White abyss

A day unnoticed. Again. Every day passes unnoticed.

Sadness, unreasonable sadness. I am enveloped within a childish kind of sadness. I am weak, oversensitive, and hyperaware of everything. I crumble at every failure made. I curl up at every mistake committed. I always try to get myself back up by reminding me that happy people focus on what they have.

But the gap, the void, the space, the hollowness, they’re glaring at me yet again. I am okay. I am okay to an extent that can be called happy, but depression peeked over my shoulders feeling left out.

Why do I feel lost again
Why am I so obsessed with being sad

I always manage to get my life together and somehow, I always manage to flip it a day after. I am already contented. I am satisfied with how things are working out. It wasn’t perfect –-– there are many areas for improvement, but I no longer feel that bad about being like this.

I do not know how it’s called. How this is called.

An imagery. A garden where everything and everyone is elated. Colors everywhere; Humor ran around while Serenity rest content seated on the grasses, feeling the cool breeze. Happiness, of course, was the most prominent feeling in the garden. It radiated cheerfulness as bright as the sun. But, looking disquieted, he stood at a corner gazing at the direction where Sadness hid–––as if an older sibling concerned about the insecure and ignored little brother. And, as if stricken with guilt, he stepped out of the garden––-now leaving me seated at the center of this white abyss, across Sadness.

It skipped and hummed while it drew shadows, satisfied that he finally had the garden’s attention. The garden which he now bleached colorless. Both Humor and Serenity have gone out of sight–––but came Sarcasm and Emptiness to keep us company. Emptiness is peaceful like Serenity, he whispered, and that Sarcasm can replace Humor’s entertainment. It smiled, as if to assure me;

and though a faint one,

I responded likewise

with eyes cast down.

Thinking how disappointing it was

to have let it become selfish

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Damned if you do, damned if you don’t

Ever encountered people who will really go out of their way to make you feel shitty for being who you are? Yeah, I know. What a miserable bunch. They will try to put you down for being everything that you are because everything that you are is everything they are not.

Trying to please everyone around you feels like being in a labyrinth — a huge one that didn’t actually have a way out. You go around strategizing and changing approaches, thinking if you tried hard enough, you’ll finally locate one.

But no, you’re perpetually trapped in the goddamn thing.

My life is like that kind of labyrinth.

Of course, I have changed my perspective on things through college. I realized just how idiotic and pointless it was to try to get everyone to like you, it won’t happen. But just because you understood that doesn’t mean change quickly follows. That kind of mindset was a social embedding made when I was a kid. It’s not going to wean off that easily.

All this time, it felt like I was just blindly trying to figure my way out of things. I tried to learn everything on my own as much as I can, tried to do everything as much as I could, all while simultaneously dealing with my twisted dispositions and emotional predicaments as a teenager. But none of it sufficed. Although I know it wasn’t, it’s as if none of my hardships paid off. As if all of these is stupidly pointless. And pointlessly stupid. 

And it never helped when discouragement and put downs came from the very people I expected support from. It never helped when people, especially my family, talk to me like I’m not doing it right.

Like how I might be a little too outspoken, honest, or straightforward.

Like how my strong personality might be too threatening to a potential partner’s ego.

Like how I might not be enjoying life the way I should.

Like how I might be too opinionated for my own good.

Like how I might be a little too serious for my age.

Like how I — there are tons of things. Innumerable. I never got it right. If you do nothing, people tell you off. If you try to do everything, people still do. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I was always either doing it wrongly or inadequately. It was always not enough. It was simply never fucking enough.

I’m tired. At times like this, the only thing I could do is walk away.

You can’t keep insisting gold to a person who only sees blue. You can never describe light to a person born blind. People deny and destroy what they can’t make sense of. You cannot force everyone to see things the way you see it. You cannot make everyone understand.

But you can try. You can only try hard enough.

Self-destruction

It’s not that I’m easy to read; it’s that I wanted to be read.

And it could get pretty difficult sometimes, given my dysfunctional disposition.

I got a year older a few days ago, and I don’t really know if I indeed am changing, or just becoming more of who I really am. To be honest, I’m becoming more conflicted with my relationships with other people than otherwise. I used to be clear about who I want to be with and who I trust. I cherish everyone who tolerates my noise and quirkiness.

But now I feel like I don’t know anyone anymore.

I’m having a good time with interesting and fascinating strangers. Not occasionally, but on a regular basis.

Nothing can be more twisted than that, I reckon. I was happy––too happy. It’s a foreign thing to me. It’s not normal.

I always knew that this aversion, reluctance, and confusion stem from my constant fear of happiness. I’ve long thought about it. I was programmed to turn this feeling into some twisted thing or phobia. I’ve had my fair share of disasters following euphoric events—I’m always afraid that every time I get happy, the next day pays for it. Happiness it seemed always had a price. They only let you be this happy if they’re preparing to take something from you.

I know this fear has ruined and is ruining every genuine opportunity to savour these rare times, but I can’t blame myself. This world is cruel.

Am I happy? Yeah, for a little while. For many little whiles.

And I’m not sad.
I’m okay.

And I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.