I broke my cigarette break. Ha. The irony. I only lasted 12 days. I didn’t have a fucking ounce of care yesterday, so let’s smoke the night away.
But today I’m starting again.
I also took a yoga class yesterday. My body stretched and stretched, let it sweat. Give me endorphins so I can stop being anxious. Didn’t work. I cried anyways. But at least I became tired enough to have a dreamless sleep until I had to go to work again.
And today I’m feeling much better.
My default reaction is still anger whenever I hear his name, but my mind is clearer now. It’s a new day.
The girl who went to sleep last night is not the girl who woke up this morning.
It’s so hard to be the bigger person when you’re so hurt and angry, when you feel like you have every reason to be angry. This situation feels familiar, like I’ve been here before. I think I’ve been here before. So whose fault is it then? Every fibre of my being wants to throw all the blame on you, but I know I should have been careful. I should have seen it coming. And now that it’s come, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Yesterday I was ready to face tomorrow. Today I am being replaced. Quickly. Swiftly. Without any warning. Or maybe the alarms have always been blaring, but I was deaf and blind.
I have always wanted to be kind. I want to be kind so bad, because I want people to be kind to me. But I can’t feel it right now. I’ve been denied the one thing I wanted badly and I feel justified to be mad. But that’s not how I want it to go down.
What do you think I’m made of? Rock? Iron? I am none of those things, and it’s so hard to be vulnerable when people expect you to be strong. Even when you’re crying, tears all over your face, they still think you’re being strong, when all you want to do is bury yourself under your blanket forever with someone holding your hand so that you know that you’re not alone. Strength makes people admire you, but what good is strength if it keeps people away from you? Without your meaning to.
All of my achievement, what’s the point, if people are going to see it as a wall around me, a wall they cannot break through, even though I hold the door wide open for them (for you) so they (you) don’t have to hurt themselves (yourself) trying to bring down that wall. Here I am unlocking the door. Please come inside. You keep the key.
Am I only here just to teach you a lesson then? Is that it? Is that how it’s always going to be?
I don’t want to turn into someone who can’t see others being happy because she thinks everyone should be as miserable as she is. But this moment it only feels like there’s poison spreading from my chest and I see red. Red. I want everything to burn and turn to black ashes.
I thought I’ve been very kind to you. Why can’t you be kind to me?
I’m not enjoying this anymore. Please return me to my zombie state so I can stop hurting all over. Nobody knew about us anyway. Maybe I can pretend it never happened. Then maybe it’d feel like it never happened.
I wanted more, but I don’t think he wanted to give it to me. So I ended it. And inside I was hoping he would look for me.
It hasn’t been a week and I’ve been so miserable. Now I don’t know if I was relieving him of a burden or it’s actually my defense mechanism so I wouldn’t be hurt even more (the past month spent wanting him made me insecure and anxious).
I’ve been crying endlessly. The more I think about it, the more questions I have. Did I not think it over thoroughly enough? Shouldn’t I have fought harder? Is it right to give up this easily? Is this history repeating itself? What have I learned all these years? Does he miss me? Because I surely miss him like hell. Should I just tell him rather than blogging about it?
I think the greatest achievement of Inside Out (2015) is it gives you a visual medium to talk about how you feel. Even us big kids often have a hard time conveying how we feel. There was a time when Anger dominated my mind console. When I learned how to accept things, Sadness replaced Anger.
It has always been Sadness since then. Joy is there all the time to even things out, but she never exactly takes over the mind console. Sadness reigns and I can feel us becoming best friends.
Sadness has been talking with Fear lately. They’re making me anxious. And I’m being masochistic about it. How to feel safe? :(
PS. Oh god I hope this fever would be gone in the morning.
It doesn’t look nice. It doesn’t sound nice. It doesn’t taste nice. It doesn’t feel nice.
I’ve been trying my best to be nonchalant, but every time I see it, it still doesn’t feel nice. On the contrary, I feel like I’m bleeding a little inside. It’s not fair to ask you to stop, because I should be the one responsible for myself. But I don’t want to stop. I’m still hoping. Hey, you, look at me.