pissed

I am beyond pissed. Either I am just taking things too seriously, or people are just becoming too irresponsible for my senses to take. But this entry has no space for my anger just yet. I came here for a different purpose, which I shall now fulfill.

Yesterday was the first time I cried in almost three weeks. I wonder how I looked like for the past few weeks? As far as I know, I always had this smile pasted like some part of a collage on my face. Did my smile look awkward? Did I give anything out? Why the hell should I care about how I looked like in the first place?

I remember what happened last week. I just finished cutting, and I had this beautiful smile on my face. I can’t really remember what the smile was for: was it for self-preservation, secret-protection, or finding satisfaction in what I just did to my self, I can’t quite say. So I was walking towards my class, again, with this smile on my face. Upon reaching the room, a classmate approached me saying something I can’t remember, when he noticed the cuts on my arm. Being the curious little cat that he is, he JUST HAD TO ASK!!! What was once a smile turned into a dark expression I can’t quite explain (considering the fact that I can’t see my own face then, save feel the aura that was emanating from my very core). If I had a samurai then, I would have slashed his head clean off his neck.

Morbidity has been a frequent visitor in my head. It has almost overrun Irony, and one of these days, it just might be successful. I guess comfort comes in different shapes and sizes, even if it comes in one wherein people would think worse of you. Ha! SCREW PEOPLE!!!

i’m back

Only I can blame myself for having ever lost my great appetite for living. I only have myself to blame, and it is I who is suffering most by the choices I have made. I am, by no means, wiser, but at least I have managed to reflect upon the things that have happened, and still are happening. I am, by no means, happier, but at least I have found some sense of peace. Surprisingly, I have come to enough senses to realize that life isn’t about me. The only thing left unanswered here is what is life really all about?

I have been lost for almost three weeks now. And in those three weeks, I have let myself go. I have gained an unreasonable amount of weight due to my frequent visits to certain fast food restaurants. The weight is doing horrors for my health, and I easily tire, which I do not need right now. I can barely remember doing anything worthwhile for the past few weeks, save doing some videos that bring a smile to my face and add spice to my mornings. My room, my bag, and my life as a whole, is a bigger mess than the Payatas dumpsite. Even the exams I spend hours studying on, and consequent to which are high scores, barely reduce the fact that I am unhappy. The exams which I haven’t studied for just contribute to my despair. But then, peace brings with it an acceptable sense of being fulfilled, that’s why I know that I’ll get through this, for now.

In an episode of South Park, Stan found his friend Butters who just had his heart broken, sitting on a curb, soaked in rain and tears. Butters said, “Uh, well, yeah, I’m sad, but at the same time, I’m really happy that something could make me feel this sad. It’s like… It makes me feel alive, you know? It makes me feel human. The only way I can feel this sadness now is that I felt something really good before… So I have to take the bad with the good… So I guess what I’m feeling is like a beautiful sadness.”

My best friend sent me that message when she knew what I did to myself. I still owe her an explanation of what had happened to me, but the mere fact that I had to muster all of the strength, energy, and sanity that I could just to make this entry makes sending her a message almost close to impossible.

To my best friend (you know who you are): I am so sorry for not sending you the email. I am scared, and so lost, and I’m afraid to drag you down with me. I know you are always there, and for that, I say thank you. Thank you, so much.

I am trying so hard to be OK again. Even a SO-SO situation would do me good. It is so difficult to go about life, smiling, when everything inside hurts like a toothpick in the eye. It hurts even more when people mock my sadness. So I had to make Roa Ming. Her other person does not have the right to get depressed.