I have always thought about seeing a counselor. Because sometimes, I just need to assure myself I’m not losing my sanity. That, I am stronger than I think and there’s nothing wrong with me. But, it’s intermixed with the fear of knowing the truth. This day may come soon.
Sometimes, I look back and can’t comprehend why. Why I decided to do it—was it on impulse or did I put some thought to it? I don’t remember. I don’t remember my thought process, all I remember is acting on my raging emotions during that moment. I look down, and struggle to decipher whether it was a mistake. Whether I really should not have done it or whether it was beneficial, as twisted as it sounds. Beneficial because it made me slightly stronger than before—and serves as a reminder as to why, why I made that promise to myself six years ago during middle school. Promised myself it would never happen again because I am better, stronger and smarter than that; because I should respect myself more than I did.
Despite my efforts, I caved. I don’t know what to comprehend it as: an utter mistake or something that was meant to happen in order for me to grow; or both. Which one is it?
Wounds heal and scars fade, but it doesn’t mean they disappear forever. Because no matter what, you will always remember what had happened—what had hurt you the most.
It’s ironic, how once you start to feel better, once you think the wounds have begun to heal, the identical degrading and saddening thoughts return. No warning, none at all, abruptly ruining the happy go lucky mood you were in. Instead of attempting to block these depressing thoughts, you fuel it, embracing it with open arms, pulling you right back where you had started and possibly even further back.
As much as I want to cry it out, I won’t. Not because I don’t want to, because I obviously do, but because I can’t. I’ve always hated crying for it represented vulnerability—throughout the years, I limited myself when it came to crying causing me to, I guess you can say, adapt. Adapting to soaking everything in until I can’t absorb anything anymore, until everything just hurts the same.
Tonight is just a tad bit depressing. I need to fast-forward until I’m in Covina with my relatives, by then I’ll be distracted.
Is it bad that I’m looking forward to tomorrow? Hookah + kickback. Is it bad that I’ve justified submerging myself into these social vices with “It’s college,”? Is it bad that I seriously am glad I get to drink tomorrow because today was so shitty?
Yes, it’s definitely bad. But so be it.
And in time, I become stuck with this frustration, irritation, anger, and sadness altogether—all without any obvious derivation. I don’t understand why I feel this way; I should be happy. I should be jumping with joy with how life is playing right now. I’ve spent countless hours of quality time with the new people I have met, as well as the ones I’ve known for quite some time. Bonds are strengthening, while others have just begun to blossom. I have a bi-monthly paycheck deposited in my bank account, providing me gas, food, clothes, and other miscellaneous items. I achieved a 4.0 GPA my first semester in college, why wouldn’t I be extremely happy about that? And it’s Christmas season—that should be enough justification for why I should be joyous.
But I’m really not, I do not feel happy. Maybe it’s the weather; I always get like this when the weather is gloomy. But this has occurring for an extensive amount of time, to a point where I’m worrying about myself and my own mentality. I despise feeling this way, feeling this frustrated about life and about people—surrounded by many, but realistically lonesome.
Lonesome because I feel as if I were to try and explain myself right now, explain how I feel and my thoughts, people might look at me like I’m crazy, mentally ill, or whatever the latter may be. Then, I will realize I’m just spiraling down this dark vortex of my fucked up mentality, slowly leading myself into an agonizing journey of self-destruction.
Sometimes, I feel terribly lonesome. Despite being surrounded by such caring and kind hearted individuals, I feel alone. I feel like talking but no one is around to listen. No one I know that would tolerate my complaints, randomness, and weird statements, at least at this time. I have best friends, but they’re busy with their own lives—I’d rather not be a bother.
And in turn, this initiates this desire to have that “special someone,” that individual you have such a unique and deep connection with—a connection everyone is incapable of understanding. Even then, maybe not even a “special someone” but someone I’ve connected to on a deeper level, even just friendship wise. Being busy stinks, and having busy best friends suck even more.
I feel like I’ve met so many individuals, but I haven’t connected with anyone.
Within the past week I’ve been doing a lot of self-reflecting. There are certain characteristics I contain I am not pleased about. I am striving to change, but this is extremely difficult—especially because it’s out of my comfort zone, out of my nature. Then I begin to question my intentions: Is this right for me to do? Should I change this aspect of my personality or accept it, and move along? I feel lost and confused—I’ve spent these past nights dazed into a cloud of skepticism, disappointment, and confusion. Searching for answers, I sit in my chair hoping I will reach some epiphany, helping me resolve this internal struggle with myself.
I’ve set out on a quest for self-improvement; although I expect myself to be a bit happier about searching for self-improvement, I feel myself slowly deteriorating into this lone, lost being blinded by a haze of confusion, unable to enjoy the simplicity of life. I am avoiding the return of feeling down constantly because of my interminable thoughts, feeling down for no apparent reason. I remember that point in my life—I climbed out of that hole and presented myself as someone outgoing, loud, friendly, flamboyant, and laid-back. Despite my attempts, my past shadows over me at times unexpectedly creeping on me while I am too weak to avoid succumbing into the black hole once more.
This all sounds more depressing than it really is or was. I want to grow into a better individual, striving for perfection and acceptance within myself. Despite my self-confidence, I am displeased and disappointed with my own actions. I have lost respect for myself due to certain paths I’ve chosen within the past few months. How will I regain this loss? I have no idea, and I think this is what scares me the most. The thought of slowly losing all respect for myself, until finally, I am stripped down raw staring at myself in the mirror, realizing it is only a stranger staring back.
Of course, the night and time I actually really need to talk my problems out instead of letting it simmer inside me, my mains are busy. The ones I would like to talk to about all of this. Damn, and because of this I start to feel lonesome.
I had an epiphany today while explaining the series of events of last night to my best friend earlier this morning.
I’m not content with who I am right now. I’m searching for self-improvement in this aspect of my character; whenever I contemplate about this, I feel disgusted. I feel disgusted about myself and how I cannot seem to look past all this shallowness and give certain people chances instead of shutting them down. I want to change this about myself, I want to be a better person. It all derives from my longing for self-improvement.
I’ve slowly lost respect for myself. I think that’s where my mood is coming from—I feel down, really down. I don’t know exactly why; I’m not stressed, or well I am slightly, but I have a good week. Nothing due, no exams. It’s a good week to catch up on everything; unfortunately I still feel sad and bothered which leads to my lack of concentration because all I want to do is sit and think. Sit and think for as long as I need in order to sort my thoughts out.
Usually blogging helps, but not today.
I always looked condescendingly towards the individuals who would get involved in this type of ‘relationship’ if you can call it that. Once someone was involved, my perspective of them would alter, believing that in some shape or form this defined their character. In reality, it did not even taint it. It’s human nature—hormones start to rage at some point. Now I understand, no more of that naive stature I was blinded from several years ago.
As cliche it may be, I feel like either involved individual is guaranteed to become attached. Thus, ruining the whole ‘no strings attached’ concept. Could this even be avoidable? Or is it destined to happen at some point? It may occur for the better or cause everything to self-destruct. We always hope for the latter.
