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.

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Follow-through

I suck at relationships, really. Not specifically the romantic kind because I don’t even have first hand knowledge of it. I mean in a general sense. I suck.

I fucking suck.

Beside sucking at keeping in touch, I suck at being appreciative and expressing my sentiments in a way that does not come off too offensive. I have a sharp tongue. I kind of believed I had it toned down a bit but it’s as sharp as ever. I don’t know how to apologize properly, and I keep choosing my pride and ego over anything.

There are times, though, that I stepped on my pride to keep my friendship with someone but most of them ended up with me regretting doing it in the first place. I don’t know. I try for people but I just don’t seem to get any of it right.

I like rare and a lot of rare things and people that I stumbled upon ended up slipping away. It has to be my fault, isn’t it? And I know that opening up this kind of thing to people will only result to them reprimanding me and lecturing me, telling me the same thing almost everyone has told me, even myself–-–that I only stop at realizations and I don’t really attempt to change anything.

You know, reality is, you can have all this kind of realizations and still be unable to do anything about it. And what I fucking hate the most? Almost everyone I talk to makes it sound so simple. They speak as if knowing the right thing and doing just that is so fucking easy. NOPE. Knowing what’s right and doing it are two separate things. Not everyone easily learns the follow-through.

It makes me sick. When people start getting self-righteous, I have this urge to scream at them. But I resort to silence. I resort to walking away. Because it will get nowhere. I will get pissed and become irrational.

Maybe I’m really better off alone.

I’m probably better off alone.

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.

This time I’m not going to watch myself die

They say the bad ideas made the happy memories.

I wish that applies all the time, because I’m drowning with bad ideas. I’m filled with negative thoughts yet I’m surrounded with unhappy memories, even miserable ones.

I feel regretful, sometimes.
Just sometimes, because I forget anyway.

Thoughts are overflowing in my head. I’m losing focus in fact. My thoughts continue to stray to that moment, and everything rushes back in. It keeps resonating in my head although a thing was never spoken.

I wanted to run and simply forget.

I want to escape, I don’t think I have to be forgiven.

Because no, i’ll never be forgiven.

I’ve smashed it, with all might stemming from thoughts of pain and vengeance.

I was the first one who got hurt;
the first one who got confused;
the first one who felt betrayed;
the first one who felt abandoned.

You’ve brought this upon yourself. You turned me into this. You knew exactly what you did to me. You knew exactly what you were doing to me.

But I let it all slide. All of it. Because you were my friend.

Because I was nobody to anyone compared to you.

However this time, I’m not letting it off. Being hurt doesn’t give me the right to hurt other people as well, I know, but it’s an option.

A better option.

YOU PULL THE TRIGGER. YOU FINISH THIS. Because I’m not doing that.

I’m not doing anything for anyone anymore.

Relegated

I wish I knew better enough not to get so affected by a single, shallow action. I wished I knew better enough not to let it get to me.

It felt like he chose them over me.

And nothing hurts more than feeling your worth relegated by a friend you considered special and exceptional.

Why? Why?

After everything we’ve been through?

There’s no point trying to save this one-sided friendship. I don’t know why I’m trying anyway. Perhaps because you said we’re a lot alike. And I thought that maybe you’re pretty fucked up like me when it comes to keeping in touch.

But I was wrong. It’s been like this ever since. I’m trying, and it’s fucking useless. I can’t be the only one trying. You have to do your part too. You have to meet me halfway.

But the way I see it now, you have it all together. You don’t no longer need me.

Why did I think I could save this?

It’s over, long over, completely over ever since you guys got together. 

Right now I feel like a fucking gofer you just disposed of. 

I do hope I don’t see you around.