Saturday, November 4, 2017
I just simply Googled "Questions" and got these. I know information about myself is very boring but here goes nothing.
Sunday, October 15, 2017
I miss you.
October is such a hard month for me. If I were in a four seasoned country, it would be due to the changing weather. But you and I both know that is not the case.
We met at 15, you and I both were guarded souls. The day you told me that you cannot be friends with someone until you observed them was the day I knew you'd be someone I'd cherished. I didn't know how, but I felt it. And I know you did too.
Your birthday is one week before mine and you acted like him. The two people who could ever screw me over but I'd thank you two. You brought me everywhere you went. Most especially during school hours. You held my hand. Always. You accompanied me. Always. You were my true friend. But you didn't know the pang of jealousy that hit me everytime you met your old friends. To think that you had close friends before me made me angry like the stupid person that I am. I had to talk sense into me; you did not belong to me and you were free to be friends with whoever you wanted.
We became close right away- we were inseparatable. And I loved you like a friend should. You had your issues and I was away from family, living in 'foster care'. I had an episode. And I didn't know until later that you tried to reach me during that episode. I needed someone, and I was mad that I didn't know you were right there for me.
Remember the one time in Science class when you found a glass shard and wanted to slice open your arm and I was sitting next to you and I couldn't watch you hurt yourself that I let you slice open mine? The scar is gone but the pain stayed. Or the times you told me you wanted to end your life and I held your hands so tight and told you that if you go, I'm following because I'll never leave you alone? Even your mother knew me and you dragged me to see her often and it was funny that both our mothers turned out to be teachers.
The year went by so quickly, we never fought and it was almost time for me to return to my hometown. That's when everything went wrong. And it was all my fault.
When I returned, I had all those horrible flashbacks and one day when you needed me the most, I pushed you away. Oh, how stupid I was. And you did nothing. You walked. I cried for so many nights, blaming myself. I couldn't get you back, Akmar, no matter how much I wanted you. You did not deserve the pain I caused you. And 9 years later I still carried this hurt from hurting you. You are now married with the cutest toddler. You are happy. You no longer needed me.
But sometimes at night I remember you. And on the 26th of October, I celebrate your birthday like you were still a friend.
Do you still remember me from time to time?
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
This is just going to be my synopsis for something bigger (hopefully).
Laes was going to turn 21 in 5 hours and was in the kitchen baking up her own cake. Living alone at 20 years old has its downs but she didn't mind. But she got a call from an unknown number who claimed to be her aunt/cousin and was to meet her 3 hours after midnight. She was suspicious but she figured, it wouldn't hurt right? She was wrong. Meeting her aunt would change everything. Being her father's mistress' third kid meant something. Now she has to deal with counsils, her extended family and a family heirloom and she had to deal with it for at least 3 years. She couldn't trust anyone but could she trust herself?
Monday, May 15, 2017
So these past few weeks has been dragging me back and forth across a hard, sharp surface, wounding me in every possible way and I've been nothing but weak and falling into the hands of the darkness. Because of this, I haven't been quite myself, struggling with the simplest of things like getting out of bed to following my routines. Let's flash back to a few years.
My parents raised me to be an independent woman. When I'm feeling myself, I know that the freedom and independence they have given me especially was to teach me to walk on my own two feet and I consider myself self-reliant. But I never realized that because of the way I was raised, I became emotionally reliant to others, desperate for validation to see the value of my self-worth. I was desperate for love from my parents, I was desperate for validation from others, I was desperate to grow up and show everyone that I could make it. Well I was wrong. And I've dragged myself so much, one could say I developed a lot of insecurities because of it. And it's time to stop.
I cut myself from one of the few people I truly loved because of an incident and I did it so drastic that it broke me. But how does one say that he/she loves others when they destroy another relationship because of that love? I don't know. Yesterday I crashed and burned and I crawled back to my past spot, hoping that maybe it would heal me. You know how people say that you cannot love others if you don't love yourself first? It's something like that. You cannot be reliant on others to love you while you are breaking, tearing and putting yourself down. And I've been so insistent on getting and finding love that it broke me. Physically and emotionally. And it's time to finally break the bad habit.
But today, for the first time in many days that I was out of bed for a whole day, I finally felt the thrill of living again. I finally looked forward to something, and I finally was content. Maybe it's just for the day, but that's okay. We live day by day, there's no need to feel the pressure of being happy for a long periods of times, it's okay to break once in a while. Then you get up. Then fall. And repeat the process. That's what life is about, right?
Monday, March 6, 2017
1. I'm schizophrenic. Yes, that schizophrenic. I've battled with schizophrenia since I was a child, but I've only been diagnosed with it about 3 years ago. I also have social anxiety, depression and bipolar, which makes me have schizoaffective disorder.
Here is a link that will explain what it is;
A lot of people, especially friends are not aware of this, and yes, I seem pretty normal. It's just a mental thing, and I've struggled daily on fixing myself and fitting in, because what I'm scared of the most is standing out so much that people are intimidated by me. Because of this disorder(s), I've seen psychologists, counselors and therapists. I've stopped therapy for a year now (I think) and counseling for quite a while.
I know what you're thinking, schizophrenia, isn't that disorder linked to something else? Oh, I don't know, aggression? No, not necessarily. Though I do have a bad temper and I used to lash out to people, schizophrenia patients rarely pose harm to people or themselves. As for bipolar, having hypomania has really changed a lot to how I perceive the world. When I'm euphoric, and everything seems better, I feel more grateful towards life to the point that it becomes a sort of addiction. That's another thing that I want to write down.
2. I have addiction(s).
Apart from self-harming and overdosing, I have this bad habit of going back to smoking. I know, I know, it's bad and it's haram. But when I'm feeling extremely low, my impulses drive me back to it and I can't really help it or myself. And I've ended up at the ER countless of times now. I also just got back from there. Heh.
3. I've struggled with my sexuality.
This, I've never truly discussed with anyone, mostly because I was afraid and I'm still afraid. Struggling with sexuality does not mean that I liked girls, or that I didn't like boys, or whatever, it also means that I've grown up hating the fact that I was a girl. I don't know if that makes sense, but I always thought I was born the wrong gender. I was scared of girls pretty much my whole childhood and even now being around girls give me so much anxiety that sometimes I just avoid them. And I know it makes me seem like I hate them or something. So if I have run away from you, no, it's not that I hate you, it's me. I just have a problem or something. I don't know.
4. I had a hard time opening up.
I think the first time I've encountered this problem was when I was 15 years old and I was away from my family for the first time. I was having really bad homesickness and I couldn't talk to anybody, I mean, I was so depressed, but when I was brought to the doctor, I couldn't say anything. What did the doctor tell me? Open up. That was it, that was all, and I've been trying to be more open with my emotions and feelings ever since.
5. I have a scrict policy when it comes to my friends.
I don't know why, and I don't think I've told anyone this before, but when it comes to my friends' pictures of themselves or babies (ESPECIALLY), I just won't like them (on Facebook). I won't comment on them unless absolutely necessary. Not because I don't like them, but because I am very careful to sharing my friends' private lives with other strangers. And you know what they say, the evil eye is very real and very frightening. So if you find me not liking your posts.. you'll know why.
There are other things that I would like to put here, and I don't mean for this to be for a cry of help. No, I'm not trying to reach out, I'm not telling the internet I have issues. I'm sharing mine to tell my friends especially and others, that it's okay. It's perfectly fine, you know? So what, I'm a little crazy here and there, but aren't we all? I'm a mess, but aren't we all? I hope this makes other people feel a little normal, but I had a hard time accepting my (abnormalities)self.
Thursday, March 2, 2017
That was all. That was it.
I looked at the doctor, hoping for more. Why didn't she say more? That's all? I'm dying? No explanations?
I cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my head, "H-how? I feel perfectly fine." That's when my doctor started to explain, something about cancer. Cancer. I heard her, but I wasn't really listening. Not when she told me I had 3 months left, not about my treatment and all the chemotherapy. I cleared my throat again, and tried to remember what the past month had been like.
I've been tired, more so than usual. To top that, I've been having migraines, nose bleeds and blackouts. But how could I have cancer? At the age of 24? It seemed impossible. I started to ask again, but the doctor could see my denial and the way I was excessively trying to swallow and clear my throat, as if it would help the situation.
"Is there anybody who can come and take you?" She finally said, much to my relief, but it added to my anxiety. I was 24, I had no close friends, no family, no spouse. Nothing. "Jeff?" I snorted. The doctor must be kidding. There was no way I was calling him. "Unless you have someone better." I sighed deeply and shook my head quietly.
Half an hour passed as I sat in the waiting room in front of my doctor's office, waiting for the man. Jeff came, in his signature soft blue buttoned-down shirt and black slacks, meaning he came straight from his office.
"Jane?" I didn't look at him, just stood up and walked. I assumed he followed because I heard footsteps from behind and walked to the parking lot. He opened the door for me, and instead of rebelling like I always did, I took it and got inside his car. It smelled the same citric smell, the way I liked it. "Jane," he started again, "Ms. Grey told me everything. How are you feeling?" I simply shook my head, how are you supposed to feel when you have 3 months to live? When you have cancer? I started to get choked up, and Jeff left it at that. He drove in silence, took me home and didn't call for days on end. I was starting to think that he gave up on me. Maybe he was tired of me giving him the cold shoulder for years, that he was forced to be there for me because I was simply dying. Maybe that was it.
But he showed up again a few weeks later at one of my sessions.
Saturday, October 22, 2016
"She doesn't want to see you."
I was baffled. "Why?" I demanded. I tried the door but it was locked. She never locked the door, not when she knew I was coming around. I faced her secretary, "Why?" I asked again, over and over, as if his answer would change.
He simply shrugged, "She doesn't want to see you."
That made me sit down, well, more like dropped on my rear. I tried replaying yesterday, and the day before, the week before, the month before... Where did I go wrong? What happened? What did I say? What.... I remembered she had a hospital appointment the day before. Was that why she had shut me out? Because something was wrong with her? I sighed and stood up on my heels, straightening my dress slightly as I took out my notepad, wrote down a message and placed it on the secretary's desk. I didn't know if he would even relay the message, but a girl could certainly hope. Maybe. I walked away all the same, wishing she would read the note.
She was finally gone. I heard everything she said behind my door, mostly because I was sitting down behind it, my knees up to my chest. I didn't have to see her face to know what she was feeling; she probably felt she did something wrong, or that she said something wrong. The way she said "why" explained everything to me - I knew the woman long enough to know that she was confused. Probably hurt. Probably hating me. But I had to shut her out. What if she knew? How crushed would she be? I could barely think about it without breaking apart myself. I had to save her. If I couldn't save myself, let me save the woman. Let me, God, just let me. Just this once.
My secretary unlocked the door, walked in and placed a note on my desk, ignoring the way I was down on the cold, hard floor. He wouldn't understand so I didn't feel the need to explain. I knew what it was; the note was in the woman's favourite colour and I could probably figure out what she wrote on it.
I missed her. I miss her so much, I thought to myself, trying my best not to get choked up. It felt like I was being selfish. Maybe I was. But for once, I didn't care. I had to see her. I had to know. I had to-
"You can't be mad at her for leaving when you were the one who pushed her away all this time."
I was cut short as I remembered this excerpt. I wanted to swallow, but my mouth was dry. My throat didn't make any movements and I was desperate for a movement. I knew it was true. I pushed her away more than I could bear to count. But she stayed all the same... what if she got tired of fighting for me, when I stopped fighting for myself all those years ago when he had left? That must be the reason. She didn't want to see me because she was sick and tired of the way I acted. She was tired of me. She was sick of me.
If there was a summer breeze running through my hair, I didn't feel it. I wasn't walking anymore, I was frozen in place in front of the building where she was worked. People walked by me, almost through me, as I stood still, my eyes down at the white pavement. Somebody must have shaken me, because I heard a voice. I conjured up whatever energy I had in me to face whoever standing in front of me, hands still on my shoulder. I tried smiling - nothing. I tried to speak - nothing. Before I knew it, my breakdown crept over me, making me fall into this stranger, this bless of a man, who just dropped down with me as I cried and cried in his strong arms. My face was buried on one of his shoulders, smearing my salty tears all over his suit. But he didn't seem to mind, that's what I had wanted to believe. I think he tried asking what was wrong, but I couldn't talk. Not with the way I was bawling my eyes out. Somehow I slipped away from the stranger's arms and left for home. I didn't know where that was anymore, but I couldn't stay any longer. I had to, I had to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Not here.
I was crushed. When she froze, my heart shattered. The broken pieces broke into more little pieces. And when she fell into his arms, I held myself back so much, resisting the urge to hold her in my own arms. I couldn't, I wasn't entitled to. Maybe I did before, but now, it wasn't my place. The sounds of her crying made a tugging motion in my chest, I couldn't breathe, just stood there and watched as she cried. Over me. This woman was crying over me. If only she knew. If she knew the truth... there probably would be more than tears. My cowardice caused her to breakdown. I broke her. I did this. Warm tears streamed down my face, but I ignored it. It felt selfish of me to cry as well. I exhaled deeply, as silently as possible so that the duo didn't notice my presence. I was startled when she stood up so suddenly. I knew what she was going to do, she had to go somewhere. But where? I had to figure it out; I shut her out but I couldn't leave her alone. She was impulsive and spontaneous. If she... it would be entirely my own fault. I couldn't let that happen, but maybe that was an excuse for me to follow her around.
I didn't know where I was heading, but I was hoping to reach a destination. Anywhere would have sufficed, but I realized I just ended up at her front door. I walked back and forth on her front steps, knowing she wasn't home because she was obviously at work but I decided to try the door. Locked. I didn't have a spare key and I suddenly hated myself for dismissing it when she offered me one. I took a deep breath and I could've sworn I caught a glimpse of her. Maybe I was starting to hallucinate, that would be the logical explanation. But logic didn't seem so logical anymore. I hated not knowing, I hated being left out in the cold but I had no one to blame but myself. I was away for several weeks at a time, and I had depended on her reaching out to me first. When she didn't, I simply assumed she was busy. She was constantly busy so I didn't think much of it. But maybe I should've started a conversation every now and then, especially during my last trip. I tried to justify my actions, but I couldn't even do that. I should've said something, did something. But I didn't because I had so much pride and ego in me, that I just simply couldn't. There was a slight throbbing in my head and my chest felt constricted, so I decided to breathe some more. I decided to just walk away. For now. I would come back later, I told myself. Maybe now is not a good time. There was a lot of maybe's, because I wasn't sure of anything anymore. A thousand different thoughts went through my mind as I walked away, turning my head back every now and then towards her house until I was in my car and the house was out of my sight.
I followed her silently, keeping a close distance in case she noticed me, because then my shutting her out would be silly. I watched as she went up to my front door, trying the door. It was so like her, she tried doors, even though she knew perfectly well it wouldn't open. It was just the way she was. She was blindly optimistic about everything and anything, knowing well that things wouldn't simply go her way. But she tried regardless, and I admired that about her. She didn't know, because I didn't voice my thoughts as often as I should. I regret never telling her how much I adored her, how much I admired her, how much I loved her. Was it too late now?
Since she ended up at my house, there was one place left where she would go at times like this.