Category Archives: Blog

Being Anti-social

I’m anti-social. Sometimes. Depending on the people and the circumstance and the time and space and the atmosphere.

I’m semi anti-social or partial anti-social. Or maybe 3/4th anti-social. Or maybe 1/4th anti-social. But the point is that I’m anti-social regardless of how non-anti-social I want to be.

I get nervous around people I’m not used to. Unconsciously, I sink into that dark part of my brain that I dread going into because I drown in questions. Like why do you have that scar on your arm? Were you abused? Did you self-harm? Was it an accident? Why do you have that dark look in your eyes? Do you worship the devil? Does the devil worship you? It’s like I want to know everything about everyone. Maybe because it gives me a clear perspective of where I stand. Am I comparing myself to them? Maybe? Or maybe like Einstein, I’m generally curious about everything and everyone. Like why is chlorophyll green? Why are all the other colors absorbed but green reflected? Why freaking Green? Why not purple? Can we time travel if we travel at the speed of light? What is light? Is it just the absence of darkness? 

Got side-tracked: but when I meet new people or old people I’m not used to, I start observing them like test subjects. Experiment vs control- Where I am the control and everyone else is the experiment.  I notice their actions, the way they speak, the way they interact, the way they smile. I don’t know why I do this. Maybe because in my mind I see everyone as a threat and observing them makes the threat lessen. I honestly don’t know why this happens? It’s like my mind goes into this frenzy and then there’s chaos. Maybe there is some deep unconscious trauma that I can’t pinpoint. Maybe I just overthink which ends up making everything worse for myself.

Some people I meet are the kindest ever, yet I go into this mode. And the worst part is people think I’m creepy because I stare at them way too long or they think I’m showing superiority or attitude when honestly all I’m trying to do is make myself approachable and social.

Picture from pexels

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Needing Validation

Why is it that sometimes… no matter how many mountains I climb, or how many oceans I sail, or how many bridges I burn I don’t see myself the way I want to. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to rise to a place where I want to be. It’s like the mountains keep on growing, and day by day I become smaller and smaller.

It’s like I’m stuck in this little plateau and the only thing I can do is jump off it. I could crash, or I could fly. The latter seems more likely. But I am at that point where pain seems like a better option than this feeling of being empty. At least that way I’ll feel something. The numbness creeps up on my skin and takes a hold of my being, making me feel like a hollow body without a soul.

I feel like no matter how many accomplishments I kiss, no matter how many victories I embrace, I won’t ever be satisfied because my heart is not content. I feel like I need validation from people close to me like a child in preschool needs validation from a teacher. I need the people around me to tell me I’m doing a good job because that’s the only way I’ll be convinced. I need people to tell me I’m good for me to believe it, which is bad because when I don’t get the validation I plunge into this hole of self-doubt.

I can look in the mirror and chant, “I’m amazing. I’m beautiful. I’m awesome,” day and night, but I won’t believe it, not until someone comes and tells me those things. The people around me don’t realize but their words have a huge impact on me. Sometimes their words hit like knives and bullets and sometimes they act as a salve. Even the tiniest gesture or a simple sentence could hit like a bomb and I would find myself thinking about it for the next eon.

A person could come and tell me I’m a psychopath and I would believe them because my brain is wired to listen to the outside voices, rather than the voices in my head. This is one of the most toxic traits you can have because it leads directly toward self-destruction and that’s the one thing I’m good at. Destroying myself. The worst form of abuse is the one that comes from within because at the moment you become your biggest enemy and there’s nowhere to run.

If someone told me I was ugly, I would agree with them and I would feel uncomfortable in my own skin and if someone told me I was beautiful, I would make myself believe that I’m worthy of being on the cover of Vogue magazine. Sounds stupid. I know.

Imagine having a computer and you need to reset it or fix it. The first thing you’ll need to do is turn it off, then take out the wires, untangle them and plug them back in. You might even have to reboot it. It takes effort and time, and fear that your ‘useful’ information will be lost with all the useless information.
That’s how rewiring your brain is like. You have to detangle yourself and, in the process, you might even cause more damage, but the best thing is that every form of damage is reversible and curable.

Rewiring your brain is hard. It’s not, ‘oh let me shut my brain off and turn it back on like a computer.’ It’s more of ‘oh shit, this was wrong’ or ‘oh snap I should’ve done that,’ but that’s how you learn. That’s how you progress. That’s how you break bad habits, by replacing them with good ones.

I’m working on myself, by making amends and filling in holes that I have because I was too busy doubting myself. Too busy looking for someone else’s approval. I’ve started listening to that soft voice in the back of my head now. It’s not always nice, but it’s there… dim… and barely audible.

I want to be you…

I want to be you….

I want to have your hair, your body, your job, your lifestyle. I want to be everything you are or everything you’re pretending to be. Can we exchange lives for a day or two or maybe forever? You could try to be me, and I’ll perfectly fit into your shoes like Cinderella.

Maybe then you’ll see how the demons I fight with swords of hope are crashing into my mind causing havoc worse than earthquakes. Maybe then you’ll realize that these fake smiles as wide as the horizon are carved with knives of anger. Maybe just maybe you’ll understand that the way I am is because I’m broken into so many different pieces that I can’t seem to glue them back together. And the worst part is that I don’t know what part of me is the original one.

When you’re bouncing between opinions and advice of other people, who think they know more than you…you become lost in this sea of voices that your own voice becomes so dim that it refuses to speak to you.

I want to be you because I envy that voice speaking to you. I want my voice back, but where do I search for it when it’s lost in between this sea of people. Where do I look for myself when I’ve become blind? How do I open my eyes when they’re sealed shut with glue as thick as metal?

I’m not asking for enchanted castles or showers of gold or status’s as big as the sky. All I’m asking for is self-acceptance and I don’t know where to find that. Does it grow on trees? Can I purchase it from Amazon? Would it miraculously fall from the sky? Maybe I can steal it from someone because I’m that desperate.

But NO.

Self-acceptance is something that I need to yank out of myself. I need to dig in deep. Carve out memories… break taboos… tear my insides and drain out all this negativity. Self-acceptance is understanding that you’re imperfect and that is what makes you perfect. Beauty is when you look into the mirror confidently and say, “I Love you just the way you are and there is nothing in the entire world that will make me want to change that.” It’s when you breathe a sigh of relief because you’re content. It’s when that tiny part of your soul is at ease.

Self-acceptance is when those voices in your head are kinder to you than the people around you. It’s when love reflects from you because you’re filled with it.

Photo by Ismael Sanchez from Pexels

Life is a rat-race

Why is it that we get so trapped in this rat-race of life that we forget the beauty of living? Why is it so hard to just be happy? Maybe because at a young age we’re taught that if we don’t run fast enough, the world will leave us behind. But what’s so bad about that? If being left behind means you’re happy then why is that an issue? Why is being ahead of the race so much more important than being satisfied? Why are we all at war with one another when our end goal is to be happy… to be content?

The crossing line we’re all trying to reach is like the horizon. It’s unattainable. No matter how fast we all run, no matter how much effort we put into our legs, we won’t ever reach that horizon, then what’s the point of making ourselves miserable?

We all have our own journeys, our own pathways and our own pace of running. Love, it’s time to screw the world and everything in it and live for yourself. Because what is gone won’t ever come back again.

-Words I say to myself every day

Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh from Pexels

Will it actually be okay?

“It’s okay.”
“It’ll be alright.”

Your lips are moving but your words aren’t reaching me. I’m trying so hard to grasp onto the letters spewing out of your mouth, but they slip from between my ears like sand does in a closed palm. I can’t comprehend what you’re saying. Don’t raise your voice, it’ll only make me deaf.

The words your chanting have stopped making sense to me and the demons rioting in my mind are taking control. They’re harsh words make more sense, then your sugar-coated lies. Those demons are so loud that I can hear them scream like they’re standing next to me.

“Nothing will ever be okay”
“Look at yourself. You’re all sorts of fucked-up…”

Yes!
I find myself agreeing and repeating those same words to myself, saying them over and over again in my mind. The vapor of hope, I was holding close to my chest, vanishes and I find myself being molested by despair. I cry and scream but no one seems to hear. And it feels as if everything coming out of my mouth is a sin. Maybe I deserve all this. Maybe I should be punished. I’m already ruined, I’ll ruin everyone else around me too. I feel like a weed growing among roses, which needs to be pulled out or it’ll ruin the beauty of everything else.

I’ve come to the point where I’ve stopped yelling at those voices in my head. I’ve stopped fighting them because, in the end, I’m the one who gets stabbed. I curl into a ball and pull the covers over myself in an attempt to hide, but I can’t seem to do that. The more I try to conceal myself the more visible I become.

No matter where I go, I can’t hide myself from me. I can’t run away from what I am. From what I don’t want to be. This self-inflicted war makes my chest tight and it aches so bad that even inhaling hurts. How can I fight the world, when the war I’m fighting is taking place in my head? How can I win, when the person I’m fighting is me?

It’s hard to see the good in things when you’re blinded by grief. It’s hard to be positive when you’ve grown up in negativity. But I guess that’s what life is. It’s a war and you’re a soldier. It’s a dictator and you’re a rebel and rebels don’t give up. Rebels never give up. You’re brave, not because you’ve always won but because you’ve chosen to rise after every fall. Warriors don’t give up. No matter how brutal the voices become, no matter how bloody the battlefield gets. You’re strong because you’re here, torn, messed up, broken. But you’re here and that’s all that matters.