I’m going to let you go even if it pains me to. I have to do this for myself because you’re poison. I reminisce the days that we spent together and I realised… maybe I’m the only one who is making an effort here, that I’m the only one who treasures the friendship in the first place. So I’m going to let you go because I’m tired, and that is the only thing that can make me feel whole again.
“In order for something to happen, you have to first believe it.” I’ve recently been in a hopeless place. My mind always wanders to certain negative possibilities that will likely happen in the future–my guy friend and I won’t be friends anymore. We will just be mere strangers wandering around the world, sometimes thinking at the back of our minds what went wrong and why things didn’t go well in the long run. He had been asking me why I had been cold towards him (but I am actually cold to everyone these days). I wanted to tell him the truth that it’s because I’m so tired of being attached to him and to everyone else. I’ve invested too much feelings caring for people and in the end, I am the only one who ends up getting hurt.
I keep crying everyday, knowing that things won’t be the same anymore. I just feel threatened about everything and I don’t understand what the heck is wrong with me.
My gut feeling always went right. I couldn’t explain why my gut feeling could predict certain moments in my life. It just acts up as if I need to be alert of what will happen in the future, without even telling me why. And when that moment happens, I always end up regretting because I didn’t follow my gut instinct. But then, it was not explainable so I wouldn’t follow something that was way beyond reason.
The first time my gut feeling went right was when I felt that my friend would somehow invite me to study out with him the next day. It was absolutely right. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to open his message and when I did, it was already too late. I didn’t know why I even had that gut feeling in the first place.
I had a lot of gut feelings that went right, and today, I also had a gut feeling that my friend would somehow invite into something–it wasn’t particular–and it went absolutely right. Wow.
Today was absolutely a great day for me. We were, at first, indecisive where to go out and have our little chat or deep conversation or whatever we planned on going to do. But then, I remembered that he actually wanted to try the taco of a taco place so he absolutely agreed to it. I was too astonished in processing the whole thing. I actually ignored his messages for almost half an hour, and then he chatted me once more if I was still there.
I think we had some misunderstanding about the hangout thing. I thought we were going to do it on Friday but then he asked me, “Did we agree on Friday? We didn’t.” I only nodded. Then it was really a hard place to arrive to, so I hitched a ride with him going to the place we agreed to. I kept him waiting for around twenty minutes because we had a misunderstanding where I should be waiting and when I got in his car, he chuckled at me. I was wearing a dark red lipstick and when he saw it, he laughed at me, but not the kind of laugh where he was making fun of me. He sounded so happy.
We were still full from the lunch we ate before we left from our respective houses. We roamed around the place for awhile and finally decided to go to the ice cream shop.
I was about to order a scoop of thick ice cream but then we went to the cake section and it was only worth 50% off! We both grabbed that opportunity. Nothing was sweeter than the taste of a 50% discount. We ate our cakes–he ordered a rainbow cake and I ordered tiramisu–and continued our conversation. I could say it was endless because we kept talking.
It wasn’t like I was the only one who was bringing the conversation, he, too, talked and our conversation never went to boring. We occasionally open our phones, well, he actually did that more than I did but only to look at his Twitter or Facebook. Then, he was hungry so we went to the taco place he wanted to try.
He sounded so lively when he ordered, and I only agreed to whatever he wanted to eat because we were splitting the bill anyway, and I think he was better in deciding what food to eat. We ate beef taco and it was the most delicious taco I’ve ever eaten. It was my first time anyway so it was a biased judgment I guess.
When he saw that the taco serving was tiny, he immediately grabbed the menu and ordered a quesadilla. It was also beef, and damn, it tasted so delicious. We talked in between moments when we ate. There was once, however, when he wasn’t paying attention to what I said, maybe because he was reading something over his phone. Then he told me we would be eating at an expensive ramen store next time when we wouldn’t have any problems. I was excited at the prospect of that, but it would be up to him if he wanted to eat ramen with me.
He told me the kind of place we went to was the kind of place where he would go alone. He has a car so I guess that was easier for him to go anywhere he liked. We went home after, it was nearing six-thirty in the evening. Then we drove on his way home (he’d drop me off before he goes home) and our conversation didn’t stop there. We kept on laughing at the stupid moments we had, sang out loud to sad songs on his playlist. It was a wholesome experience. It felt like my problems never existed in the first place.
This was a totally great day. I didn’t expect he’d agree in the first place when I invited him. And now, he’s already inviting me to the future plans he’s thinking.
I’m trying to hold my temper in.
I suck in a deep breath and try to understand things from his point of perspective. I’ve been holding my temper ever since yesterday, and I feel like I need to let this out once and for all.
I dislike having incompetent outputs, and most especially, I hate having incompetent group mates. I’m so fucking tired of tolerating mediocrity and them expecting that I will just accept it. They need to know that if they settle for less, then we won’t pass the semester.
I started this blog for the sole purpose of making my thoughts tangible. This was my hideout, where I could freely express my opinions and no one would care if it was absurd or if it was disagreeable, because opinions could always be changed and I saw myself, in the form of blog posts, grow into a better or worse person.
I was sixteen when I shared my unrequited feelings over my crush on a guy who was the top of his class. He recently graduated as a Summa Cum Laude, too, from BS Computer Science. I was proud of him because despite his financial problems, he was able to graduate with flying colours. I reread my blog posts pertaining about him, and sufficed to say, I was cringing at all of my silly actions. But hey, we would always be stupid. Life hadn’t given us all the answers. We might cheat during exams but life wouldn’t give us a one-way ticket to success.
And success was something that was solely defined by every person. Maybe winning an eating contest would be a success for someone, or just staying middle-class and working to provide for the family was enough for the other. (But let’s be honest. We all secretly want to be rich.)
After having moved on from my unrequited crush over this guy, here came my senior year in high school and another guy walked into my life. It might have been very obvious that he was the only guy I always kept talking about and rereading blog posts about him made me realize he evoked too much emotions out of me. I actually fell in love for him but I was too young to understand if it was love–or maybe just an infatuation. There were nights when I questioned myself like, “Why didn’t he choose me?”, “Why did I tell him what I truly felt for him?”, and most of all, “Why me?”. I didn’t know if he really did like me, maybe I was assuming a lot of things out of him. Whenever we talked alone, we never addressed the elephant of the room: our unspoken feelings.
I really loved him. I truly loved him. He was so beautiful on the inside, and talking to him made me forget I was ugly or too insecure of myself. He never told me I was beautiful, but when he looked at me I felt that I was. A lot of people noticed during my fourth year in high school that I was blooming into a whole new person. He was one of the people who made me gain my confidence. But that was all in the past now. He never chose me, even after I told him my feelings towards him, and that meant I would never be enough for him. It was okay, I already accepted the fact that we were never meant to even have a relationship to begin with.
It took me almost four years to get over him. I don’t know if it was because I gave everything to him–forgetting to keep a piece for myself–or maybe I was only in love with the idea of him and maybe that was why he left me. That’s the problem, I romanticized the idea of being in a relationship, forgetting that relationships are real and heartbreaks are totally painful and there’s nothing beautiful about it. It’s fucking ugly.
For the past four years I’ve been romanticizing the idea that he would come back or maybe someone would come along better. There wouldn’t be unless if you kept ahold of yourself, and love yourself, and appreciate the people around you. Sometimes though, at the back of my mind, I wished someone would just love me, and hold me close and tell me everything would be okay. I wished someone would just be there for me no matter what but at the end of the day, it’d be me who would look out for myself.
And I wished that someone was the person I’m currently thinking now. It didn’t necessarily mean this person would do it in a romantic way, it’d be too early for me to jump into liking another person, but at least I would still feel valued. Maybe this person values me a lot, but I don’t see it in my own eyes.
If other people at the background would pay attention to our interaction, they could conclude this person I was thinking cared for me more than I even noticed. I was still unsure of what he truly felt towards me, if only I could just ask him away if he cared for me, then I would be in peace. Instead, I’m only left by varying opinions of people I’ve talked to over this situation and they were pretty positive that he cares for me, and that he even likes me more than that (but I’m a hundred percent sure he isn’t).
So for four years, even if I’ve learned a lot when it comes to pressing social issues, I still haven’t learned how to deal with people. How do I deal people that I dislike? That I like? That I’m pining on? I felt stuck. I wanted to be myself, but then I’d have to learn how to tolerate people, not that they’re grating on my nerves, it’s just that there are times where I feel trapped especially when I express my opinion. They suddenly shy away instead of being interested to what I have in my head.
What I disliked most is that the older I grew, the people around me talk about hooking up, falling in love or just be in a relationship even if it isn’t even necessary for them. I guess we people will feel validated if we like someone. I’m not saying not to flirt, but it’s just that the people I’m with only talk about girls and their adorable features. I’m a girl surrounded with men who search for girls on Facebook and stalk the girls’ photos if she’s pretty or not. I don’t hate it, I just hate that I’m trapped and I find no one to get into deep conversations with.
I’m a blubbering mess. This ends my blog post tonight. I’m physically tired.
It was raining when you drove your car on the street, overtaking other private vehicles from the stinking flow of traffic in the city. The slow mellow music captivated our ears as our breaths exhaled loudly against the atmosphere. No one was breaking a word to cut the tension brewing around us. I was holding my purple bag tightly against my chest, thinking if I should go down even if I wouldn’t be able to directly get a ride home.
I couldn’t take this anymore–the painful silence–and I was thinking, how could you bear not saying a word to me? Was it easy to throw away the friendship that we had down the drain?
We laughed at our silly jokes, shared heartbreaks about our non-existent love lives, even bantered over the littlest of things–how we didn’t like each other’s tweets on Twitter–and I missed those. What was happening? Why was everything so different all of a sudden? You changed in only a span of two months. What were you doing the whole summer?
I shouldn’t be overthinking things because they could kill me, but here I am, eating myself over the idea that we might drift apart maybe in the near future. And that was the saddest part: we were the greatest of friends. I cherished being friends with you, you know? You always listened to my uninteresting personal life. I was even scared shitless sharing to you about my personal problems and even telling you about the bad things I’d done in the past.
Everything felt so different now. The way you moved around me was calculated, like one misstep and the tips of the scale would be imbalanced.
Let’s go to the part where we talked about our non-existent love lives. Last Wednesday, my ex-almost was in the lounge with his girlfriend, and you told me he was there. I was curious–and quite honestly, I have moved on from him–to see his face and his girlfriend’s face. But I wished you stopped insisting that I still felt something for him or even stop insisting that I liked our guy friend when in reality, it was far from that. Why did you keep on pushing that I felt something towards them? I don’t.
And whenever you talked about this girl you’ve liked for quite some time, my heart slowly breaks for some unknown reason. Was I good at concealing what I felt? I couldn’t distinguish if I actually liked you more than as a friend or if I only wanted you to become the best of friends–like I wanted to know all of your secrets because you’re comfortable enough to tell me and I wouldn’t judge you for that because I treasure you as a friend and I meant it, truthfully.
I still wanted for us to hang out, the one when you told me we would go get cake, but I think it wouldn’t happen anymore. I still felt devastated over it, you know? I liked talking to you because you liked talk about philosophical stuff. When you told me in class that you could imagine our Ethics teacher sitting down with while drinking coffee in Starbucks, I wished we could have that time, you know?
Your mind is filled with different strong opinions and I wanted us to debate at different perspectives. You’re so rigid once you made up your mind and sometimes, I don’t understand because you don’t give plausible reasons. I wanted us to go get some coffee to chat the time away–not just after we worked on our problem in Thermodynamics.
You’re a good person, not because you’re quiet and you do nothing about it, but because you do something about it–most of the time. I wished we could just sit down and talk for hours, and that was what I wanted for so long. I couldn’t tell you that because you’d probably get mad at me, like I only asked for the date today and you were suddenly rude giving me an answer. I don’t know why? And when I got home, I felt bad. Everything came rushing inside my heart and it felt bad. I felt hurt.
I remembered when you chatted me that you were in our regular study place, and I knew you were implying that I go there and study with you. But I read your message too little, too late. You immediately left the place because you couldn’t understand what you were reviewing. You know, I thought after we finished our Thermodynamics homework we would go home, but we talked. And I liked it. I liked talking to you.
I always internally smile (like smile in my head) when you told me, for the first time this semester, that you liked our talks. We were heavily stuck in traffic (maybe?) and we were jamming the music I had in my library. You said, “I’m so glad we’re stuck in traffic.” I asked you, “So that we could jam more to music?” You didn’t answer after that, so I wasn’t quite sure if you were confirming what I asked, or if it was incorrect.
After we finished our homework (which was extremely incorrect, by the way), you dropped me off to the nearest place so that I could go home immediately, we were again stuck in traffic. You were devastated by it, but then you said, “It’s okay. I like our talks.”
You don’t know how much that meant to me. Your honesty about it makes me happy that there’re people out there who likes talking to me.
It was raining. These thoughts flooded in my head whilst we talked, the music dissolving into the background and it was time for me to go. And maybe we should see each other someday.
I am so fucking tired of feeling all this shit. If only I can be a very emotionless robot like Sherlock, then I’d probably be happy. It seems like the world hates me so much for wanting to know about a lot of things, and for easily understanding newly introduced concepts. I’ve been very oblivious that the people I called friends when I was in first year college until second year college talked behind my back and disliked the way I react during Miss Piandong’s Chem 11 class. It has never been my intention to make them feel dumb or make them feel like an idiot. If they had a problem with me, they should’ve told me immediately. I always gladly accept the harsh reality than a beautiful lie. I can never understand their inferiority complex when it comes intellect, so I can never put myself in their shoes. But if they seriously had a problem with me, they should’ve told me.
But what hurts the most is that my so-called best friend also talked behind my back. She couldn’t have just told me right away that she had a problem with the way I treat her. I honestly don’t know I hurt people, and that’s just who I am. I can change, if they just tell me, and that’s a part of my growth as a person. It feels hurt to be betrayed in that way—the fact that she’s not telling me—and I think this will be the final straw of me giving a shit with people, in general. I’m so damn tired of caring because they always misunderstand how I care. I may not show it in the most affectionate way—or most caring way possible—but I always want them to know, that in some way I care even if it hurts them. I know that being harsh to people drives them away from me, and that I should change that even if it’s agonisingly slow, but they should also try to understand me. I always, in the best way that I can, try to understand them. I never hated any one of them because that’s just who they are. But the fact that they don’t reciprocate it, makes me hate myself more. I hate myself. I fucking hate myself.
Sometimes, there are days when I just want to die because it’s easier not to deal with the mess in this world. How can you love yourself when they don’t allow you to be? How can I love myself when no one loves me? I know I should love myself but, how can I? When the very world I live in cannot appreciate or tolerate my existence? I want to die in the least painful way possible—probably drowning myself. One day, one day when the time comes, when I can’t deal with the world anymore I will. I really will do it.
I thought my so-called best friend was okay with me. She wasn’t. I thought she was my best friend. I guess no one ever wants to be friends with me. I wished I killed myself earlier, back when I was younger to save myself from all the pain that I am currently in. It fucking hurts. Can somebody kill me please? Please, kill me now. I’m so dead tired. I just want to die.
Or if there is even a God, can He just take my life away? If He truly loves me, can He just end this misery I am in? What beauty is there in life when all it ever does is give us one big fucking lie?
The fact my mother worsened my mood. I was already in a negative disposition, and my mother scolds me for going home late. If I wasn’t in a bad mood, I would’ve put up with her anger. She will never understand me. So, what’s the point in explaining myself when she doesn’t listen? Better be dead by now then.