emotional recuperation.

In recent weeks (months?) I understand that I've been in a state that has been somewhat less stable than normal, flip-flopping between ridiculously happy and oddly down. Not that I haven't always been a little bipolar- I get that from my father- but my emotional state as of late has been, to quote a friend, "jarring", and actually scary. Through this, I have probably succeeded in alienating many of those closest to me, pushing people away when I could have asked them for help.

I am not justifying my actions or moods with this post, seeing as it would not do me any good. Many of the people who might have been affected by the emotional spillover do not have a link to this blog, and those that do might not even be reading. If I wished to say this to people, some of which who I do wish to tell over messaging or in person, I would request to meet up with them. (Which, for the matter, I do, so if you're keen on this any time soon Xun we should go for bubble tea. Just you and me; I feel like I owe you what is probably the biggest explanation of all.) However, a large reason why I never asked for any emotional support was because there was one principle which I had managed to hold onto: the only person that could help me out of this rut was myself.  No matter how much ranting or venting I subjected a certain friend to, nothing seemed to help, to the point where she started to question whether there was anything that she could do to help and whether our friendship was doing either of us any good.

Again I reiterate that I do not talk about my feelings because I am almost incapable of doing so, not without turning into a blubbering, crying mess. There is apparently emotional spillage, and my body language dictates that I might not be feeling at my best even if I try to act like I am. It is not usually a lack of trust that does this, and I can't expect people to understand that. However if it helps I will try to communicate it if I am not in the best of moods instead of pretending to be my usual chipper self. I understand that a lot of the time, I try to portray myself as this sunshiny being who doesn't see anything wrong, but that's really not who I am. Not all the time, at least. There is a reason I relate to Terezi and Dave rather than Jade and Feferi; I know what it's like to miss Vriska, and I know what it's like to put up an image to hide what I really am. That aside, though, I don't plan on licking things to try and see them, and neither do I plan on turning into a white rapper any time soon. But I'm digressing here.

I suppose I'm going to start being myself more, whatever 'myself' really is. Sure, without the sunshiny orange-ness, it's arguable that there's nothing spectacular about who I am, but at the same time there are other parts of my personality that can contribute to a relationship, or to progressing in life. Frankly speaking putting up a front has been getting more and more tiring as of late, especially when I really didn't feel that way myself. Not that I'm not still  cheery and happy, but let's face it- you can't blame people for thinking I'm a manic pixie dream girl, not with the way I act. You can't blame them for thinking that I'm air-headed, or worse, a liar. Which I was (which I am), to be completely honest. The latter, I mean. But quite frankly speaking I've hit a point where I find myself buying orange things simply because they're orange, not even because I really want them. I still like orange, but I'm tired of using the colour as a shield for what I really want and what I really am.

It's for these reasons that I'm buying the Time hoodie instead of the Light. I always wanted the Time hoodie more, anyway. I just felt obligated to get the orange but frankly speaking, I like Dave just that little bit better. Sorry Vriska ):

Wow, if anyone's still reading, and they don't know Homestuck, I'm really very sorry.

Actually, I lied. I'm not. 8D

While we're at this, I'll also come out and say that I've recently developed a liking for the colour teal. You can quote me on this. I don't care about that as much as I pretend to, for the record. It's easy for me to keysmash when I'm writing and to spew a bunch of bullshit about how orange is the BEST THING EVER OMGUH but at the same time, it's become so much of a mask that I'm starting to resent the colour, just a little bit- I'm not always bouncy and cheery, and I know I'm not fooling anyone even if a lot of the time I act like rainbows are spewing out my ass. Or at least, I try to.

I've probably digressed from the original point, so I'll get back to it now.

As I've stated earlier, I know that I might have pushed people away in the process, people who could have been, or that were once good friends. While it does sadden me to think of that, the point remains that the past is the past. I apologise if I have said or done anyone any ill, and if you have been so stunned by this sudden change in my mental state that you feel it best not to continue your friendship with me any more, so be it. I can't change your mind, and I won't try to. It's sad, but every action has a consequence and all I can do is accept these.

There's no way to look but forward.

Emotions don't change overnight. However, realisations can occur and while I've been alone in Cambridge for a whole... 5 hours- while I've been alone here it hit me that I had been so caught up in hating people, hating law that I lost sight of the principles I always used to guide my life. Never have I been so caught up in self-pity since I was fifteen, and frankly speaking I'm a little disgusted at myself. But hey. No sense being disgusted, right? Not when I've got the rest of my future to look forward to, and the rest of my life to live with these principles in mind. I've got to keep moving forward, start being happy again, but I goddamn can't very well force it. However, what I can do is to step back, and smell the roses, and be glad for what I have; life's been really good to me so why should I fight what I've been given? I'm strong enough to bounce back from being hurt so why do I keep up these walls? It's not like backstabbing, betrayal, or leaving me affects me that much any more (re: the Kenny situation). If I don't believe that I have the inner strength to crawl back from anything that's gone wrong, I'll never be able to garner it. So I'm not going to say I'll try, but I will.

It's strange that these lessons took me a whole three years to learn, but hey. Everything happens for a reason. I'm pretty certain that while these three years haven't been easy, I've come out a better person. Or at least, I plan to. When one door shuts behind you, another opens. It's your choice whether you want to walk through them or not. And I'm tired of sitting at the crossroads, waiting for something to come by.

I'm going to walk there myself. Feel free to follow me through.



Normal service should resume in a few days' time.

You win some, you lose some. But twice in a day? OUCH.

these photographs

That moment where you're half-expecting someone to let you down, and then they don't.

I know this is juvenile and still a little silly, but it makes me smile every time I remember that these friendships are real.

- 65

gravity

I can't believe I almost lost sight of what makes me happy, what makes me who I am, and how I got there in the first place.

Thank you, good miss, for kicking my ass back into gear. I can hardly deny that I needed it.

but then again, the battle's actually yours to fight! and you have to remember-

these things will only kill you if you let them. 

- 69

light me up when i'm down.

I can't help but be jealous of people who have the time and energy to spend on doing things that they love.

I hate being this tired all the time, and can't wait until this is all over. Never in my life have I felt so spent, so drained of energy; I hate the fact that I've given up everything for something that I don't even want. That I never even wanted in the first place, even though I keep convincing myself that I made the right choice based on common sense. But then again, fuck common sense. Seriously, since when did that shit do me any good in the first place?

I've always acted on instinct and will and being forced to rein my impulses in is a feeling that I don't quite know how to describe, but everything now seems routine. Forced. I can't even say I enjoy the company of people I love any more, not as much as I used to at least, simply because I constantly feel like I have to be happy and cheery. Strip that away from me, and you've honestly got nothing. Well, bitter thoughts and years of pent-up cynicism, but then again who really needs to know that? I'd be a boring individual if that was all there was to me. Frankly speaking that's what I'm most afraid of turning into and yet it seems to become more real with every passing moment. I'd be no fun. And that's my selling point as a friend, isn't it? I'm the fun one, the cheery one, the quirky weird one that does her own damn thing when she wants, where she wants.

Even the thought of freedom seems so distant, and not something I can derive any sort of happiness from.

All the little victories I've been feeling as of late seem to dwindle away in a matter of seconds. Nothing seems to complete me any more, and I'm faced with the daunting reality that while this will all be over soon a part of it will always be carried with me. While one might argue otherwise, I don't believe this has turned me into a better person. Someone who knows how to act better in public, maybe. I've become better at keeping up appearances and at holding back my thoughts. Definitely skills I'll need out there in the real world, but then again, is it worth all the resentment that's built up as of late?

I can't even say who I resent- nobody here is to blame, so I channel it within myself. There are all these little horrible things about me that I can't help but hate, the jealousy and possessiveness and just the fucking jealousy that never seemed to rear its ugly head. But then again you can argue that it's only as of late that I've been able to truly care about people once again, and sometimes while it's worth it sometimes it fucking hurts. Sometimes it's tempting to return to the numbness and selfishness of me in my first year. Caring for someone is, more often than not, a conscious choice for me. I decide whether the person is worth giving two fucks about and withdraw if I decide they aren't, even though I can appear to on the surface, and way back then I can honestly say that there was one person I truly cared about in my university circles. Maybe it's worth flitting from person to person and place to place, using the temporary high from my adventures and escapades to fill in the emptiness that was true attachment deep down. At least I was happy. More often than not I wonder whether it was a good trade-off, though I understand that human relationships are often so much more tangible than tasting experiences, and that this is a choice that is probably for the wiser.

Perhaps in a few years I'll come back and realise that my woes now were so trivial (are so trivial?) but right now, it all feels very daunting and very real. Trivial, yes, but definitely solid, and I can't help but feel as though I shouldn't be feeling this way because of how much else I have going for me. On paper I have everything I ever wanted, and more, but at the same time I just wish that there would be a period of my life where I didn't always feel so...

Empty.

This is why you have to love your job, kids. Hate it and you become a bitter, angry shell of yourself.

70.

urine speaks louder than words

I can write things better than I can ever say them. Which seems oxymoronic, for someone who can talk and talk for hours on end without stopping to catch her breath, but it's true. Even if the thoughts don't stop swimming through my mind, i stumble as soon as my lips part and I try to say them aloud, my mind blanks and I freeze up and then I burst into tears. I can count on one hand the number of times I have said anything heartfelt to my friends here at university, and recall a particularly embarrassing incident where I literally broke down in public, turning into a sobbing, crying, neurotic mess. How disgracefully the stone walls crumble, how disgusting it is to see a warrior fall!

This is what I used to blog for; I'm starting to remember now. Writing my issues out before me was a way for me to comb through them, to acknowledge that they are real. A little reminder to myself that there are still so many idiotic, immature things about myself that need to be fixed even though I have good days where I feel like I can take on the world, a nagging voice at the back of my mind that echoes through, reminding me that I can't always be happy, despite the front I put up. That no matter how many people I have around me, how many friends we have around us, we all walk this world alone; it's our own path to make and perhaps two entwining roads might meet by chance. Yet there's a part of me that can't help but hope that there will be a few people who, while walking different paths from mine, will run into me more often than not; maybe to stop for a casual chat, or motivate each other to get through the tough times. I don't believe in togetherness as I do in companionship, and there's a big difference between alone and lonely, and I can't help but wish that one day I can speak the words...