I Will Not Abandon You



I wish I could say the person typing this is very much changed. But despite the fact I always envy the ones that concoct something for the new years, the one who usually feels nothing utterly different when the clock strikes 12 thinks it’s utter bullshit. Perhaps because I’m never a part of it.

Don’t get me wrong. I try to be optimistic but I’ve learned to worry and fret over bettering myself as a day a day thing. Not a year to year event.

My attempt at forcing myself back to here, one of my homes, was not because of a failed attempt at a new year resolution. But rather an affirmation. As well as a reminder to myself.

Despite the fact that I’m doing well (except of course having the flu), working at my new job and not dreading the next day, I’ve been losing my support. Not quite literally, but very physically. My mother on Monday is leaving for a month to visit my grandparents who aren’t well, halfway across the world. She’s terrified since she still feels guilty because the last time she left, I vanished for 2 years. She and I both know it’s not her fault. However, she has been my rock. And she does know that.

And just like last time, when I was 16 I could not say no when she asked if I were alright if she went. Even though I kept reassuring myself that I was different and my dad was different, I was surprised that just like last time I didn’t hesitate. Where does my confidence even come from…

Although, that wasn’t the point. It was alright, I had a home counselor now and therapist I met weekly. I had my job to keep me busy so I thought that just like I was different, I also had a support system that had come into existence since last time.

I didn’t wish to believe I felt the instability of them the last few months. For my job, I was unable to give time to my therapist to meet. Soon, it would become one week, then two weeks till I would meet her. Maybe more. Before the christmas break, my case manager dropped contact with me and it started to also become weeks since I heard from her. My sister was once again absorbed with her new relationship and even when she came to visit it was hard to get her attention. Now that she’s gone back to her college with her boyfriend, I know it’s not fair when she’s so emotionally involved with him. All her energy would be gone by the time she would get to me. So I knew not to have any expectations with her.

Even though I knew my fear was irrational. In fact, they were still there for me. Exactly, where they usually are. I have no excuses. I have to depend on myself. I may have been a vulnerable 16 year old girl who had unresolved issues then, but I’m an 18 year old woman who has been fighting everyday, struggling to get better for the past few years. I have not only aged by number but grown as a person.

But depending versus knowing someone’s there for you are very different things. No matter how much I comfort myself, I still fill this pit at the bottom of my stomach. I remember that a month can be a very long time.


When All You Know is Heaven


I was watching another one of countless plots unfold. I was surprised the first thing I judged was not ungrateful but rather, I understand her.

A girl was living in the mountains, in a small village, with only her grandmother. In other words, the movie depicted her life and home a mortal paradise. Far away from chaos and tragic that existed surrounding them. Then again, it did not mean it was a complete paradise for her. She was happy yes but there were those petty bullies and strict words from her grandmother, who rarely showed her how much she truly loved her. But it soon shows, when she leaves the protection of the village to venture out for her own life, she becomes enveloped in struggles. Eventually her definition of heaven when others later ask, is the old home she used to live in.

Often we are naive to say, all we want is to be happy. Yet, the first mistake I see is when the people that may possibly be the happiest…seek out what soons to be the very problems that destroy them. It is a little dramatic for my taste but the concept stood true. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so quick to understand before, but I can’t help but quickly agree now after going through my set of challenges. I would not be so appreciative and truly happy, if I were happy forever.

It’s sad to think people that have only known happiness and are for their whole life, will never truly understand happiness. Which is why everyone goes through hardships, tragedy, and pain. Because it only makes the aftertaste that much sweeter.

You will be happy. You are happy. But you can also be sad. And you will be sad. But as both are necessary and important, the irony is you need both to have a good life that you value.

At first instead of value I was going to write “don’t regret” but who are we kidding, at one point everyone regrets.


Mornings Awake

beautiful-girl-love-photography-favim-com-601760I feel content. And for it, I rack my brain harder in the search of inspiration. I do not know what to write. This might be another one of the countless attempts I’ve made this morning where I begin with a few words, delete, type again, and go back to thinking harder.

All I can think of, is how grateful I am. I have this tiny ritual. It’s random and quite sporadic. Whenever I feel a little extra anything…thankful, sentimental, or even giddy, I would clasp my hands together, close my eyes, and speak. To this day I’m still not sure to whom I speak the words to. But the habit of just putting those words out there, out of my control into the world surprisingly makes me feel rather more powerful. It’s as if I can physically feel my heart expanding. That is the only high I need. For now at least… 😉

Changed Days


Gaining perspective somehow became the light but as well as the bane of my existence. It’s a burden yet an enlightening.

I can no longer imagine my life, or even me before the pain, the tears, and the words on here. However, I don’t discount the importance of the growth, the smiles, and strong bonds that developed as well.

My days once again have become nights, and my nights have become days again. There was fear as I once again seeked comfort on my own quirky, nocturnal schedule. But I was soon able to console myself. The me now, was different. And the nights being awake were definitely different from before.

I was no longer consumed with “nothing” as I used to scroll through random pages with my eyes forced open as if a zombie. My emotions that were so shallow for the lack of not wanting to feel, I could definitely feel an almost content or even happy feeling now lingering in my subconscious. It could be me just feeling okay but rather I think it’s from the confidence. The confidence in the emotion of feeling alright. Now if I could only stop making my bed so often. Sleep can only keep me busy for so long.

A Prison Of Our Own Making

It’s been three weeks since I took a break from my blog. I guess it was my retaliation against life for once again taking a break on me without my will. Because just as the last time, I was stumped. You would’ve thought I would have learned by now.

The uncertainty of what the future held for me swallowed me whole again. Even though I knew what I had to do, for some reason I was choosing not to do it. But then I realized, no I was doing it. However I was being sentenced into the waiting period. The wait till the world responded back, “come join us again.”


During that wait I came across something. It was bound to happen with the immense amount of shows I’ve been binging on.

“I’m in a prison made by me, individualized with what I chose to imprison myself with. No one put me there and no one will take me out of there. Only by my own will can I get out.”

It got me thinking about how I’ve rarely ever expressed happiness in writing. For a person who represents to the outside world as a happy symbol, I had forgotten to how much sorrow and pain I symbolized here. I was thinking of how when I would be 99 years old one day (fingers crossed) I would read my writing and think back to how I was such a sad child. I would reminisce my horrible life. Although in reality, it was not. I have had days where I’ve been happy. I just unfortunately haven’t shared it on here.

To me happiness is something so physical and mentally felt in the moment. It’s the smiles, the affection, the touch, and senses that are alive that second.

But the irony is I do still gain comfort here. A content feeling that is  a different version of inexplicable happiness. Not the usual high of being on cloud nine, but more like ah now I think I can truly rest now. It’s the calm after the adrenaline rush.

And I forgot how much I was torturing myself as I convinced myself away from here. Because a month ago, the little bouts of sadness among the happiness held importance. The endless feelings of sadness and depression over a length of time just became a sameness. Insignificant. What I felt now didn’t seem to hold any importance.

The original vigor before when I thought I had the right to be angry and frustrated was gone. I felt as if I lost the right to just throw in the towel and say

“I’m done trying. If you want me in your life, let me know. Bye.”

During this wait, I’ve been terrified. I have singularly blamed and hated the uncertainty to the whole situation. I would soon miss and start to realize the importance of a routine. Before, waking up at 7 am and thinking ugh I have to go to work would often make me frustrated and sad because I felt as if I had no choice. However for 2 years while I was bedridden…for the first time I experienced waking up to nothing. Completely and utterly nothing. I wondered, why do I even need to wake up? Can I just not wake up at all?

I miss routine, but I need to learn how to embrace uncertainty as well. To learn the balance of being grateful for both, a routine to wake up to yet to not give a crap because there might not even be a tomorrow.

Nothing makes sense here.

In the end though it all comes down to a simple feeling. I just feel so left out of my own freaking life.



Fuck Everyone

I don’t curse but there are nights like these… where I start wanting to.


Everything was fine. In fact, they were great. It was a day where so much was happening that I was high from it all. The music, the people and just the mere idea of doing something fun.

But then without realizing, they were subtle, there were things happening throughout the day that were pulling at you like a string almost getting taut. You feel the anxiety building up but because your head is still in cloud nine, you’re still okay. Till something at the end, at night right before sleep takes over, it takes one random word for you to snap. And now suddenly everything becomes relevant to each other.

Today was good, within all its crap.

But I still want to cry. I want to scream. And I want to tell everyone to fuck themselves because of how much full of bullshit everyone seems to be.

I keep telling myself to accept the fact that maybe I’m not meant for relationships. And when I say relationships, I don’t mean the first thing that comes into your mind, a man and a woman. I mean all types. Every god damn type. I don’t know what I do. Everyone speaks of how I’m nice, in fact too nice. I get along with everyone. However in the end, I still end up with people that screw me over. That don’t genuinely want good things for me. If I move on from one toxic person, then comes the next. The funny thing is, it’s everyone and happens each and every time.

I’m not needy. I express myself openly, wearing my heart on my sleeve. I can’t change it. I don’t want to change it. But is that why they want to fuck with me? The reason why they don’t want me to be happy? I’m not asking them to do anything special. All I want is someone to be genuine as I am with them. To not have bad intentions against me. I just want a goddamn innocent relationship where I’m not scared to be fucked over.

I look back at the words that took over me in anger last night. Now, there is only simply a calmness within me. I am at peace. These words resonated within me as my sister soothed me,

“In reality, no one is out there specifically with the goal to destroy you. They are only after themselves.”


Making Fireworks

“If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call it forth its riches.” | Rainer Maria Rilke


I’ve been ungrateful and selfish. Mean and hateful. Just worse and worser (even though there’s no such word).

When I should have been thankful for all that I had achieved, like every other human I looked towards what I didn’t have. It wasn’t ahead but it was next to me. And I knew this was how people fell into a constant. When we began to compare.

However today without comparison, I felt my own self-worth being questioned. I wavered. But I was wrong to doubt. I was not the problem. I’m ever changing but I am also a rock in which I hold a stability in how I much I have and do offer. It’s everyone else around us. Rather I’m not placing blame but accepting that there are so many variables around us. So, when the result isn’t what I expect…I have to understand it was not my fault. I can just choose to do better. I can choose to make what I didn’t expect, somehow matter.



Is this how it feels to be the right one? The right girl to marry. The one to commit to. The one he chose to have a life with. Is she supposed to feel unloved because of it?

If I’m supposed to be happy to be chosen, instead why do I feel like I’m not worthy of love?

But they tell me it’s alright. Just because he didn’t choose you first, it okay as long as you’re his last choice. No one even ends up with their first love for god’s sake. You’re the type guys want to marry.

However, I don’t even think they realize the words that come out of their lips like tendrils of smoke, poisonous and toxic. Marriage does not equal love. Neither love or marriage are a guaranteed product of one another. Even though I may be the “chosen” one for whatever man that enters my life in the future, but I have witnessed the disasters of marriage. It’s effects of slow torture towards a sad and lonely demise. If my parents could be victims, so can I. If they can be survivors, so can I. The question is whether or not if I want to be.

And I know. I know that I do not want to live life to be the “right” one for someone. I want to live it being “loved” by another. Because being “right” was not enough to console my mothers tears at night. Being “right” did not mean she was treated as such.

I only wish to have the memories of being once loved as consolation at least, if my future marriage ever painfully heads toward obliteration. Maybe that will be enough…

Enough to comfort me when I’m alone at night.


Pain & Hunger


“It’s late right now but I’ll watch it in the morning

Also I’m kinda missing you right now

I had a really good day but I don’t know, I kinda wish we could hang out.”

I woke out of the warmth of my bed, to see those words in a text greeting me on my lock screen. It was like for a second the sun gleaned through the cloudy day and the next second it was like a cold bucket of ice thrown over me. I shook my head, waking myself out of the daze I call sleep and tried to ignore what I just saw. I think my sister sent the text to the wrong person.

It wasn’t a big deal, I thought as I spooned my cereal with strawberry’s into my mouth. I’ll play it off. I’ll text back that I was pretty sure she meant to send that to a guy.

“Have you and your sister not talked in a while?” my mother asked. The question was random. I continued to put my head through the top of my shirt pretty sure that she had looked through my texts on my lock screen. We had just talked about this yesterday. Privacy. Instead I turned to her and said, “No, we just talked a little here and there. It’s okay. We’re just both busy.” I hadn’t lied. I was saying the complete truth. I had never felt this okay with our lack of contact. Maybe because we had a healthier relationship…

I looked back at the screen as the bus was rolling away from another stop. I finally typed back a response.

“Why do I feel like you sent this to the wrong person? 😉 I miss you too”

No response. Again it’s alright. She’s a college student. She shouldn’t be even awake at 8 am in the first place.

Then why am I here, with my hands freezing cold still feeling awkward. I don’t hear the words “I miss you” often from her. In fact I’ve realized I don’t hear it often period. I’m always the one to express my emotions first with people I truly care about. With strangers I’m often the last. So hearing the words I often repeat like a prayer, said back to me with the same nonchalance I say it in…shocked me.

I was thankful that I was hearing it at least now. But it was a big deal. Feeling appreciated was a big deal for me. It shouldn’t be but I realize now that it is. I don’t want to say it’s because I haven’t been appreciated all this time but even I have to admit that it was partially because the people around me don’t show or express their affection or love to me at all really while in comparison I do more than usual people.

So I’m deprived and hungry. For love and appreciation. And those words from the text…I ate them up as if they were my first meal in years. Although I’m still not letting my guard down. Because the minute I do accept those words completely, the text will come. And it will say that those words were for another one.



She texted back and her reason was that it’s the time of the month. So she’s emotional.



Tedious Days


Ironic isn’t it. When you create something out of goodwill in the past, that creation leads you into a trap of its own in the present. One you made for yourself without even realizing. So this is what it feels like to be back stabbed. Currently being betrayed by my past self sucks. Who knew it would make me rethink everything.