This is my life (currently) in a rant:
I'm currently going to school for psychology and advertisement/PR. I also currently work in retail. In the past week, I've realized how much of a slacker/failure I've been. Sure, I have a job and school on my plate, which can be overwhelming, but at the same time I feel as if I've been pretty relaxed about everything; I don't believe that I've stayed ahead of the game. I'm falling behind in certain things, but staying afloat has kept me ignorant of how much I'm struggling to do so. There's still so much space for effort, yet I've not applied myself. I'm coming to this realization and it makes me feel ashamed of myself a little. This isn't necessarily a bad thing since it has made me realize that I do care. I just have to act upon that concern.
I love my retail job. The people I work with (for the most part) are very friendly and welcoming. Sure, there are those that are pretentious and could not be bothered to even say hello or give a cordial smile, whatever. That's their problem. As long as they're satisfied with their lives and personality, that's cool. I'll stick with the people who I can smile and laugh with. The job can get overwhelming at times since it's technically my first serious retail job and basically everyone I work with has had a few months to a few years of retail experience. Whatever, I got the job for some reason, right? I deserved it. I think I'm getting the hang of it.
There's a boy at work that I've become close with. I think he's someone I can call a friend. The first time I ever met him, I knew that I was attracted to him. Sexually? Perhaps a bit. Although, I think that my attraction leans more towards wanting to get to know him, an intimate attraction per se. He has these beautiful azure eyes speckled with hints of green and hazel. He's good looking and everyone knows it. The first time we ever met, he opened up to me. It caught me off guard, but in a good way. Yes, I'm attracted to him and he has been very open to being my friend. However, he's straight. I can't act upon my attraction. It hurts a bit to know that I want something I cannot have and it's right in front of me. Perhaps it's obvious, to him or to anyone else, that I am attracted to him. But it's something I can never admit outside of myself. I don't want to ruin what he and I possibly have. If things go well, he'll be the closest thing I'll have to a straight male friend.
Working in retail has made me realize my dissatisfaction with my body. Sure, I always said that I want to be more fit and physically attractive, but nothing really pushed me forward other than some hopeful fantasy of having flat abs. Not even a six pack, I just want a flat stomach. Working in retail, especially in the city, I work alongside some of the best looking people. I think I look fat. I think that I am fat. It's not even just that... Compared to the others I work with, I just feel quite unattractive.
Brandon has a new boyfriend now as of yesterday. Good for him. I'm happy for him. How am I comparing it to my own single status? Let's admit it, we always compare our status to those of our past when things change for the better for them. Anyways, I'm satisfied with being single. Is it ideal? I honestly don't know, but it currently works for me. Perhaps I'm not ready for a relationship or perhaps no one has found me to be a good catch. Whatever the reason(s) may be, I'm single and I have myself to live for.
I can't believe that I'll be in Rome in just a little over three months. I don't think it will hit me until I've actually slept a night there and wake up the next morning; in a new place, new city, a new country. I account to the fact that I've been disappointed throughout my life for the things I always felt passionate about. For some reason, there's still this doubt in the back of my head that I'll be living in Rome, Italy in just three months. At the same time, though, I am excited. Who knows what sort of transformations I will go through while I'm there. Perhaps I'll truly find myself in the midst of a foreign world.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
I'm Sick
To start off, I just want to tell you that I never get sick. Never, ever, ever, ever... Well, close to never at least (considering what's happening to me now). I never get sick during cold/flu season and I never get sick even when working/living close to someone who is sick.
For some reason, I've started to get symptoms in the past few days. It started out with an itchy throat, then a little sinus pressure. This morning, I woke up with the feeling that my throat was really really dry and my sinuses felt like they had 2-3 pounds of pressure pushing on them. Now, I also feel as if my eyes want to pop out and the back of my neck feels really strained. I've never experienced cold symptoms like this since I was like 9 years old, when it would hurt to even turn my eyes side to side.
Usually, when I do feel a cold coming along, it would just be the sniffles and it'd be gone a few days later. This, however, feels much worse. Why is this happening to me?
Oh yea. Forgot, I'm a college student. I wake up for school at 6am every morning, then head to work until 11pm. I usually don't get home til midnight... Now repeat that 4-5 times a week. I'm not stressed, just tired. Oh so tired. The McDonald's breakfast every morning and a can of Monster energy drink every night I work probably aren't good ideas either.
For some reason, I've started to get symptoms in the past few days. It started out with an itchy throat, then a little sinus pressure. This morning, I woke up with the feeling that my throat was really really dry and my sinuses felt like they had 2-3 pounds of pressure pushing on them. Now, I also feel as if my eyes want to pop out and the back of my neck feels really strained. I've never experienced cold symptoms like this since I was like 9 years old, when it would hurt to even turn my eyes side to side.
Usually, when I do feel a cold coming along, it would just be the sniffles and it'd be gone a few days later. This, however, feels much worse. Why is this happening to me?
Oh yea. Forgot, I'm a college student. I wake up for school at 6am every morning, then head to work until 11pm. I usually don't get home til midnight... Now repeat that 4-5 times a week. I'm not stressed, just tired. Oh so tired. The McDonald's breakfast every morning and a can of Monster energy drink every night I work probably aren't good ideas either.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Untitled
Sometimes, crying myself to sleep is the only thing that helps me sleep, instead of staying awake with sadness.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I Wanted to Kill Myself
In the middle of my freshman year of university I wanted to kill myself.
I thought about killing myself, about not existing, at least five or so times a day, everyday. I thought of how it would be better not to feel anything or to even have a sense of consciousness... I felt constant anxiety. I felt alone.
I did reach out. I did try to find comfort in my friends. But they couldn't understand the situation I was in. I was often met with blank stares or blank promises that everything would be all right.
So what was the problem? Why did I feel like killing myself? Because of a bully.
She made my life hell. She verbally would attack me on Facebook along with her friends, she prank texted my cellphone, she posted rumors about me on online gossip boards for my school, and she would pass rumors around school. For example, she told people that I stuck anal beads up myself, that I was a whore, and she hoped that I would get an STD/STI; she posted links to my video blog on a school gossip board telling people how pathetic I was, encouraging people to watch it, ridicule it, and comparing it to a car crash that "you don't want to look, but can't help but watch." She truly put great effort into hurting me. That thought is what hurt the most: her extremely driven intent to cause me emotional harm.
I felt degraded by this girl and I felt like no one was out there to help me. I had friends and I had people that told me things would be all right, but for this specific situation I felt alone. I was alone. It hurt. I told myself that I hated her, that I wish she would just stop. But it didn't stop.
From September til October, I fell into greater depression until someone I barely knew reported me to my school about my pattern of depression. I was made to go to the psychologist on campus, who couldn't help but scribble notes on her notepad as I would pour my heart out to her. It felt good to talk to someone, but the feeling of comfort didn't last since her constant scribbling convinced me that her compassion wasn't genuine. I was nothing more than a case study to this woman.
After all that had occurred, I don't think I found immediate closure. I don't know if I ever will. I know that I've become stronger and wiser. At the same time, however, even the thought of seeing her still makes me slightly anxious.
As fate would have it, I ran into her today. I was walking with a friend and she was holding tightly onto her friend. I didn't recognize her at first, but in the back of my mind a sense of familiarity clicked. As soon as I remembered who she was, I couldn't help but look away. Her friend laughed as soon as they both passed by me...
After that encounter, I stumbled upon her Tumblr account as I was curious as to whether she has recently written anything slanderous about me. I found a blog post that showed me her vulnerable side. A part of her that I didn't know existed. She wrote about breaking down and all of her insecurities. It made me feel better after reading all she had written. I didn't feel better because I was happy for her suffering. I felt better because it made me realize that she was human too. It shattered this notion in my mind that she was some untouchable entity that could hurt me, but could not be affected herself.
No matter how much I could be upset with how she treated me, I couldn't hate her or find pleasure in her pain, even though she had driven me to thoughts about suicide. At this point, I finally could find myself to forgive her for all she had done. At the same time, I feel as if I've allowed myself to be liberated from the fearful grasp she had on me.
I'm glad I didn't kill myself.
____________________________________________
(The following is the entry written by her.)
Tonight I messed around with a substance I haven’t touched since last summer. I can’t say that I regret it, but it made me feel excited and nostalgic in some way before I even indulged in it. I’m not sure if it’s the steady approach of another year of school or the absence of my boyfriend, but the strange waves of my mood since he left for Florida some days ago have me dysfunctional and restless, but so so tired. Last night I was in the kitchen of the bar I work at, folding silverware, thinking about my life, or the lack of stability within it, and began to cry. Fifteen minutes later I was pounding shots like a champ and went home feeling pretty empty, despite the fact that I spent the next hour engulfed in a rather heavy conversation with a female ex-coworker of mine. I have always known that despite all of my battles, I am very lucky to have the life I live. It is true that the grass appears greener on the other side, but I think of all the people I know who are blessed in terms of money and familial relationships, and I realize I am so rich in experience, strength, and my ability to connect to the smallest and faintest of things. There are moments, however, like this week, when I crumble thinking about how 90% of my peers have no idea what its like to work 60 hours a week as a 21 year old full-time college student, so what - I can pay for my medical bills, receive an education for my ever promising future, and afford the rent to a studio I hardly live in? Meanwhile, I’m accused of being a golddigger and a heartless bitch roughly every 3 months without fail from a bitter kid who has not a clue who I am anymore, but somehow manages to dig up the most insane shit to slander my name a year and some later. I am in tears as I pour out my soul to this blog that I’m sure no one reads except for my crazy ex boyfriends and the insecure Asian girls who strangely envy me. Sometimes I can’t help but indulge in self-pity as I accept that this life is not at all the reality I had hoped for 4 years ago, this is not the reality I had known could even exist 4 years ago, and that my parents would be crushed if they learned that their little girl works until 5am every day because they finally lost the war. I think that it has be awful that I can’t seem to think of a person I could say all this too. My words fall not on ears but a screen, in a box with a scroll bar that keeps reducing in size as these terrible thoughts seize my mind. I wish my boyfriend was here to make me feel better, because as much as it pains me to say something so cliche and trite, his arms really are the safest place for me - where my only worries are whether or not all boys sweat this much and how late I will be to do my next ‘to-do’ if he keeps squeezing me this way. I think, if he were here, that he would scoop me up and ask if I wanted to eat ice cream. I know that I would hesitate a little bit in fear of seeming childish before I nod kind of excitedly. It makes me smile thinking about it, and again, I realize how lucky I am and want to delete this entire blog post all together. And as always, it all ends with me being a hopeless lover with a sleeve full of emotions. Sometimes I think I was born to be living in a world of rainbows and unicorns and I really hate myself. I still really hate myself actually, because if I hadn’t wasted the last hour analyzing my uncompromising feelings, I could have called him before he fell asleep and would feel at least slightly better about being a poor 21 year old who jaded long before her time. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.
I thought about killing myself, about not existing, at least five or so times a day, everyday. I thought of how it would be better not to feel anything or to even have a sense of consciousness... I felt constant anxiety. I felt alone.
I did reach out. I did try to find comfort in my friends. But they couldn't understand the situation I was in. I was often met with blank stares or blank promises that everything would be all right.
So what was the problem? Why did I feel like killing myself? Because of a bully.
She made my life hell. She verbally would attack me on Facebook along with her friends, she prank texted my cellphone, she posted rumors about me on online gossip boards for my school, and she would pass rumors around school. For example, she told people that I stuck anal beads up myself, that I was a whore, and she hoped that I would get an STD/STI; she posted links to my video blog on a school gossip board telling people how pathetic I was, encouraging people to watch it, ridicule it, and comparing it to a car crash that "you don't want to look, but can't help but watch." She truly put great effort into hurting me. That thought is what hurt the most: her extremely driven intent to cause me emotional harm.
I felt degraded by this girl and I felt like no one was out there to help me. I had friends and I had people that told me things would be all right, but for this specific situation I felt alone. I was alone. It hurt. I told myself that I hated her, that I wish she would just stop. But it didn't stop.
From September til October, I fell into greater depression until someone I barely knew reported me to my school about my pattern of depression. I was made to go to the psychologist on campus, who couldn't help but scribble notes on her notepad as I would pour my heart out to her. It felt good to talk to someone, but the feeling of comfort didn't last since her constant scribbling convinced me that her compassion wasn't genuine. I was nothing more than a case study to this woman.
After all that had occurred, I don't think I found immediate closure. I don't know if I ever will. I know that I've become stronger and wiser. At the same time, however, even the thought of seeing her still makes me slightly anxious.
As fate would have it, I ran into her today. I was walking with a friend and she was holding tightly onto her friend. I didn't recognize her at first, but in the back of my mind a sense of familiarity clicked. As soon as I remembered who she was, I couldn't help but look away. Her friend laughed as soon as they both passed by me...
After that encounter, I stumbled upon her Tumblr account as I was curious as to whether she has recently written anything slanderous about me. I found a blog post that showed me her vulnerable side. A part of her that I didn't know existed. She wrote about breaking down and all of her insecurities. It made me feel better after reading all she had written. I didn't feel better because I was happy for her suffering. I felt better because it made me realize that she was human too. It shattered this notion in my mind that she was some untouchable entity that could hurt me, but could not be affected herself.
No matter how much I could be upset with how she treated me, I couldn't hate her or find pleasure in her pain, even though she had driven me to thoughts about suicide. At this point, I finally could find myself to forgive her for all she had done. At the same time, I feel as if I've allowed myself to be liberated from the fearful grasp she had on me.
I'm glad I didn't kill myself.
____________________________________________
(The following is the entry written by her.)
Tonight I messed around with a substance I haven’t touched since last summer. I can’t say that I regret it, but it made me feel excited and nostalgic in some way before I even indulged in it. I’m not sure if it’s the steady approach of another year of school or the absence of my boyfriend, but the strange waves of my mood since he left for Florida some days ago have me dysfunctional and restless, but so so tired. Last night I was in the kitchen of the bar I work at, folding silverware, thinking about my life, or the lack of stability within it, and began to cry. Fifteen minutes later I was pounding shots like a champ and went home feeling pretty empty, despite the fact that I spent the next hour engulfed in a rather heavy conversation with a female ex-coworker of mine. I have always known that despite all of my battles, I am very lucky to have the life I live. It is true that the grass appears greener on the other side, but I think of all the people I know who are blessed in terms of money and familial relationships, and I realize I am so rich in experience, strength, and my ability to connect to the smallest and faintest of things. There are moments, however, like this week, when I crumble thinking about how 90% of my peers have no idea what its like to work 60 hours a week as a 21 year old full-time college student, so what - I can pay for my medical bills, receive an education for my ever promising future, and afford the rent to a studio I hardly live in? Meanwhile, I’m accused of being a golddigger and a heartless bitch roughly every 3 months without fail from a bitter kid who has not a clue who I am anymore, but somehow manages to dig up the most insane shit to slander my name a year and some later. I am in tears as I pour out my soul to this blog that I’m sure no one reads except for my crazy ex boyfriends and the insecure Asian girls who strangely envy me. Sometimes I can’t help but indulge in self-pity as I accept that this life is not at all the reality I had hoped for 4 years ago, this is not the reality I had known could even exist 4 years ago, and that my parents would be crushed if they learned that their little girl works until 5am every day because they finally lost the war. I think that it has be awful that I can’t seem to think of a person I could say all this too. My words fall not on ears but a screen, in a box with a scroll bar that keeps reducing in size as these terrible thoughts seize my mind. I wish my boyfriend was here to make me feel better, because as much as it pains me to say something so cliche and trite, his arms really are the safest place for me - where my only worries are whether or not all boys sweat this much and how late I will be to do my next ‘to-do’ if he keeps squeezing me this way. I think, if he were here, that he would scoop me up and ask if I wanted to eat ice cream. I know that I would hesitate a little bit in fear of seeming childish before I nod kind of excitedly. It makes me smile thinking about it, and again, I realize how lucky I am and want to delete this entire blog post all together. And as always, it all ends with me being a hopeless lover with a sleeve full of emotions. Sometimes I think I was born to be living in a world of rainbows and unicorns and I really hate myself. I still really hate myself actually, because if I hadn’t wasted the last hour analyzing my uncompromising feelings, I could have called him before he fell asleep and would feel at least slightly better about being a poor 21 year old who jaded long before her time. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.
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