The fault in (my) words

My life lately basically moved in between sleeping, eating, reading, and watching animes. Not that I have a problem with it, but it sure does require some getting re-used to. My senior life in college was practically the opposite of that—I couldn’t stay put in a room, a quiet one at that, and I constantly seek to hang out with my friends and orgmates, or with anyone for that matter.

I’ve become dependent on the company of people, haven’t I?

Well, it seemed like it. Funnily enough, no one believes me anymore whenever I claim to be introverted. Almost everyone thought otherwise. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that’s a bad thing. Maybe both. Why am I confining the thing in the first place?

But for a moment, I wondered if it was actually the case now. I began hanging out with people I barely knew. I began craving new faces, new voices, new people in my life. The small circle I used to bind myself in began expanding—but, it was a change I’ve acknowledged and realized a long time ago. For some reason the fact overwhelms me again. A matter of restrospection, could it be? It’s only from a restrospective view of things do we realize the full weight of the changes that occurred in and to us, and in everything and everyone around us, after all.

But, I couldn’t distinguish the me now from who I’ve always thought I was. Is this the person I have always been? Or the person I always wanted to be and have finally become?

Did I lose myself, or simply found it?

And yet I wonder if the answer to those even mattered.

I wonder if this thought engagement should be taken as a positive thing, because I only write when I’m lonely. I never learned how to write about happy things, because majority of the words in my vocabulary are associated either with sadness or hatred.

Initially, I wanted to write about Sarah.
I wanted to write about how she doesn’t understand how important she’s become to me, and I will never mean to hurt her.

But I was never good at appreciating people and things.
Or at least, I was never good at expressing appreciation.

I don’t know the right way to keep people, the right way to keep friends, the right way to keep people I hold dear.

Because I always end up destroying everything I love.

You’ve grown on me. I’ve become severely attached to you. You’ve become too important. I was convinced I wasn’t born like everyone who were born in pairs, who needed to find the other pair to be complete, but you came. You came and I thought maybe I needed something, something like ‘the other half’. But these are things I don’t casually tell people, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how. I was straightforward, but I’m not good with words; I had a knack for confrontations and debates, but I don’t know how to communicate appreciation and gratefulness. I can only communicate sadness.

I don’t know how to properly patch things up without making it worse, without saying things that will only fuel the fire.

How do you make someone understand something you don’t understand yourself?

How do you evade the fallacy and ridicule that comes along with justifying a supposedly wrongdoing?

Is there a better way to put it? A better way to make it understandable and comprehensible?

That the people we loved the most are the ones we were most cruel to?
It doesn’t need logic, does it?

I’m sad.
I’m lost.

I’ve been self-destructing and self-loathing since that day and I’m beginning to lose my mind. I began hating social media. I immersed myself into other things, anime mostly, to steer my thoughts away.

And little by little, I’m beginning to seal the void I thought you were made to fill in.

Little by little, I’m starting to get re-used to this.

Feeling like this.

Feeling nothing.


Ineffable disappointment

My inability to put this inflating disappointment in my head into words is itself disappointing me.

There are no proper words. No proper terms. No proper adjectives. No proper expression.

I keep fumbling for words, losing track of what I have initially wanted to express as I tumble down onto thoughts of contempt and exhaustion, insignificance and triviality, superficiality and mundaneness, pretense and hypocrisy.

The only thing that reverberates over my entirety is that I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed.

I’m getting worn out and sick of dealing with this same old trivial shit. I’m tired of going through the same cycle—all the while knowing that the person I’m trying to pull out of the limbo is the same person dragging himself back down.

I’m disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed.

This makes me feel useless, in every sense of the word—my words rendered worthless, my efforts deemed pointless. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to be so ridiculous—so ridiculous to proudly parade his stupidity across my face.

Disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed.


Somehow at this point, I’ve finally found my resolve.

Over the course of about a lifetime, I’ve never been really happy about the romantic aspect of my life. At least not absolute. I’ve never entered a relationship, and I’ve never actually discussed my status with someone. Perhaps it was partly because I’m too egotistic to be the one to bring that sort of thing up, and partly because I’m afraid that would immediately put an end on a seemingly beginning of something unknown. Or unsure. So I guess I’m stopping here. Not that I was looking for The One all my life (seriously that’s stupid and delusional), it’s just that I’ve been endlessly hoping that things would work out. That things could work themselves out. Because if things would be, they’d be. Let the chips fall where they may they say. And similar cliched crap.

That was a dumb thing to believe in.

I know, I know. I don’t know what lies ahead but it’s all in my hands. I decide my fate. And if I won’t do anything nothing would come out of this. But I’m a fool. I don’t know what to do. Initially I thought I did. I believed I did. And people believed me too and listened to my advices. Ironically things worked out on their end, though it wasn’t guaranteed it’ll be well long enough. But in my case it didn’t.

Well after all I always gave myself the opposite advice.

And should I vindicate that, I only know that still, I’m afraid. I am a coward. A big coward. I’m stuck in my past and I chose to be there. I chose to be there because in the past, albeit the pain and sufferings, I was happy. Not to mention temporarily happy. It was the lone thing that worked. She was the lone person who openly and genuinely returned my feelings, the lone person who made me feel requited.

I shouldn’t have included her case. But anyway, I figured that any kind of romantic relationship isn’t for me. I mean that commitment thing. What a joke.

And maybe I’m happier without a partner. With just, being thisjust like this. Enjoying my own company and my friends. Being fruitful in different fields.

I’d shun anything that provokes feelings. God forbid I engage into any friendship with someone I’d end up liking.

Not again.

I will never become a fool again.