Musing no. 29: Depression Stinks

OOOOO UPDATE.

So I decided to end the other post mid-writing, and now it’s been what.. Crap, I don’t know, like 3 weeks after I initially posted it?

Anyway, I am depressed today. There isn’t a particular reason–maybe I’m just tired, hangry, cranky because I just changed my diet drastically, and started working out again–but I still feel down. Which is really annoying, because there actually isn’t anything going wrong with my life right now.

I am thankful that I am with someone who understands me when I’m upset, but of course there’s the “I’m burdening you, am I not?” mentality I get when I get depressed. It sucks. This feeling sucks. I hate it, and I don’t want it, and I don’t need it. Because it’s a slippery slope from there. I go into all the horrible crap I’ve been through, the horrible crap I’m going through, and the horrible crap I’m about to go through. Jeeeeez, brain. Chill. Holy cow.

So I, then, have to rally myself and start enumerating the good things I have going for me: my sister is out of the hospital, my boyfriend is wonderful, my grades aren’t dead yet, I don’t have stress armpit stinkiness, I smell like cupcakes, I have gum I can chew on during one of the most boring classes ever created, I can type away my feels–even if I don’t know if anyone reads this crap–, I can pick my check up today, I actually feel good about my body, I have sea salt vinegar chips I can go eat once class is done. etc., etc.,…. Wooh.

 

But this is a daily battle, and it’s sooo sooo difficult to have people stay in your life when you have to deal with this all the freaking time. It’s not like I love wallowing in it, it just sideswipes me like a kid on a skateboard who suddenly gets catapulted into the air because some random ninja turtle came out of the pothole and pushed it up. Random analogy, yes, but you should be used to that by now. LOL.

Anyway. I guess I have to just try and wake myself up for 2 hours before I pass out during class. Help me, Lord Jesus.

 

Musing no. 26: Another sleepless.

Can’t sleep, yo.

Tomorrow I need to be up by later. Meaning tomorrow is now, and in approximately 4 hours I need to get up and fix my life lol. We’re welcoming new students to Columbia. About to encourage those new to the challenge and remember how far I’ve come in spite of everything I’ve gone through. All my choices, all my mistakes; but I choose to learn.

Even if being whoever I was before now was easier, at least I know I have a purpose. Yes, we will all have horrible times in our lives where we feel like the ability to comprehend the reason and purpose for those times are obsolete. Yet we keep on; we have no choice but to keep on. Some may lose focus on their purpose, others may get side tracked. It will always be there, though.

I used to want to blame other people “ruining” my emotional well-being, but I forget that I have a bigger responsibility to myself. I am in control of how I react. I am responsible for how I treat other people.

Yes, I’m a little piece of work too. Nobody said I was perfect. I’m just good at dishing advise I don’t take, which–by the heckin way–everyone is. 😏

It’s good to feel like you have the ability to lift blame off of your shoulders and place it on others, but some do the complete opposite, too.

How others choose to be to you has nothing to do with you. That’s in their control.

How things become and how things end up–no matter how unfortunate or tragic things end up being–is not entirely dependent on you. (Leaving that open, because it doesn’t just fall under life here, but also around the world at all times and different eras).

You choose. You pursue. You fight for it, if it’s worth it.

And if it’s not?

You had fun. 🤙🏼

Musing no. 25: Hello, Wordsmith.

Words. I’ve always fallen for those so good with words. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I love to talk so much, that when someone else speaks I prefer to listen. But that has never benefited me, to be honest.

I dislike when people say things they don’t mean. They say things you want to hear, claim to be honest, then if they fall through–and you did expect them to–they say you have no faith. Excuse me. If I listened in the first place, then I’d have lost my soul already.

We sometimes forget how our words affect others; the way we say things and what our words mean can be totally different. Some may claim to be pleased doing this, some may lie about it. Whatever. You’re in charge of what you do and say to others at this point.

 

There will always be disappointment. You’re literally surrounded by liars. Family, friends, lovers, what-have-you… They all lie to you regularly. Hell, you even lie to yourself regularly. No, Janet, those pants do NOT accentuate your bum.

But my point is, don’t lie to yourselves. When you lie–self-righteousness like “I’m not the same person I was… I only deserve the best… I have to become better for you” type of crap–you don’t like to the other person. You lie to yourself. No, you don’t deserve the best, you can barely handle a real relationship. No, you are not the same person, but that same person makes you who you are, and you can’t really escape it. No, you don’t have to become better for me, you need to become better for someone better than me, because in your eyes I was not enough and I was flawed. THERE. Isn’t being honest SOOO much easier? Jeez.

 

I can not wait until I find someone I can speak to with any thought–no matter how shocking or appalling, how wondrous and amazing, how insane and inane, how beautiful and awesome. Time will come. I shall wait. I shall speak, and I shall be honest.

 

And. So. Should. You.

Musing no. 22: Lullabies

When I was a toddler, my mom said I would pat my bum and lull myself to sleep, as if my parents were doing it. I needed that comfort of being able to sleep in a way that I am most comfortable with. I would even hum to myself, as if I were singing myself to sleep.

As a teenager, I remember singing myself to sleep while wishing I was back in my country the 2.5 years I spent outside of it. While crying.

As an adult, I rock and sing and cry myself to sleep, but doing these don’t work anymore. Do you think it matters that I can’t sleep? Yep.

But why am I wide awake at this time of night? Oh, it’s morning. 0401 to be exact. I wasn’t meant to be on this side of the planet. So the goal is to go back where I belong.

 

Sometimes Life gives you a giant reality check and hits you with all types of maladies in the different facets and connections in your life, and it just brings you to your knees. I respect life. I just wish things went well, for once.

If I passed away right now, what they’ll find are empty water bottles, clothes I haven’t folded, books I’ve been dying to read, photographs I’ve taken, letters I’ve written, things I’ve sketched, and my dead, naked body. I don’t know if that’s even of any concern. In fact, I doubt anyone I know knows.

Ugh no, I am not taking my own life. I just like to imagine life without me, and how easier it would be for other people if I weren’t around.

 

Maybe I’ll just move to a country where nobody knows me.

Maybe thinking of that will give me sleep. Sleeps are mini-deaths anyway.

Musing no. 21: Broken-hearted 

Oh the Broken-hearted.

Spent their time pouring affection onto people who don’t reciprocate, or recognize that their feelings are genuine; that they just want someone to pour their heart into and love. 

And now they’re stuck hurting because people can’t love them the same way they expect. They expect. Don’t expect. 

It’s difficult when you spend a lot of time letting people know you care, that you’re always there, that time will pass but your emotions will be the same. And now you’re slowly going insane. Because they can’t do what you’ve intended for them to do. It isn’t fair to them; is it, to you?

We break our own hearts by handing them to people who can’t do the same for us.

No wonder some of us numb ourselves. 

It’s so easy to say, “don’t give up, love will come.”

It won’t. It never will. Some have to pursue it, and other times it just stays still. 

So then those who are trapped with nothing end up hating. Being miserable. Projecting hate onto those who don’t understand why. And yet we all sigh, we all sigh. 

So I’m tired. I’ll just be still.

And I personally accept the fact that I should just watch idly by. And not pursue. And not wait. And not expect, and not hate. I don’t know if I was made to have a mate.

If I end up alone, I guess I’ll be fine. 

No one wants to end up with a crazy; no one wants to be just mine.

Musing no. 20: Emanating

Any emotion one feels emanates. 

You can see it in my eyes. You can see it on my smile. Whether it be joy, sadness, pain, or excitement, you feel it by observing.

And yet all I feel is a void that’s missing feeling. It’s numb. It lingers from inside your chest, out into your arms, your forearm, your wrist. It takes over your hand, and your fingers feel warm at the tips. I feel it, and I hate it. 

My dad was right. I need to stop being too happy because everything will be balanced out with pain. 

But now I can’t genuinely enjoy joy, or peace; I await the arrival of sadness and chaos. How morbid. Don’t be like me. 

I have 5 layers of blankets. It’s summer. It simulates a hug. Simulates comfort. An embrace that I may not ever find. By inanimate objects that can’t rewind. 

Don’t be stuck in my mind, it’s no fun there. Everyday is a struggle to have fun. Everyday is not a fairytale. Thanks for telling me that, &$)@. 

I’ll just go to sleep. Sleep usually fixes it. Usually. Fixes. It.

Musing no. 19: Freedom

What is freedom?

What does it entail? Does it mean you are genuinely free from that which enslaves you? Or is it just an illusion that keeps you in chains in a way that makes you think you’re in control?

Is freedom being by yourself, or having the ability to enjoy whatever state you’re in?

Is freedom being surrounded by people who feel the same, or being secure in your solitude?

Is freedom the ability to travel, when you could enjoy what’s around you without cost?

Is freedom your ability to speak without hindrance, or the ability to speak and not hurt anyone with your words?

 

What is it?

Is it defined by someone else telling you what you need to do to feel free, or is it defined by your ability to decipher that which benefits you most?

Is it a way for you to practice your “free-ness” by not being tied down to one person, and just jump from one to another on a whim?

Is it really freedom when you confine yourself in a belief solely yours?

I don’t know either.

 

I think true freedom is found when you have peace with what you do, and don’t hurt those around you; and yet find fortune in what’s within, what’s surrounding, those who are there, those who are everywhere. And you feel love and are able to love–without holding back. THAT is freedom.

 

 

Musing no. 11: Are you awake?

Hi, it’s me.

Today, I feel like I’ve lost my fight. It’s okay, I’ll finally have peace. I remember feeling this when I was 14. Nobody believed me, because he was blood. Relatives would never do that. Nope. Let’s still help him go to school. Let’s still feed him when he’s hungry. Let’s ignore the fact that our daughter is wanting to kill herself because this human-imposed “purity” was the basis of that of a fulfilling and honorable marriage. But let’s help the enemy instead.

I feel it again today, unfortunately. And this time, I’m by myself. No one listens to you anyway, so what’s the point in surrounding yourself with people who have no care except to promote their own well-being, when you’ve been selfless this whole time? When you’d drop everything in a heartbeat, travel to them in short notice, but you’re just a passing hobby that gets too complicated. So bye, “it’s not you, it’s me,” yet again. Laugh it out. It’s going to be the case anyway.

She’s always handing her heart to people who would receive it, but not give anything back.

You’ll pass. you’re just a game. Try to explain it, and you’ll go insane.

Just wake up. It’s all a bad dream.

 

Wake up, you’re by the river stream. Pick the right choices from there. Don’t pick that box up. Save your money. Don’t buy that knife. Don’t cut your hair. Be beautiful. Keep singing, never stop. Don’t drink that.

Keep reading.

 

Is it something you’d die for? I doubt that’s passion, that’s just sacrifice and a justification of what’s “right.”

Does it make your heart beat fast, dilate your pupils, excite you, beckons you where you get distracted for hours on end, without tiring? That’s it.

Wake up. It keeps you awake. Find something that makes you want to stay away.

Don’t go to sleep.

Rage against the dying of the light.

Musing no. 7: To write about other things

Hi, it’s Lo.

So today I’m supposed to write a 12 page paper about geisha. I chose this topic because I feel like there needs to be more awareness about how it is slowly dwindling in appreciation. I’m not saying it’s not getting the attention it needs, but I decided to choose this object for my final paper.

My question is, why am I writing on here instead of writing my paper?

I don’t know.

Maybe I just needed a quick break from thinking about things that I just need to observe, and not try to change. I have this powerlessness that whatever I try will fail, and I end up being right.

But what if I keep writing my musings? Maybe someday I will find purpose. Stop the sadness that constantly visits my thoughts, even in the midst of times that are supposed to make me happy.

It’s kind of sad. Haha.

I don’t know if anyone will ever care about what I write here, or what impact it can make. But this life just seems so bland. Once all the highs are over, what’s next? Give to others? I’ve done that. Do what I want to do? I’ve tried that and have failed so far–or am still working on it.

It’s really difficult when I’m alone with my thoughts most of the time. I just wish that sometimes I could explain it to another person, so they know I’m not just morbid all the time. I just need reminding that things will eventually be better.

 

Just like you need that reminder too.

So I’ll remind you, while I wait for my reminder.

Musing no. 6: Allergy medicine

I feel like I’m floating and sinking at the same time.

To prevent my lungs from drowning in unwanted liquids, I have to consume very mind and body altering medication, and it’s screwing up my thoughts.

Why am I here? Does it matter? Do butterfly wings even flutter? Am I really here, or is this a dream? Why is everything like imaginary–it seems?

 

It’s nice and sunny outside, but all I want to do is go to sleep, and forget that i’m here, because I’m so exhausted. I feel like all my reason and all the help I need are gone because I fill my mind with questions no one is willing to answer. Be patient with me and understand that the reason I want to hold your hand and question things is because I’ve been dealt it, I’ve been dealt a hand. Maybe.

 

Maybe my thoughts are all the same, maybe I’ve slowly gone insane, but remember that what I say and do are not reflective of how I feel about you.

Maybe I’ll ruin it, maybe I won’t. My life is full of questions because when I used to love, I never asked a question and yet, there I was–left, abandoned.

I’m not quiet, I’m quiet–maybe audibly quiet. But the noise that goes through my head and my heart are such a storm that could rival that of the typhoons that take over the ring of fire every year.

But here I am now, and the questions that go through my mind, all the qualms, all my guesses, my worries, everything have to do with me wanting to be there, not screw it up this time, be with you. Not be left. Not be abandoned. I open up my soul, bare.

 

And still, no one knows what’s in there.