On nights alone

It's been days since I was able to feel my world return to normal speed. My mind has been hazy from lack of sleep. My body finally aches for the comfort of my bed. Finally, sleep is for the weary. I am the weary. I am the weary of many days, many sleepless night. I get to sleep.

However, with the lack of sleep, comes the weakening of mental walls. My chest begins to ache for the warmth of being loved. I used to curl up with her. I would feel her head tucked safely on the nook of my chest as her arm wrapped around my waist. She always felt so small, even more so when we are like this: My hand tangled in the hair on back of her head. Lips on top of her forehead and my nose resting just on her frontal, inhaling her scent in her hair. My favorite was her hand gently stroking the small of my back and just us breathing, existing at the same time in that very moment.

Now, all I feel is the ghost of being loved. A ghost that continues to haunt me on nights when I can't defend myself. Sometimes, I felt her arms wrap around me as I slept. It was such a good dream. There was peace, peace that I have long forgotten and have not found since she left. I still remember the way her fingers interlaced with mine and the kisses she planted on my back. You don't just forget about the way you were loved, especially when it was physically here and alive and incredibly overwhelming. You don't just forget, you can't.

Now I ache to have warm arms around me, light kisses planted on my forehead and have my body relax into someone else's. I want my fingers interlocking with someone else's. I want their scent on my pillow, my shirts, me. I want to wake up in their arms, to them planting kisses on my collarbone, them tracing the bridge of my nose gently with the tip of their finger. I want to be able to sigh in relief, in peace, in joy, not in pain.

I just don't want to be alone right now but I don't really have a choice in that.

Questions that I want to ask you but never will.

There are so many questions that I want to ask when you told me you were meeting him.

Do you think of me when you hold his hand?
Is mine smaller than his?
Does he know or remember how your skin is smooth like marble,
as if the marble itself were hand picked by Gods himself.
Does his hand feel any different than mine?
Does his feel rough like all the work that he says he is supposedly doing
or is mine rougher from all walls that I had to climb through to get to you.
Does it feel like you're holding onto him or
does it feel like he doesn't want to let you go?
Does he look at your hands when you're holding his?
Does he hold onto your hands so tightly
that he feels like you might slip away and never come back?
Does he feel as lucky as I do when I am with you?

Then, I realize that you always hug him.
Does he smell of cologne?
Do you feel like your problems are fading away when you bury yourself in his arms?
Do you remember me?
Do you ever compare the way we held you?
Was I ever too tight? Or too eager? Were my shoulders broad enough for you?
Am I at the back of your head as he wraps his arms around you?
Does he ever realize when you are slipping away?
I remember, the way you turn your head sidewards
while you put your hands against my chest to pull away.
I remember how your eyes were dead.
I remember how you talked to everything around you but me,
and I had to play it off like I didn't mind.
Does he try to make any hug last longer? Does he try like I do?
Does he feel as happy when he is with you as I do?

And you cautiously told me that you kiss him.
Do you look at him the way you look at me?
Does he notice how your eyes can sparkle in low light?
Does he notice how you laugh when he pulls you in for another kiss?
Do you remember me when his lips grazed across yours?
Kissing you felt like kissing flower petals.
I wonder if you ever felt the exact way for him before you did for me.
Do you look at him the way you still looked at me?
Does it feel wrong to kiss two people the way that you do?

And when you told me, you still tell him that you love him..
Shit, that sucked.
It really did.
I felt that my chest was ripped open, my heart taken out,
only to have it shoved back in through my ribcage.
Do you tell him those three words before you go to sleep?
Does he say it back?
Do you mean it when you say it to him?
Do you think of me every time you say it to him?
You have deemed him worthy of those words.
Was I not enough to be more than a secret?
Do you think about the last time that you will say it to him?
What about me?
Have you ever meant it when you told me you love me?

How do you know you're in love.

How do you know you're in love with them (or anyone in general):
There they go. As flawless as they can be. Everything about them makes you smile like a kid at the carnival for the first time. You can't blame yourself because you're in love with them. How in the world did you end up here? You feel like everything in your life has happened and aligned so that you could be at this place to meet them. They were everything you wanted and needed. You are happy after a very long time.

When you hold their hand for the first time, their hands feel like the right temperature, the right size. Waves of excitement and joy rush over you and drags you under. Then, you found out that you can breathe underwater. What joy! This is the most amazing feeling ever. The first kiss. The first time you went on a date. The first phone call. The first sleepover. You will feel invincible, like nothing can kill you. You were on top of the world. It doesn't matter if someone came and knock you down. With them, you could just climb up again, no biggie.

Cyan.

You were green.
I was blue.
I tried to be the color of your skies.
I painted landscapes with you.

You seeped through my veins,
and I now, a body of blue and cyan,
I changed and I didn't mind,
I thought you didn't mind too.

Coffee, cakes and secrets.

I told a stranger about you today. I told her that I love someone, that I am in love with someone. We were standing in line in a coffee shop. She was nice and she looked very comfortable with that fuzzy jacket on. It was completely absurd that I was in that shop because I did not like coffee. I just wanted cake. Well, we both wanted cake. So, I went in to get cake and she was there.

She asked if I liked coffee. Obviously, my answer would be a no. Then, I told her that I have a friend who likes to try out different cakes from different shops. I knew I said "friend" but the thought of you, no matter what the title is, made me smile. I gushed that you didn't care what cake it was, it just had to be good. My mind was full of nothing but you. Cake didn't matter for a while.

I told her how you always forget that you're not alone in movie theatres. You would sit up in surprise during plot twists, with gasps so loud that people would turn to look at you. I didn't care. I held your hands and laughed while trying to get you to remember that we are among others. I told her that you think flower bouquets are a waste of money. Your ex-girlfriend got you flowers as an apology. Later, you found out that she was actually cheating on you so the flowers meant nothing. I didn't tell her that though.

I think I was whispering to myself when I talked about flowers. She smiled and asked, "Does she know?" I chuckled and nodded. A little too fast, I supposed. "You said "friend". What's stopping you?" she asked again, this time brows furrowing.

I felt my smile falter as I shrugged, "I am nothing more than another secret for her to keep."

To be loved.

When I was younger, I was a ball of anger, fury and pain. I went through old diaries and journals. It spoke of nothing but pain and my love for other people. I think I didn't know how to love myself so I just ended up giving away every piece of myself even to people who don't deserve it. It sounds cliche but it is cliche for a reason. It happens.

I wanted to be loved but I refused to give anyone the permission to love me. That made a lot of things harder. In spite of that, I know now, that I just wanted to be loved so fiercely that I have no way of doubting it. That is how I loved people. You can never doubt I love you. You will be that sure of me.

I'd give myself a hug. I think that's all I wanted, really. I wanted someone to hug me and stay there for 15 minutes. I wanted to be loved.

You don't have to love me back.

I know it's exhausting for you, to deal with someone's love for you, especially when you don't want it or can't return it. I understand. You watch your words to keep how you feel unknown. You keep your wall up so you don't feel too much. You have always been a master at changing the topic to another completely different train of thought.

When I said I love you, you didn't say it back.I said it six times more on different occasions. Not once. Not once you acknowledged it. I'm sorry if it's unwanted. I didn't know. Well, I guess I did. I just didn't want to believe it. You've always said that we should be better off as friends. I don't think I know if I can be your friend. I love you. I have trouble finding the right way to explain what I feel. Then, I concluded that no combination of 26 alphabets can summed up to the way I feel about you.

I can't explain why I feel sad because "because I love you" would be a weird answer. I guess, "you can't be mine" would suffice. I'll remember the way you look at me. I remember how your lips curl up in response when we kiss. I'll remember how your skin feels. I promise I won't forget you. I understand now. I love you. You don't have to love me back.I won't force you to reciprocate what you can't.

\

Who was ever lucky enough to be loved in exactly the way they wanted? - Carmilla Karnstein

I love you.

Those three words are said too much,
they're not enough.
They became merely words,
with no promises, no hope, empty.

Then,
there was you.
I'd regret it if I didn't tell you that enough.

To those who un-intelligently refuse to understand depression.

The most frustrating part about having depression is when everything is going right, like absolutely everything is in your favor, you still feel your chest caving, you still want to die. When you explain it to other people who don't understand depression, they will tell you to stop thinking so much or to do something to take your mind off it.

They don't understand it. I am not thinking about anything. It could just be the beginning of the day. I would have literally just opened my eyes at the sound of my alarm. The feeling of a black hole in my chest will be there. There is no reason for it. Depression has triggers but at most times, they don't have a reason to be there. It's there and there's really nothing to do about it.

Then, to the "do something to take your mind off it", I can't. Like I've said, it's there. I could be sitting in bed, playing Pokemon or eating my lunch at a five star restaurant. I will still feel that cyclone of weariness and hopeless. It is there without needing you to acknowledging its presence. You just wake up with the hollow emptiness in your chest and the dread of the possibilities of the rest of the day.

I have woken up at times, unable to get out of bed because my body hurts. It is not the physical pain that immobilized me. I want to slit my wrists and bleed to death. I want to jump in front of a moving car and get run over. I want to feel pills going down my throat. I genuinely want to die. Now imagine someone's fist being shoved into your chest, then they continue to squirm around, twisting and turning. The place where your heart is supposed to be is replaced with a hurricane of pain, hopelessness and emptiness. You feel the blood draining from your face, your fingers, basically your whole body. You are left there, numb. You can hear the hum of silence in the air echoing in your room. You can almost hear the rise of fall of your chest as you breathe. With that, your brain just amplifies the feeling of sadness and hopelessness. You basically lose whenever you try fight with this.

So, to those who dismisses depression as an excuse for anything, fuck you. I woke up, got out of bed and went through life with ALL OF THOSE going on with me. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. You can go fuck yourselves.

We are fighters. We fight for our own lives. We fight to be alive.

Breaking my own promise.

I promised myself that I wouldn't talk about her anymore, that I would stop dedicating words to her,  words she will never read. Then, it became evident to me that there were imprints of her everywhere. I see it in my stories, my poems, my conversations and even in my reaction towards a new friend. I swore to never talk about her again but she's everywhere.

When I see the word best friend anywhere, my mind still goes to her even though she no longer holds the title. The feeling of this is like a recovering alcoholic seeing a sign pointing to a bar. Their first instinct tells them to go in and order a drink. Then, their senses come to them and they have to consciously convince themselves to walk away because going in will not help them in any way.

Time and time again, my mind will unconsciously remember the good times that we had, which triggered a lot of the bad memories. I would usually stop myself from going down to memory lane but sometimes, I would allow myself a short stroll and everytime without fail, I will end up missing her.

We don't talk anymore. It's horrible because now, even our small talk is awkward. We couldn't get two sentences out with that gaping feeling between us. And every time she talks to me, I wonder if she misses me. I never understood how people can just go around pretending like they never once knew everything about this person. I never understood how they manage to put away all these memories and information like it never mattered. 

There was a quote that I saw on tumblr, I don't remember it exactly but it goes along those lines, "He always photographed the thing that he loved but he never took a photo of me". I was in a lot of her photos before. Back then, I will always be somewhere in the picture. Now, you can't even tell that we're friends. I was happy then. Spending time with her was nice, I could talk to her about anything and she always made me laugh. She kept me calm, she kept me sane. She was my own sun. Was. Now, I can't remember what her laugh sounds like. 

I would like to think that she was using me because believing that is less painful than to believe that I just wasn't relevant anymore. However, as much as I don't want to believe it, I know that at some point, I did mean something to her and she really did loved me. My judgement about people hasn't failed me yet. So, up until some point, she really was my friend. My only mistake was to believe that that will never change. 

I stop telling people the details of our friendship. It used to be long, detailed paragraphs of stories. Now I replace those stories with "We don't talk anymore" and "I don't know, she never responded and I gave up eventually". I stop telling the stories because relieving the memories bring me pain. I no longer see the reason to put myself through it anymore.  I'd like to think that she doesn't care because it will help me move on from this. However, I saw a quote that says this, "There are two reasons why people don't talk about things, either it doesn't mean anything to them or it means everything". I don't know which one is she.

I think, among all the friends that I've made over the years, I will always love her the most. I mean, how can I still, after everything? But I do, I still do.

Suicide

Most of us are baffled at our own prospects of death. I think it's because of the mystery to it. I mean, we don't know when it will happen or how it would happen. So, we mask that curiosity, that fear of it sometimes, by being busy, being occupied and being oblivious. Most of us think that our end of the road is old age, grandkids or perhaps, success. The very idea that "lives can be cut short either deliberately or not" is a myth, a fairy tale made up to scare us into taking risks and aiming for the stars.

Kristina Akana, 1993-2007, she ended her own life on Valentine's Day. I just finished reading her sister, Anna's book, Surviving Suicide. Anna wrote about the aftereffects of a suicide. People always talk about why people shouldn't kill themselves and how much people will miss them but I have never seen anything told from the the perspective of someone that was left behind. That is up until now.

I have never had friends or family who were claimed way before the expiry date by suicide. However, I have friends who, fortunately, failed at their attempts to take their own life. Two were when I had to talk to them relentlessly because there was nothing else I could do. One was after she had her stomach pumped. I remember the panic when I hear "I'm sorry" and that lump in my throat that won't go down no matter how many times I swallow. I remember bargaining with God even though the life at risk is not mine. I remember that sensation of vertigo when they dropped the other line of the call. I remember hearing train tracks and the sound of her sobs.

Anna talked about how her brain was far from reality when she got the call that her sister tried to hang herself. Her response was "Oh My God, she's going to be grounded for a very long time" or something along those lines. I guess, it is normal for us to not accept the visit of the Grim Reaper, especially when you are not expecting him. Sometimes, I do wonder. I wonder if they ever stop crying. I wonder if they ever stop picturing her face when they hear "Kristina' or if they ever stop missing her. I wonder if Kristina wished that she stayed. I wonder if she is happy now.

I hope, I solemnly hope to God that she is.

When I heard that you cried.

When someone I love cries, my first reaction was to kiss them and say "I love you". When my little brother comes running to me in tears, I would put him on my lap and cuddle him. I would let him stay like that as long as he wants, until he feels better. I would kiss his cheek and just let him calm down.

So, when you told me that you cried, I instinctively hugged you. You buried your face on my neck and I feel you smile as you hugged me back. I tried my very best to resist the urge to kiss you on your head. I laughed and pulled you in for a tighter bear hug, which you oddly didn't wriggle away from. Then, I heard you laugh. It was light, delighted, like smelling hot chocolate on a rainy afternoon.

I swore I wouldn't care about anyone else but then, you appeared. Every time you say my name or look my way, I blew it, all of it. The sound of your name makes me do a double take. The sight of you makes my steps quicken. When you turn to smile at me, basically just noticing me, I get heart palpitations.

I am happy. After a long time, I am happy. You, you make me happy. For now, I really couldn't ask for anything more.

Day 4 of 30 Day Poem Challenge: Write a haiku. They’re often about nature, but yours can be about anything.

Cuckoo cuckoo,
Seasons passed like books flipping fast
He never called me back.

Cuckoo, cuckoo,
it sounds like come back come back
I'd do anything please

Cuckoo cuckoo
He never came back for me
I would still wait for him.

Love letters.

I'm sorry I can't write you a love letter.
No, I don't mean "those" letters.
You know, the ones that involve words like,
You and I, forever, house, children, mortgages,
and occasionally, your parents suck.
Love letters, the type I meant were
the ones where you tell them about a place that you went to
because they love the color red.
Then, you'd tell them about the person that you met recently
and how this person's laugh is similar to theirs.
Letters where profanities and insults were the language of endearment,
and I think, it will probably end with,
"Dude, text me. Why are you writing?"
Letters like these are never long,
sometimes they are a beautifully sculpted essay, using words such as,
flamboyant, combust, dynamic, serendipity.
Sometimes they are a random string of words, like
pizza, hippopotamus, Herbie, smelly, you.
Another thing about these letters is that
it made sense either way because it was written to you,
only you,
with love.

I can't write love letters anymore.
The last person I wrote to stopped talking to me,
and now, I am writing this to you
after deleting 290 photos of me and her at 3 in the morning.
I am not a person who is good with speech, or affection
or love, or relationships.
The only thing that allows me to properly explain the things that I feel
is a pen and paper.
Therefore, love letters, they are a manifestation of everything that I am afraid to say and
even everything that I refuse to say.
When I write to you,
no other thoughts but you will occupy my mind.
You will be my sole muse, my inspiration until the very last word
which is where I sign "Love, Tryphena"
I would use words to paint you like a picture, in hopes that
you would understand how I see you as a human being.
I have a knack for seeing things about people that are not noticed by many,
I'll tell you how you always keep your arms close to your body,
like somehow, you are trying to make yourself smaller or to preserve body heat.
I'll tell you how you always smile differently in pictures, especially the ones taken with me.
I'll tell you that people love you and you shouldn't be with someone who doesn't.
I'll tell you how you always change the topic to something else when it's a question that you didn't want to answer.
Then, to make things worse,
I'll tell you how different I am when I am with you.
I'll give you examples, references, citations, everything to show
how your existence is so important to me.
I'll tell you that you're the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep.
I'll tell you that I am comfortable with you, even when we're both in decade-old PJs.
I'll tell you that I check your "last seen" on whatsapp when I couldn't sleep.
I'll tell you that I never stopped loving you.

If I write you a love letter,
I am giving you my heart, my self-esteem, my self-worth on a silver platter.
If I write you a love letter,
you are given the ability to crush me into a million pieces in the time span that ranges from one millisecond,
to three years,
or more, your choice.
If I write you a love letter,
I am exposing myself to you in a way
that I later will suffer maximum damage from
if you ever plan on killing me.
If I write you a love letter,
I won't be able to take any of it back if you chose to leave,
and I will be left here with all the words that I ever wrote to you,
stuck in the back of my throat.

In spite of this,
if I write you a love letter,
you should know that I must really really love you.

Her, proving me wrong, as always.

Once in a while, you come across a picture that render you speechless and all you want to do is stare and marvel. Then, you realize that it is entirely possible to fall in love with a picture. It also helps if you know the person in the picture. Pictures capture expressions and highlights certain features of someone that you don't see normally. Up until now, all I can do is gawk at this picture.

The first thought that came across my mind is "Oh, wow, she looks gorgeous." And then, I couldn't stop staring. Since she's looking directly at the camera, it made me feel awkward and I had to look away. I debated with myself because it's a picture and I can stare all I want. I still can't because.. simply because.

Her eyes captured my attention. She is one of my best friends. She has been for the last 10 years or so. I love her completely and unconditionally. Thing is she looks absolutely amazing in photographs and pictures. It is in random times like these where you really really see person clearly and what you see just throws you off because you get blown away. It's like you're seeing them for the very first time.

I have lots of moments where I know that I couldn't love this girl more than I already do. It's always random, like the way she smiles or the way her eyes are when she smiles. I don't get to see her as often as I would want to because I'm away for my studies. When I do see her, she would literally be bae (before anyone else). She reminds me to hope and to love. On top of that, she is literally the only person where I don't shun from when she is being affectionate. That's something I realize only tonight. For example, she would want to hold my hand and I would let her. For those who know me, I would shake it off. If it's her, I wouldn't mind, or at least I don't shake it off.

I thought I literally wouldn't be able to love her more than I already do but she proves me wrong, every single time.

Ugh, too much feels. Again, I obviously don't know how to love or deal with affection. As my mum said, I don't react well to any form of affection or let anyone love me, which means I don't love a lot of people. Gonna stop now before I bring up falling in love with people and life.

Bye.

All I can say when I look at the picture is still "Omg..".

Real Talk Questions from Tumblr

• 1. What is more difficult for you, looking into someones eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someones eyes when they are telling you how they feel?
• Looking into someone's eyes while I tell them how I feel

• 2. Think of the last time you were REALLY angry. WHY were you angry? Do you still feel the same way?
• I remember how someone just dropped me on my ass and expect me to be okay "because things have changed", according to her. Yes, I still do and it keeps me awake at night.
• 3. You are on a flight from Honolulu to Chicago non-stop. There is a fire in the back of the plane. You have enough time to make ONE phone call. Who do you call? What do you tell them?
• My mum, I'll tell her I love her and my family. I'll also tell her that her and dad did a great job raising us kids and they are the best in the world. 
• 4. You are at the doctor’s office and he has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? What do you do with your remaining days? Would you be afraid?
• I'll only tell those that I want to spend my last month with. I'll eat, take as many pictures as I can, make home videos, bungee jump, be a daredevil. Yes, I admit that I'll be so afraid but it's inevitable so I'll make sure I'll regret nothing when I die.
• 5. You can have one of the following two things. Which do you choose? Why? Love and Trust.
• For argument's sake, I won't say that trust will cultivate love. I will choose trust because trust, in my experience, is developed and strengthen over time. I understand that it is the same with love but you don't get blinded when you trust. To trust is to have confidence in something or someone. Trust is given to those who have proven themselves worthy of it, instead of  having it being given to you in the beginning. It's more concrete and logical than love.
• 6. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late even once more, you are fired. Do you take the time to save the dogs life? Why or Why not?
• No, as much as a dog's life is valuable, I don't think I can afford my job. This differs though, but I assume that I am not at home and I am on my own when this happens. So, no.
• 7. Would you rather be hurt by the one you trust the most or the one you love the most?

The one that I love.

• 8. Your best friend confesses that he/she has feelings for you more than just friendship. He/she is falling in love with you. What do you (or did you) do/say?
• The first time it happened, I ended up dating him. The second time it happened, I told her that nothing can happen because she had a boyfriend.
• 9. Think of the last person who you know that died. You have the chance to give them 1 hour of life back, but you have to give up one year of yours. Do you do it? Why or Why not?
• No, because I don't know them that well. Plus, they had cancer so it wouldn't make a big difference. It's not like we could postpone his death if he was given another hour. It would just be another hour of waiting for his family.
• 10. Are you the kind of friend that you would want to have as a friend?
• Yeah, I seem like a cool person.
• 11. Does love = sex?
• No.
• 12.Your boss tells your coworker that they have to let them go because of work shortage, and they are the newest employee. You have been there much longer. Your coworker has a family to support and no other means of income. Do you go to your boss and offer to leave the company? Why or Why not?
• Depends on the situation but if the situation is the same as I describe above, then no. I need to take care of myself, I have no one in this city.
• 13.When was the last time you told someone HONESTLY how you felt regardless of how difficult it was for you to say? Who was it? What did you have to tell the person?
• It was a few months ago, at least the one where I remembered. It was with a group of friends and we were all mostly acquaintances. However, we somehow decided to have questions thrown out and all of us will take a turn in answering it. They were deep questions, what do you regret, what do you fear, what were your scariest moments in life. It was a very non-judgmental feel to everything and everyone was genuine so everything just came spilling out. They listened which was something I didn't expect. It was  relief because people rarely listen nowadays and sometimes that all you want from someone.
• 14. What would be (or what was) harder for you to tell a member of the opposite/same sex, you love them or that you do not love them back?
• Personally, to say "I love you" to anyone would be harder than " I don't love you."
• 15. What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up? Why would it be hard to lose?
• My family because they are the reason why I am able to be where I am right now. I would never trade them for anything in the world
• 16. Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them. Who were they to you?
• Last night, he is my little brother.
• 17. If there was one moment and one time in the last month what would you change and why?
• I don't remember, it has been a pretty good month for me.
• 18. Would you give a homeless person CPR if they were dying? Why or Why not?
• Yeah, it's a life.
• 19.You are holding onto your grandmother’s hand and the hand of a newborn that you do not know as they hang over the edge of a cliff. You have to let one go to save the other. Who do you let fall to their death? What was your rationale for making the decision?
• I would let the newborn go. First of all, I don't know the new born and it's not mine. My grandma is mine so I'll save what is mine. You can also have another baby but not another grandma.
• 20. Are you old fashioned?
• Only in my moral values.
• 21. When was the last time you were nice to someone and did NOT expect anything in return for it?
• I always do small things like this so I don't know. It's very recent, I'm sure.
• 22.Which would you choose, true love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or never loved at all? Why?

Broken hearts can heal. Then you'll love again.

• 23.If you could do anything or wish anything, what would it be?
• To forget about her or to be over her completely so that I can move on and not think of her.

First blog post as a 21 year old.

I have not written in a long time, I have good reasons for it. Well, at least I think it's good. I don't know why I am explaining since I am talking to myself here.

I was home for the holidays, still am though. I have been doing practically nothing productive because there is nothing productive of my own to be done. House work and chores are different things. I'd just procrastinate until literally 20 minutes before my mum comes home and just finish it really really quickly. It looks something like Hit Girl in the movie Kick Ass 2, after she was given the adrenaline shot.

Things have been okay, I guess. At least that's what I would say to a stranger because I don't know how to explain what I have been feeling lately. Plus, people don't ask how are you to get an answer. It's small talk, they just want an "okay" and next question. Given all the time that I spend alone in KL, I have a tendency to keep things to myself now, or to my blog. I don't think it's a bad thing. I just became more private and you will only see what I show you.

I have been 21 for about a week now. I didn't expect anything like what happened with Harry Potter when he turned 11, to happen. It was nice to not feel the difference but then again, you do feel the urgency to become more responsible, more productive, more successful and so on because I am legally an adult now. With that being said, I also understand that with me being older, it means my parents are aging too, which further stressed my responsibility as the eldest in the family, to be more of an adult.

At 21, people would have expected you to be... not lost. Unfortunately, here I am, feeling as lost as I was 3 years ago, the only difference is that I was on my own. I had a best friend 3 years ago. She's gone now and I am alone. Again, it's not bad, I haven learnt to be content on my own now but it'd be nice to have someone, yknow.

However, I would like to look at the bright side of not knowing what to do with myself:

1. I am studying in a course that I really really like, which means I am most likely to go into that in the future.
2. I still see the importance of writing in my life and I am lucky because I still have something that I love that is mine.
3. I have the possibilities of everything lying ahead of me BECAUSE I don't have a plan.
4. I know what to look for slowly from my own experiences and even so, I can just change things if I don't like them.
5. I get to be selfish first.
6. I can try anything that I want and not regret it.

That's enough of me talking about me to me. I am surprisingly enjoying this. It beats talking to people because I am not a judgmental person and it sucks when people are. They say, you are your own best friend, yeah, in a lot of ways, it's true :)

Day 11 of 30 challenge: Are you a lover or a fighter?

I am both actually.

When I love, goddammit, I love.
I'd tell you that you look beautiful, perfect,
even with all your flaws that hung off your walls of insecurity.
I'd sing you songs that remind me of you.
I'd play you the songs that my heart beats to when I see you.
I'd say that you are a story waiting to be told, 
these scars that you bear from falling down and wrong side of beds.
Holy shit, that smile, I blew it the moment you look my way.
You are the plot twist in the stories, you captivate people,
you are the climax, the one that everyone has been waiting for.
I'd write you songs, poems,
but then, I'd stop because
no combination of 26 alphabets could ever describe
what I feel for you.
And those eyes, they echo centuries and centuries of wisdom and insight,
I could stare at them for so long without feeling lost.
I'd have to set myself on fire. 
Engulfed in flames,
that would be something that is only seemingly accurate 
to this overflowing love that I feel for you.
I'd scream to the whole world that I love you.
Oh my god, I love you.
I wouldn't be able to understand it completely,
I wouldn't be able to understand how is it possible for someone to feel
so much, so much about someone,
and not explode.
Goddammit, I love you, 
I love you so much.

A fighter, yeah, I am that too.

I'd beg you not to leave, I'd throw out every reason that I can make up to apologize.
I'd beg, on my knees, snot and tears, to fix things
I'd compromise, give whatever that I have.
I'd figure a way to make things work.
I'd refuse to take no for an answer.
I'd make it work, 
I'd make us work.
Fucking hell, 
I would do anything for you.

On being happy? I guess.

I have people tell me that,
I am one of the happiest people that they have ever met
I laugh a lot, I smile also, they say.
Funny, because I feel like I am anything else
but, that.
I guess it's a compliment?
I started to focus on myself more, call me selfish
but it helps me with "loving myself more".
They are right, especially when it comes to that.
When you love yourself, everyone else can go fuck themselves.
At least, that's what I try to live by.

There are days where I still feel you linger in my thoughts,
my dreams, in conversations that I have
and sometimes, in little things that I do daily.
I think I still hold you dear and I will still call you babe.
On the other hand, I wish to scream at you,
to make you regret every name that you ever called me,
for making me feel inferior,
for making me beg you, with all the apologies that I could say in a breath,
for making me believe that I indeed a horrible person,
for making me believe that I was never worthy of trust, or love.
You made me believe that no one needed me
and I believed every word.

I still have those messages.
I can still hear you screaming at me on the phone.
I took your pictures down a few months ago.
I tucked them away, somewhere deep in my drawers.
Give me a few more months,
maybe I'll be able to burn them then.

Day 9 of 30 challenge: What do you like the most about yourself? (physically and emotionally)

Physically, I like my calves, my collarbones and my eyes.

My calves and my shoulders are what makes me look less fat. My calves are very very firm and muscular, it's not big but it's very toned due to 11 years of ballet and now, Muay Thai. I look good in skinny jeans because of my calves.

My collarbones because they are noticeable. I have always been a very big kid after hitting puberty. I was too skinny growing up and now everyone says that I am too fat. It's very frustrating because people, make up your minds. They compliment my shoulders, making me look like an athlete when I am not.

My eyes are nice, I guess. I like them because I not only have double eyelids, mine is like three and four layers. ON BOTH EYES. I don't have to put a lot of make up, just a little eyeliner and mascara and I am good to go which is nice. I have covered my mouth and everything in the mirror, leaving only my eyes and played with it. I changed emotions and everything and it's super cool to watch yourself transform even if it's only your eyes. I understand why acting is hard. To convey the right emotion, you need to be able to communicate with your eyes.

Emotionally, I know this is going to sound weird but I like that feeling of slight hope that I feel when I get really really depressed.

Wait wait, let me explain.

Depression happens to me very very often. It sucks and I cannot tell you to what extend of suck-ness it can be unless you have experienced it yourself. It's so bad that I couldn't, yes, COULDN'T do my dishes or my laundry or get out of bed properly without wanting to die.

It's horrible. And then, there's this little voice in my head that tells me, "Breathe, one minute at a time. Come on, get up, love." That's hope. It helps me stop crying. It keeps me alive. It makes me understand that I will be okay.

And again, unless you've been through depression, you will not understand how much a little hope can help a person when you feel like there is absolutely nothing to live for in this world