18 and a half years. I have already lived eighteen and almost a half years in this world and I still don’t know where do I really belong. I’m still confused on what do I really want. Am I in a rush? Am I wanting things to happen so quickly? Am I wanting more than I what I already have? I don’t know. What I know is that I can’t stay on one thing. I need new things as much as possible. I need more options in life. I need more. I need more…


Stop and all the thoughts that occurred to me after you said that word

I still remember that day when you finally smiled back at me. I was wearing a plain white shirt paired with turquoise shorts. I was studying for my exams that day when you called my attention to borrow something and it’s as if everything was back to normal. As if nothing bad had happened between us. As if there’s nothing to worry about. You smiled back at me so innocently that I wanted to instantly smile back at you just so you would know that I appreciated that small act of kindness.

But I never really did.

Because I know that deep inside you’re still judging me. You’re judging me because of what you know about me—the worse kind of things. But what can I say? You knew me because of those things. Those were your first impressions of me besides being that innocent and shy girl you see in class, someone who doesn’t know the answer to the question our professor asked her.

One day you told me to stop whatever we were doing with ourselves. I don’t know exactly why, but you did. Right back then, I swore I was nervous. I was nervous of the days after that day. Will I be able to talk to you again? Will I be able to reach out to you again? Will I still be able to consider you as a friend?

Because just so you know, I’m really afraid of losing people. I’m afraid of letting people go. I’m afraid of setting them free.

But, you know, at the same time I’m also afraid of keeping them. I’m afraid that they might get scared of my attitude. I’m afraid that they won’t show up after a while because I gave them a reason to go away.

Maybe that’s what happened the first time you told me to stop whatever we were doing. I got overwhelmed with you presence. I got too relaxed and comfortable with you that I never really thought through my actions towards you. I got no control of myself that all I ever thought about was my feelings and I never really considered yours.

But surprise, you came running back. You came back and told me all the shit about me. You told me that I was a sad teenager and that’s not a good thing. You told me that I need a boyfriend even though I keep saying “No, I don’t need a boyfriend or anyone in particular.” There was also a time when you told me why I am depressed, that I am crazy, that I need to stop blaming all to myself.

And I thought it was making me good. Well, it was making me feel worse and great at the same time. Because you also came back and gave us the permission to do it all again. You told me that you trust me again. And that was it, sealed with a kiss.

A kiss of death.

Nobody warned me enough that this life will be hard. That this kind of lifestyle will need a lot of understanding and patience. That it requires a whole lot of the “I don’t care” attitude towards everything. Nobody warned me that I will learn how to hide the pain and shame as I keep on going in this lifestyle.

All I wanted was to be appreciated. All I wanted was to feel like I was important. All I wanted was the attention and satisfaction.

And I thought I got all of that after that moment that you kissed me. I thought you came running back because I can give it all to you. I thought you were looking for me because all you can ever think about was me. You even told me that you consider me as your best friend. You even held me and kept me in your arms as if you needed me so badly.

It all turned out to be such fake imitation of what you really think of me.

Because the second time you told me that we need to stop whatever we were doing, you told me that what you need is just a friend. But not a friend who keeps on talking to you all the time, who I can ask if we can go to dinner or go for drinks, basically not a best friend, but a friend who gives you space and will not really talk to you that much because we might become a hot issue or who will not ever ask you to hangout ever again.

And now, I’m sorry, but I hate myself.

I hate myself for believing whatever I thought you meant that day you kissed my lips again. I hate myself for thinking you really cared about me when in fact all you really cared about is you and whatever is good to you. I hate myself for thinking that you’ll like me enough because I can give you what you want.

I hate myself for not ending this sooner. Everything becomes bad when it comes to you. I hate it because I even did things I never thought I’d do to someone who just doesn’t care about me. You’re the trigger to my depression right now and all I want to do is not get a taste of you anymore.

But I’m scared, once again. I’m scared that if I start ghosting you, you’ll forget about me. You’ll not remember that I’m still here, your “friend.” I’m just really scared of losing another person in my life who really knows me. I’m done with people leaving me behind with all the memories they made with me and it’s as if I’m the only who cherish them.

How Do You Fall In Love?

Ever since that day that I learned that love is a complex thing and it takes the right person for you to be sure that you’re really in love, I haven’t really thought that I love someone. Now, every time I would feel something for someone all I can think about is I just like them and I just really want to be in a relationship.

Love doesn’t become an option anymore.

Now every time I watch movies where in characters would express their love for their partner it becomes cheesy and corny for me. I am convinced that it’s just words and that it’s hard to believe those things when reality comes striking in. Sadly, I am convinced that it’s impossible to even hear those things from someone.

I’m scared. I’m scared that maybe when there’s finally someone who’s worth loving I wouldn’t know how to love, I wouldn’t know how to express my love for them, or that I wouldn’t know that I am even in love. I’m scared because I might be the one who will get hurt and that just sucks. Just because I wasn’t aware of being loved or being in love I would lose that one person who can make me feel things?

Funny that I became like this because I loved too much before. I gave too much of myself to one person. I gave too much love. I gave too much effort. I gave too much energy. And now that I know how being left and giving too much feels, now I’m scared that that might happen again so I’m always denying the feeling of love.

Maybe all I need is someone who will convince me that not all is like that. Someone who will make me feel like loving someone is a pleasant feeling. Someone who will love me as well.

I Care Too Much About My Looks, It Hurts

I grew up thinking that being pretty will make my life easier. That being pretty will open the doors to great opportunities. That being pretty will just be an easy task to do. And yes, I thought wrong.

I grew up as that child who is not told to be beautiful or anything, just cute, as they would describe me. And I was convinced that I am because it’s what they all say. But then I grew up even more and learned that there’s this thing called a beautiful face and a perfect body. And so I did what every other teenager would do when their insecurities sink in. I sulked. I told myself that I am different, that I am unique, and that this is who I really am. But it did not help. All it did to me was make me feel more miserable.

And so I was determined to make myself feel pretty. Exercise. Eating right. Make-up. Up my styling game. Be confident. I began to be fine and didn’t mind what others may think even though I know that they would still judge me. But despite that, I still did what I know I can do just to make myself feel great and good.

I thought I finally achieved that life-long goal. I thought life will become easier. I thought wrong.

Now that I know how to dress myself, how to express myself, and how to be make myself look pretty, I am hurting even more—the heartaches, the stress, and the anxiety. I wanted to get people’s attention but I didn’t want them to stare at me from head to toe. I wanted people to finally like me but I didn’t want them to like me just because I’m pretty outside. I wanted people to tell me that I am pretty but I didn’t want them to take advantage of me.

It’s all different now compared to when my thinking was simple is beautiful. Everything about being pretty and confident is complicated. I wish I was just good with being simple and just me. But I guess I will never be able to gain some self-esteem if I didn’t know how to make myself look good and feel good.

It’s that complicated.

What It Feels Like Crying Over a Boy after a Long Time of Not

I feel so fragile and vulnerable. I feel so weak and hopeless. I feel so many things all at once and as if I can finally see things so clearly. I feel like I’m starting all over again.

Before I met you, I talked myself off that this will be nothing. Just plain friendship and a little of those butterflies because nothing hurts a bit of making myself happy. Before I met you, I was this brave girl. Brave enough to take all risks. Brave enough to not follow the rules. Brave enough to go the distance. Before I met you, there was nothing wrong with me. I was just a little sad but that was normal of me. I was just a little girl still finding her place in this big world. Before I met you, feelings and emotions were something I was not afraid of.

But then I met you. I met you and you were spectacular. You amazed me in such a way that every time that I look at you, you were this guy that is so hard to catch. You were like that hot guy in a high school teen movie and I was that girl who just hangs out and is someone who blends with the crowd and is just there staring at you every once in a while in a class where we belong together.

Then you talked to me and it made my world shake. It was like everything became upside down. It felt like an alternate universe. Because it was, well, you. A guy I actually like talks to me and wants me to talk to him. It was just like a dream. But then you held me and that was the time I was sure that it was not a dream. You took me to dinner. You held my hand. You made me feel safe. I was in your arms. I was everywhere. I was exploring every part of you and you were exploring every part of me. You told me things no one has ever told me. You made me feel things.

And that was when I started becoming afraid of feeling.

I was living the moment. I was just going with the flow. I was just being that girl that you knew from the very start. But you just—nothing.

You became nothing.

You were nowhere to be found. You disappeared. You were ghosting.

But I told myself not to cry. I was not to cry. Because I was feeling nothing…but the fact that you disappointed me. You told me that you will protect me. You told me that you will be there for me. You told me that.

And then, where are you now?

Here I am, crying over you. Crying over those moments. Crying over not talking to you. Crying over losing you. Crying over myself for being so dumb. And crying like this makes me feel like a stupid person. A stupid person who already knows that this will happen but is still hoping for something because I can still see hope for whatever we were up to.

You’re just a boy. You’re just something that makes me happy. You’re just something that makes me feel like I matter. But maybe that is what I need. Or maybe not now that I am convinced that you honestly don’t care about me anymore.

And now I’m in the starting line again. Starting this building myself up all over again because I was destroyed. That wall I built was taken down just because I cried over a boy, again. Never again. (Hopefully.)

When You Feel Things Too Much

I hate feeling things because I am convinced that I suddenly become a totally different person whenever I do feel. It’s as if my mind has a button for every single emotion and I would shift to that other me because somebody chose to push that button. Which is what usually happens that explains the triggers I have.

I hate feeling sad and lonely because I become that person who stays in bed all day and all night. I become distant to people but also wanting to talk to them, but I would choose not to because I am sure that I would annoy the shit out of them. When I am sad, I would overthink a lot of things. And by a lot, I mean a lot. A ton of thoughts swimming around my head, wanting to be released, but I cannot. When I am sad, there’s a possibility that I am thinking of wanting to die. And sometimes I would hurt myself and I hate that, I really hate that.

I hate feeling jealous and mad because I become that person who wants to make war with a lot of people. I would get jealous to someone but I would get mad to a person also involved with him and I would want to kill them. When I am envious, I want to kill people. I want to kill every single one of them. I want to kill that guy who broke my heart. I want to kill that girl who slithered him. I want to kill that wall. When I am envious, I would punch a wall and make myself feel miserable and strong because I want to convince myself that I am capable of taking those people down—those people who hurt me.

I hate feeling needy and clingy because I become that person who says everything that comes in their head. I would not even think of what I am going to say, I would just burst out my feelings and show them my vulnerability—which is a really fragile part of me. When I’m needy, I would show everything to them. I would bare myself in front of them just being the authentic and miserable me, and that sucks. Because that part of me is a sign of my weakness, which is also what happens when I’m needy. I would strip down my ego and pride just to let you know that I need you and that I miss you and that I want your attention all on mine.

I hate feeling happy and enthusiastic because I become that person who is too energetic and that eats too much energy off my body. I am not an extroverted type, I’m an introvert—shy and likes doing things on my own. But when I am happy, I talk a lot and would say things that are too good to even be true. When I am happy, I would not even think about the reality that I am really a sad person and everything makes me cry and that I am a hard person to understand.

I hate feeling things because it makes me feel like I am a difficult person and no one will ever like me the way that I am.

One Thing That I Hate About Myself That Are Connected To Other Things I That Hate About Myself

I really hate the fact that I become the person somebody hates. I don’t understand why I unconsciously act like someone that the person I like dislikes. I don’t know if it’s because I just want the attention or I was born to act the way things aren’t supposed to be because I was made to disappoint people?

The first time I meet a person, the first thing that goes in my mind is would he/she hate me? And the time they tell me that hate a certain trait I would always keep that in mind because I don’t want to irritate people, especially now that I know that they don’t like that kind of attitude.

But after days of being not that way, I do the opposite.

What’s just sad about this is I would expect these people to stay by me when in fact I’m doing something that would cause them to stay away from me instead. I’m so difficult. I don’t even understand my intentions anymore. Like why would I want them to stay when everything that I do since then is do the things they don’t like?

I’m so confusing.

Then I see myself just giving too much of myself to these people. I suddenly become vulnerable and weak whether we just met a week before or we’ve been friends since the first day. Why? Why would I even do that? Why would I bare myself out there when I don’t even know what’s ahead of me?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Everything about this makes me hate myself. I hate myself for being too clingy. I hate myself for being too needy. I hate myself for asking too much attention. I hate being too dependent on people. I hate having feelings. I hate having to cope up with people and what they want. I hate not putting myself first all the time. I hate that I would always think of others first—what they would think, what they need, or what they would say.

I lack the self-love that they keep on reminding everyone.

I don’t love myself. I still don’t accept this part of me. I still think that feeling these things isn’t right and that people won’t accept this as well.

The hardest part of this is they will not accept me unless I learn to accept myself first.