You ask me why I turn off my emotions so often. You ask me if I don’t have the guts to face what I feel. You ask me what being a robot is like.

Growing up, any emotion other than happiness was weak (basically).
I turned my emotions off because I never had people to help me deal with them.
Then it became my life, who I am, and everything I’ve become used to all this time.

I turn them off because I don’t want them to rule my world, but they do.
I turn them off because I don’t want them to get the best of me, but they do.

Maybe I don’t have the guts to face what I feel, but I’m learning.
Maybe I don’t know what it is to be a robot, but I didn’t want to know anyway.

I look at you and my answer is, because this is me.

Advertisements

Sometimes I know my worth.

Sometimes I have the guts to get up and say “I deserve better”. Sometimes I have the courage to simply walk away from something that is hurting me. Sometimes I have it in me to believe in myself and everything that I am.

After all, I’ve learned from the mistakes I’ve made. I’ve taken a lesson of some kind from the problems I’ve caused in the past. I also am a changed person. I’m not who I used to be. There are still things that haunt me, that I look back to, or that I let bother me even today. There are things I haven’t fully dealt with, and things I need to face. But…in the end, what other people think of me shouldn’t change how I see myself, my past doesn’t write my future, and I have the choice to write my present and my future in anyway that I wish.

But sometimes I don’t know…

Sometimes I let the negative memories cloud my mind. Sometimes I let myself isolate from the world and trap myself in a dark and cold place of mind. Sometimes I get hopeless and feel lost, as if I don’t know who I am.

I start to hear the voices come back and I remember all the things that have been said to and about me. I start to remember all the stupid decisions I made when I was younger and start to regret everything that I’ve ever done. I start to slip and feel as if I’m a waste of space.

When I know my worth, not much can break me. I can get overwhelmed. I can get stressed. I can deal with something where I’m in over my head. I can be so, so strong and confident. But when I don’t know, everything breaks me. My brain suddenly connects everything back to a horrible memory or a scarring feeling from the past. Suddenly, everything seems to be working against me even when I’m actually getting a lot of work done. Suddenly, I feel alone and unwanted and I get trapped there.

I could vaguely remember how it felt to be confident and strong, but I wouldn’t be able to remember how to get myself back there.

If I were honest….

If I were honest….

If I were honest with myself, I’d know that I crave human interaction.

Not in the way where I want to go to the loudest parties and dance until I can’t feel my feet with a hundred strangers. Not in the way where I am looking for the next bar to visit. Not even in the way where I am texting all my friends up each weekend to go shopping. Not even in the way where I am calling up old friends to get lunch and catch up over some weird new trend that’s catching fire on Instagram.

But I crave interaction…or, maybe I should say, I crave meaningful interactions.

Where a simple “How is your day going?” text will brighten up my day when it’s sent by the right person, because I know that despite their busy schedule they still care enough to check up on me. Where a quiet study room with a couple busy friends who will motivate me to bust my ass to grasp every single concept I need to master. Where a simple walk in the park after a long week would feel like all the weight on my chest had vanished after the first time I laughed.

I don’t care if the conversation is as simple as “how are you”, “been busy and stressed”, “is there anything I could help with?”, “no but thank you for asking”. I don’t care if the conversation seems bland, as long as it’s meaningful and it’s coming from the heart. I don’t care if it’s ‘short and sweet’ or ‘long and heavy’. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the little gaps in our schedules or if it’s spaced out between two days. I don’t care.

If I were honest with myself, I’d know that it’s not only the interaction that I crave…but it’s the connection that I miss.

The feeling as if someone finally hears me after months and months of screaming my head off, crying for something…something a little more. The feeling as if someone cares enough to fight for me and fight to be beside me, despite what the rest of the world thinks or says. The feeling as if I am worth everything that I believed would come true back when I was still dancing along with the fairytale theme songs.

If I were honest with myself, I’d know that I am always chasing after something or someone that I think is worth it.

I’m always hoping that a person who made the mistake of doubting me would wake up and realize what they’ve been taking for granted. I’m always dreaming of those fairytale endings where people realize where things went wrong and do everything they can to make things right again. I’m always wishing for things to take another turn and show me that a person who truly cares to be with me would come on back.

But, if I were honest with myself, I’d know that that stuff doesn’t happen to me.

Looking Back, Looking at Now

Looking Back, Looking at Now

Isn’t it interesting how day after day everything seems to be the same, yet when you start to look back you can see how much has really changed?

Ten years ago, I think all I really cared about was how much time I got to spend with my dad, how much I could learn from him. I used to love when something was “our thing”…like when he taught me how to play Chinese checkers or all the times I helped him around the house. Even a simple trip to Home Depot for some gardening dirt probably seemed special in my little brown eyes.

Five years ago, all that mattered was finding a place where I felt like I fit in because home no longer felt like home, and it hadn’t for a long while. And when I couldn’t find a place to call home, I felt like a bird trapped inside a cage waiting to be set free. I felt lost, and I felt as if no one understood what I was going through. I felt like…I knew there was more out there for me than the simple day to day life I was stuck living. I mean, doesn’t every teenager think that? Five years ago, my grades were probably the last thing I cared about. I started getting the lectures about deciding what major I wanted to pursue. I started getting the lectures that pushed me towards the medical field. I started getting the lectures about how I should be grateful for the opportunities I had since my parents didn’t have a choice at my age.

Three years ago, I wanted to be done. I wanted to move out. I wanted to finally see what the world had to offer. I wanted to be a bird set free. And at the end of that year, I wanted to run. It became, not the desire to venture out in the wild but, the need to escape everything that surrounded me. Everything around me just caused me pain and suffering seemed like the only thing I knew how to do.

Two years ago, I was trying to find a career path in which I would excel. I was trying to find a purpose in the mess of a life I was living. I was picking up the pieces of myself and trying to find a place for everything. I found myself learning how to love to myself and every piece of my broken heart. I found myself trying to start fresh once again.

Last year, I decided that I was going to start with a clean slate (or as clean of a slate I could get my hands on). From the town that I grew up in and the town I found myself attending school in for the past few years, I chose to register in a college campus closer to my house. It meant returning to the town I lived in, and the town I was forced to abandon a couple years back, but it also meant that I would have a chance at finding a new name for myself.

Today, I couldn’t be more proud.

White Silence

White Silence

The silence that sounds like a tornado in my head, a million busy bees swarming around in their individual paths, a rain storm hitting a microphone as big as a football field creating the loudest white noise you could ever hear…is back.

I stare out of the library window and silently watch the outsiders walk to their destinations without really seeing them beyond the piece of glass. I stare, almost frozen, my eyes locked on am ambiguous object that is most likely not even registering in my mind. I stare, thinking thoughts I cannot understand, feeling emotions I cannot decipher. I stare, barring the silence of my mind.

Weak Spot

Weak Spot

We all have that particular love whose flame will never burn out. People say it’s your ‘first love’; others say it’s the love that changed you the most. I say, it’s every love that forced you to grow.

Don’t get me wrong, loving them and being in love with them are two different things. Loving them and wanting to be with them are not always correlated. This rings true when I look back and realize how many people I still love.

Khang – We had the most unhealthy relationship I’ve ever experienced, in friendship or in relationship. But, in some twisted way, I had believed we would still make it through. Looking back, I can still say there’s a fire in me that burns for you. I hope you have the best life you deserve. I hope you find true happiness without your demons following in your head. I hope you find forgiveness in your heart and learn to love yourself; you deserve at least that much.

D.J.M. – We were stuck in a fairytale-like honeymoon whose end was inevitable. Somewhere, deep inside, we both knew we were not meant to be but I had wanted to fight for us because it’s in my nature…I fight for what I love. And, in doing so, I hurt us both more than either of us deserved. Being with you shined light on a part of me I hadn’t known was still there. You showed me I am capable of being forgiven and loved once more. Thank you. I hope you find that good Christian good who will be there with you until the end of time.

To both of you, whether it had been under or over a year since I’ve seen you, there will always be a soft spot in my heart for you. It scares the hell out of me, but I know it’s okay.

You see, these particular loves changed me. I learned things about myself I probably wouldn’t have learned elsewhere in such a manner. I got shown things I thought I wouldn’t have seen. I went into each of these relationships a little different and came out of each one of them as someone different.

Whether it had been that I learned that I was truly not alone, living a life I only thought I was going through, or that I learned I was capable of forgiving myself for things I thought I’d never let go, I changed. Now, looking back, I wonder if I had changed them somehow. But, more importantly, I wonder if they’re in a better place in their lives by now.

For those who still hate their ex to the bone, I can’t understand what you go through. I couldn’t imagine looking back at those who hurt me so and have that blackhole of pain still inside me. I have been hurt and my heart has been broken, but I look back and see the young men I had fallen in love with. These of the people we once loved for a reason, the people we wanted to spend the rest of our lives with at a certain point, the people we would do almost anything to spend one more day with to see them laugh and be happy. These are the people who made us feel irreplaceable, the people who gave us strength to face the world when we were down on our knees, the people who loved us to the moon and back. When I remember all the unforgettable memories we had created together, I realize that I wouldn’t regret or take back that love for anything in the world because, in that moment in my life, they meant the world to me and they still are a treasure I hold close to heart.

They are…those loves whose fire will burn for eternity.

Particular