Therapeutic Misery

I rarely write nowadays. I’m already in 3rd year so why would I still expect I’ll still have time to write my thoughts and feelings? I almost abandoned my journal, and I feel bad about it.

The reason why I am in the mood to write now because I am not in the mood to review for my test for my Political System class. Who can even study when one has a heavy heart? No, no man has broken my heart, because there really isn’t a guy existing to be worthily called as my ‘boyfriend’.

There you go. Bitter thoughts and words have managed to pass. I always try to live a positive life but I fail.

Am I even living?

Real talk, people. No shits.

Pain is Pleasure

It’s been years since I started to feel empty. Right now, I feel like an empty can being kicked around. Empty hearted. I feel like a book no one has ever find an interest to open nor just read the summary. Under the genre of does-this-even-exist? books. I try to feel emotions but pain overpowers everything.

My heart will contract, and I find pleasure in that kind of pain.

I cry to feel it. I badly want to feel pain because this is a reminder to myself that I am still breathing. I cry not because I am sad, but because all of my emotions are mixed up. No, I don’t blame premenstrual syndrome and my hormonal imbalance because I really know that there is wrong with me.

 

The Hardest Ever

The hardest question I have ever heard in my life is ‘What makes you happy?’ It even exceeds the level of difficulty of the Philippine Foreign Service Officer Exam, which is known to be the hardest exam in this country. I am always scared to answer this question because probably later on that thing might not be the one that will make me happy. I envy all those people who are happy, because they are contented and they know they are alive and living because of that something that makes them happy. I am not contented, to be honest, and I don’t know why I am not contented. I feel like there is something missing in my life, the thing is, I don’t know, and it scares me.

Another question is ‘How are you?’ I find it hard to answer because I am on auto-pilot and say ‘I’m ok.’ or ‘I’m fine.’ or ‘Good.’ As flat as a table. Then another difficult question is the one that follows it: ‘That’s it? What’s new?’

To be honest, there’s nothing new in my life. If you ask me that everyday I’ll give you the same answer. I know a lot of people will expect great stories from me because I am an adventurous person (that’s what they said) and most probably I’ll have a new story everyday. C’mon, I live a boring life. I sleep, eat, exist. That’s all. What else do you want?

Last of the hardest question ever list is ‘Are you ok?’ I know every one says this without meaning it. I always get annoyed when my mother will probe on my day because I don’t have anything to answer and I know she is expecting something spectacular that happened to my day. I always say I am ok, but to be honest I don’t feel right. Ever since.

 

Stop Existing, Start Living

I told one of my friends my matter, then she told me that I am dead inside. Right, I am. And pain is the only thing that resurrects me. Right now, as I am typing these words, I tell myself I am fed up of feeling pain. I keep on saying ‘life, give me a surprise’ but nothing appears. The worst part, I am impatient. I want a huge change, ’cause that’s the time I’ll see the difference. 

I think all I need is love. Sounds cliché but true. I know most, if not all, of you will tell me this. The thing is I don’t know what kind of love. If it is a romantic kind of love, slap me. Slap me real hard because I keep on thinking I won’t ever get into a romantic relationship. Enough with this shit.

Right now I try my best to live, not just exist but live. The thing is, I don’t know how. I am not expecting anyone to write ‘Living for Dummies’ or whatever. I know I have to figure out myself. They say you can find yourself and your purpose when you’re alone. I’m always alone but why does these miseries accompany me?

 

I just realized I’m now one of the troubled teens. People see me as a tough girl, I don’t breakdown. But in reality, I am hollow. I am still looking for that missing thing that can fill me and make me whole. That happiness, that meaning. 

For now, I’ll let pain pull me through.

 

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