You soar in the sky so high through the magnificent layers of height- Can you fall for someone you don’t know?
Like a trumpet fanfare or a burst of fireworks- Is this how love is ignited?
And spectacularly you land- To an audience watching your great descend.
This is such a dreadful place. I hate pretending. But I don’t think I’ll be able to survive without pretending. Or smiling. Two face three face four face five face how many faces. Saying things that I obviously do not mean feel think. It’s so dreadful. People, I hate people. How they look like, the things they do, what they sad. It all gets to me, to my nerves. If only I could draw a little bubble around myself, but a non-bubble concept of a bubble. Because bubbles can be burst.
I don’t trust anyone here. Not a single person. I can’t even bitch to anyone about my stupid predicament. I used to be able tell a huge handful of people anything and I would be having these trust issues, but as it is, all these people have proven themselves to be- untrustworthy. It’s kinda sad…
People not knowing boundaries, not being able to tell what is appropriate and what isn’t, and your stories, once you have said it once, it will be out there forever. It’s irritating like that. True friends, accquaintance, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being too skeptical, but I am so annoyed.
When I want solitude, I am not granted. Instead, I am treated with noise and noise and noise. I shut my door and I still have to care about the feelings of others. What has the world come to. And it becomes really stuffy and then it aggrevates my sadness so I open my door again. And just when I got the peace that I want, I get disturbed again. Sometimes I feel like deleting people away from my life. Temporary or permanently. Very very annoyed now.
I especially hate how peeple have their own conceptions of the world, and impose these conceptions on others. Egocentricity maybe. Can they please grow up a litte? Stop shouting so much, and telling other people what to do. Everyone have their own rights and their own particular unique way for viewing the world. It doesn’t mean that if it differs from yours, that it would be wrong. It just means that our world is a mulit-dimensional one.
I get damn annoyed when people act mature. When they put themselves at a ‘higher up platform’ than others. Always being the omniscient third person. I don’t know if what I have is a gift becasue I am sharp and can sense non-verbals easily- the subtle shift of the eyes the little cringe in the shoulders, the change in posture, and I know what people are thinking if I care enough to observe. And when people narrate, or when I narrate, these ‘higher’ people, they judge, as if they are uninvolved, as if they are the experts, silently evaluating what is going on. It irritates me damn a lot.
Today is such an annoying day. So many annoying people
Decisions that I have to make- that would pale five years down the road and I will say to myself why did I spent so much time thinking about them.
But right now, they are of utmost importance and these things are the only things that occupy my mind. By brain is filled to it’s absolute brim and my heart is heavy. I want to do both things but I think, and I know that I can and should only choose one.
I’ll have many more of these things that will come my way. I’d rather decide on what to eat everyday and where to go for meals. It’s mindless but easier. Imagine the ethical and moral decision that I will have to make few years down the road. I am getting myself ready for that.
Is it okay that sometimes, I feel empty inside and out. Like there is nothing within me, and that I feel so clean like a fresh and untainted being but at the same time, numb and emotionless just because.
I am nothing like her, but everything like her —
“The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage ——
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free ——
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salty, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.”
Tulips by Sylvia Plath.
I set expectations. So high. And this makes dreams come true. The unimaginable is now reality and everything feels so surreal. But at this same moment, everything is overwhelming. There seems to be no time to stop, pause, for a little breather because the clock is always ticking and there is so much to do. I fear that if I stop doing something, I would lose all of this. The dream that I long for. This unimaginable that has transformed into reality.
I expect a lot from the people around, and hence, am constantly dissapointed because no one can ever meet the expectations I have. And because of that, I have to expectations, because I don’t want to be dissapointed. But this is meaningless conversation because my heart and soul will bear the brunt of this internal turmoil that my mind takes control of. It feels like I am striving for perfection, for what I think is ideal. But what is perfection? What is an ideal? Most importantly, what is important to me?
What is important to me? This is the greatest question that I am perplexed by now because there is a huge amount of things that are very important and I don’t know which one outweighs the other. Doing so many things, it is killing me, slowly. I feel like I am losing myself day by day and with each passing day, a little part of me fade away as I become this self that I want to be, this self that I respect, this self that I long for. But it pains me because then, who am I? I still want to retain a great part of who I am. When I accomplish great things, I don’t want to be perfect. I want to be me. I want to be who I am. and with each passing day, a little part of me fade away as I become this self that I want to be, this self that I respect.
Some days, I feel that I am not good enough. Other days, I feel that I am at the top of the world. Some days, I feel that everyone else is better than me. Other days, I feel like I am better than anyone else in the world. And this confuses me deeply. The clash and incongruence of my values and beliefs. I always thought that I was at the top of the world, that I was the best, and if I wanted anything, I just had to work for it, ask for it, whatever, it would not be beyond my reach. But throughout the two years as a social work undergraduate, I learnt lessons, many many lessons. I learn values in class and as I come into acceptance and gradually integrate these values, I became a better person. I was humbled by the many people I met in the community. The capacity for hope, for change, the glimmer in people’s eyes, that spark, of those disenfranchised. And all these makes me feel that these people, they are better. They are stronger. They know more. They know better. And I took myself down from the pedestal I placed myself on.
But this change, it is not a comfortable one. It does not just affect my professional self. It affects my personal and private life. I found it very difficult to be blunt and brutal as I was before. I used to be a natural and I was good at what I did. I liked being insensitive and cared little of the people around me. But now, it is difficult. I wished that I didn’t have to change, but I’m a little glad I did. I need to find the congruence I long for…
Yes?
I’ll only do it if it makes me happy. I don’t want to put myself through any misery and if there’s any inkling of that, I’ll be out, immediately.
I would be sad and depressed if the only people I had throughout my life were these. We’re worlds apart and have departing values making it so hard. And sometimes you’ll just wna scream fuck off but you realize that you’re no longer an adolescent and your actions have repercussions. So sometimes, I’ll miss the overly straightforward me, who will outrightly and blatantly ask the people I detest to fuck off, make them cry, and ostracize them. But I’m better than that now, so no.
I think I overcompensate for my lack of energy by appearing to be too energetic. Truth is, I’m tired and overwhelmed. My exterior self doesn’t correspond with my internal one. But if I don’t put up such a front, I know I will just crumble and break apart. So I’m only doing this to ensure that I stay alive. Even if it gets tiring sometimes. And I think that it makes people happy, when you make yourself seem less like an intellect. Plus if I don’t smile I look like I’ll eat someone up. So it’s just what I have to do, if I care.
I’ve never understood the meaning of overwhelmed until this week. I think I went crazy, momentarily. There is just so much to deal with and I cannot complain because I put myself in this position and signed up for all these shit. I have five sports now, and three committees. It’s crazy. On top of that, in two weeks, I have four deadlines. This is what’s driving me crazy. I am overwhelmed. I thought I was depressed, but no, I could still be happy from time to time, tiny moments, but mostly, I’m not. I honestly can’t wait for this whole thing to be over. It’s such a dread.
But underneath all these, I know that I can do it and I will live past this shit phrase.
This Very Reason - 