What Lies Behind the Shape of You

The most terrible and wonderful thing that life does is that it shapes you.

All the problems, all the people, success, failure, luck, fame, illness or downfall; every single experience molds you.

What comes with it is a decision to make. Anything that life throws at you, you can choose however you want to react. And as Albus Dumbledore once said, these choices show us what we truly are.

Lately, life has been throwing me the biggest rocks. At first, I was angry. I often said what anyone experiencing the worst of times would say, “WHY?” I felt hopeless and irretrievably broken. All I saw was darkness and the death of hope. I succumbed to depression and tried to take my own life. Well, you can see that I failed. I guess a small part of me wanted to live so here I am now.

I continued to be a dead woman walking for a few weeks. Then one day, I woke up and found that I’ve become a version of myself from a parallel universe.

All I remember is that it was as sudden and as unexpected as the first roar of thunder. There was no specific reason at all, no great motivation or inspiration, no single cause of the change. Maybe it was because of what Dumbledore said, I don’t know. But one day, I woke up on the right side of the bed and lived my life with a little hint of sunshine from then on.

My best bet is that it took a while, but this version of myself right now is a work in progress of what life intends to mold me into. My traumatic childhood, my success in middle school, the hell I went through in college, my probing and nosy relatives, our financial issues, my depression, friends, home life, all the mistakes I made, all the right turns I took, my hard-working yet emotional mother and my lying, cheating, never-present yet responsible father: It all adds up to this. I’ve been treading a tightrope and now I’m at the middle of it. Through everything, I now realize how life shaped me.

For the longest time, I’ve blamed life and all other entities I can blame for trying to stone me to death with problems. At that time, it seems like the only thing I can do. I realize now that it was what I chose to do.

It’s not easy, it seldom is. But now I choose to shrug some things off, take on life and look at things through slightly-colored glasses.


Life on the Fortress of Solitude

I’d like to think that i’m good at being alone.

I’ve never truly wanted someone to be with. Not since my parents split up. Well, maybe sometimes when I see a happy couple, i’ll be envious for a second but then it’ll pass and that’s it.

I like doing things on my own. I go to the movies by myself on a regular basis and enjoy traveling and grocery shopping alone. I love staying at home, cooking only for myself or cleaning the house in peace. I get by without any emotional support from other people (even though God knows how much I need it). I’m not bitter, I’ve never needed anyone else to pick me up from whatever kind of hell I find myself in from time to time. I’ve always thought i’d manage to live alone my whole life.

But when everything seems to be falling apart, like right now, I can’t help but wish that someone was here with me. Not necessarily a lover, maybe a friend. Someone who would just listen or crack the right jokes at just the right time, someone who would patiently wait while I try my hardest to stop crying, someone who would try to cheer me up by buying me a Twix candy bar. Someone who would tell me to stop sulking and suck it up because life goes on. Someone who would make me feel like everything’s okay just by sitting beside me while my whole world crumbles to a heap of ashes.

Sometimes, I think i’d pick a companion over being strong enough to conquer this shit by myself. But then reality slaps me hard across the face and reminds me that that’s not an option. And I guess that’s how I break the trance and survive with just me through all the bullshit.

Latin poetry, anyone?

A lot of people label me as pretentious.

Let’s see. I like poetry, on some occasions, I use highfalutin words (sometimes even when I know it’s unnecessary), I listen to classical music for pleasure, I enjoy reading Latin writings, I spend quite a lot of time looking at and appreciating abstract art, and I love sharing historical facts and trivia. I am also aware that I tend to point out grammar mistakes and the like.

Aside from the fact that I may have offended some people when I corrected their mistakes (I promise, I did it in a polite manner), I don’t understand why many find my hobbies annoying. I think it’s simply a conflict of interests. What they don’t realize is that that’s just one side of me.

Goddamn, I really do sound arrogant as fuck, don’t I? To hell with it, call me pretentious if you like.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S (???)

How do you know if it’s time to cut a person off of your life?

Seriously. Does the standard “pros and cons list” apply? Can you really pit “gives great advice” against “doesn’t pay debt?” Hell if I know.

I would say I have just about the right number of friends for an introvert. In truth though, I think I can count on my fingers which of them are real. But the real problem is, I don’t know if those who aren’t counted as “real” are worth keeping. I just can’t tell if the good outweighs the trouble they cause me, and it’s just not petty stuff, mind you. Some of them really affect my mental state. I’m really considering taking this matter to a shrink or something.

Oh Time, My Old Friend

I love how time gradually erased you from my memory. First to drift away was your features. The mental image of your face started to fade. I forgot how exactly your eyes look like, even the curve of your lips when you smile. Then, your voice came next. This was a tricky one because I loved your voice. The way you sing to me, how sweet it was when you call my name. The exact timbre of your laugh. I thought I would keep all of it in my memory. But time was a good friend. He came and took away all these bits and pieces from my mind. Time knows all they would do is hurt me.

Last was how you made me feel. I almost didn’t want Time to take it. Because you made me feel special, you made me feel loved. You made me feel like I can do anything. But those positive feelings tie up to what came next. Towards the end you made me feel insufficient. Your condescending words made me feel inferior. These feelings were too strong, it was almost impossible to take away, but at some point, almost too subtle to notice, they were gone. But feelings leave scars. No amount of time can erase those. Scars left by emotions are engraved lessons.

Oh darling, you were so, so wrong for me. It feels so good to be rid of you; mind, soul and body.

Who Opened the Floodgates of Disappointment?

Self-loathing is nothing compared to when a person you truly love asked you to sit down and listen to her as she pours out all her resentment over the things that you’ve botched through the years.

That’s what happened to me today. My mom sat me down and asked me to listen to her as all 5-years worth of resentment came tumbling down her mouth. All along I thought hating myself was brutal, but what happened several hours ago took everything I am and tore it to pieces.

I don’t know what brought this up. Maybe she was going through something immeasurably tough and thought it would be a relief to pass some of the burden to me. Here’s a summary of what she said:

“I still can’t accept that you didn’t graduate on time. I bet it’s not even that difficult to pass your course. You knew that we were all counting on you, but you chose to waste a lot of time. And on what? Tell me! You could’ve lifted us all up from this shit by now if you tried your best. Can’t you at least try and be useful? Take any available job, for one. I thought I already made it clear that you’d be the one to pay for your sisters’ education. When did you become so selfish. Grow up and stop being so self-centered. ”

Mind you, up until yesterday, she said that everything’s fine and she understands that university life is tough. I may sound like I’m okay, but can you imagine? There’s nothing left to say but putangina. There’s nothing left to do but to continue being irrelevant, only now, with the added shit ton of load on my back that urges me to fall deeper into depression. Oh, how I love this life.

I am/not

This isn’t about what you think it’s about. Idk tho, maybe you’re right.

I love to write, but I don’t write that often. I am depressed, but I feel extremely motivated from time to time. I sometimes cry violently for no apparent reason. I am selfish at times, but on others, extremely giving. I feel like I have definite principles, but can still be swayed by public opinion on some occasions. I am too young. I am too old. My whole life is still ahead of me. I have already wasted my entire existence. I don’t know what path to take. I have a clear image of where I want to be. I am not who you think I am. You know exactly what kind of person I am. I am you. I am as random as the falling of rain…but is the falling of rain random? I cannot be defined. I want someone to figure me out. I am irrelevant. I secretly want some people to make me their priority. I am fine on my own. I will be someone relevant someday. I just want to get through life. I live for TV series and movies. I care about other people. I should love myself first. I am not gullible. I won’t read the whole article. I don’t give a damn about what other people think. Do I sound like what I want to sound like in this Facebook comment?

No, this isn’t just about me. Nothing’s wrong with you, honey. Humans are not on earth to emanate perfection. Just always try not to hurt anyone. Or destroy the planet.