October 10th, 2007
Twenty-Two
Pretending to be strong is the most difficult thing to do in this stage in my life. I do not know if this is still the so-called existential angst my college professor told me a couple of years ago. I do not even know if I can stand all these--the pressure, the challenges, the abandonment I always find myself in, the feeling of loss and despair. The list could go and on and answers seem to float elsewhere I can't find.
Seeking comfort is something I have always resorted to doing. Tears? They seem to be hiding when you want them out. Friends? Oh well, they’re there I suppose. I just feel so consumed with forcing people to stay if they want to go. I deal with difficulties in different ways: sometimes with hysteria, sometimes in silence, all the time with nobody. There were days when I stare blankly at an empty space hoping I could be as careless and emotion-less as it is. I have always been that pathetic. I even reached the point of forcing people to stay with me even if they wanted to exist without my presence bugging them.
I want to love my self more. I want to learn that art and I am starting from scratch—an empty canvas, an empty self. And in the process of doing such, I know I’ll get to tumble and fall over and over and I can’t stand the thought of me going back to zero. Then again, what’s new?
Seeking comfort is something I have always resorted to doing. Tears? They seem to be hiding when you want them out. Friends? Oh well, they’re there I suppose. I just feel so consumed with forcing people to stay if they want to go. I deal with difficulties in different ways: sometimes with hysteria, sometimes in silence, all the time with nobody. There were days when I stare blankly at an empty space hoping I could be as careless and emotion-less as it is. I have always been that pathetic. I even reached the point of forcing people to stay with me even if they wanted to exist without my presence bugging them.
I want to love my self more. I want to learn that art and I am starting from scratch—an empty canvas, an empty self. And in the process of doing such, I know I’ll get to tumble and fall over and over and I can’t stand the thought of me going back to zero. Then again, what’s new?
Posted by RJ_happygolucky at 10:31 AM | 1 abused me!