13 February 2012
I love my family.
12:02 AM
12 February 2012
So here's what I know now.
Things that I should've known.
Things that I forget.
But no longer.
Yesterday was one of the most uplifting days of my life.
It just took that one lunch to help me through these next few treacherous months.
For me to realize that answers don't come with 18.
Comfort doesn't come with 18.
Changes don't radically occur with 18.
Confidence doesn't build up with 18.
Courage doesn't just happen.
I've been living in this little constricted bubble where I keep telling myself that the whole world's against me.
And perhaps a big part of it is.
But I forget so easily that there's that other part.
Of people who appreciate me no matter what I am.
Preconceived notions aside, these are the very people who, as much as I don't open myself up to much, are the very people who care.
In their own, subtle, strange ways.
Raging against the machine.
That's what I've been doing.
It explains the hell-hole that I've kept myself in all these years.
My self-consumed delusion that everyone's pointing at me and laughing at my expense.
I've been so self-conscious, so insecure.
And while it's understandable.
It's no longer right.
It's never been helpful, never been healthy.
And I'm a fool to let all of that define who I am.
Because no one else can define.
1. Who I am.
2. Who I can be.
3. What I can offer.
I have to get it out of my mind.
The self-inflicted nightmare that I'm the victim.
Because I've been told that I have drive.
And that I have so much of it.
And that this should only serve to drive me further.
Life's shit.
And I have to deal with it.
Deal with it instead of whining about trying to hope it moves along faster.
Instead of endlessly hoping that school would just end already.
Because the end of one suffering doesn't mean the end of it forever.
It doesn't mean that after JC, all my problems will be solved.
Because it most probably won't.
And if the only place that the problem exists is in my mind.
Then I'm the only person who can stop it.
I'm going to free myself.
Let go of my insecurities.
Leave the belief that somewhere in the corner, someone's talking about me.
It may be true.
But it's not always true.
And even so.
It doesn't matter.
Especially when I have people who love me.
If one person's enough to amount to something.
To mean something.
Anything.
Then nothing else matters.
And I know.
I just know that I have at least one person.
It gets better.
And I'm going to make it better.
So.
I should be okay.
I'm going to be okay.
I'm okay.
Thank you for lunch.
7:15 PM
08 February 2012
Hihi.
That's what you say, right?
Right.
I am uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
You know.
We all talk about other people, right?
Be it gossip or just a simple observation.
We have said something about another person.
I'm guilty of that.
Sure.
I say the nastiest of things about some people at times.
And other times I say nice things.
But you get the point.
Everyone talks about everyone.
But.
You see.
My itch with that is that...
When I do talk bad about someone else.
I have the courtesy of not saying it to the person's face.
Behind the person's back, sure.
But not literally behind the person's back.
Yeah, that sounds super hypocritical of me.
Blahblahblah.
But if you've gone through as much as I have and heard as much as I shouldn't have.
Then you'd understand.
Sure, we say things like if you've got something to say, say it to my face.
Or if you've got nothing nice to say, don't say it at all.
I agree with both.
Somehow I do.
But here's the catch:
Don't fucking talk shit about me when I'm a earshot away.
How fucking deaf do you think I am that I can't hear your words when I'm just three steps away from you?
And you're clearly looking my way and throwing fucking shade.
How the heck am I not supposed to notice that kind of shit?
It's pathetic, it's cowardly but mostly it's just mean.
Sure, call me gay.
At this point, I'm not sure why that still irks me.
It shouldn't.
Wait, no.
Actually it's not that I'm called gay.
I'm okay with that.
It's...
Fundamentally.
It's about the lack of tact.
The lack of consideration that you have when you insult and humiliate someone.
It's that by calling me gay under your breath, (despite my acceptance that being called "gay" is nothing bad) it implies that you mean it in a negative way and therefore your intention is to humiliate me.
You don't even have the balls to say it to my face and you call me the gay one?
How backwards are you?
Are you so insecure in your own sexuality that you have to poke fun at mine just to make yourself feel better?
What are you trying to make up for?
How fucking short your dick is?
What?
Because I don't understand people like you.
I really don't.
I don't see how it's rational to even think of poking fun at someone who's never ever wronged you.
It's just wrong.
And as much as I don't want to understand why your kind exists.
And why it exists in large numbers.
I need to.
I need to understand why my life and the lives of many have been unruly plagued by the likes of you.
I figure that since you don't and won't ever understand me, I'd perhaps take a shot at understanding you instead.
So that I can finally find it within myself to forgive you and your currently meaningless existence.
10:44 PM
02 February 2012
I'm taking a stand.
Or at least I've been making a stand.
Because I feel that if I take a stand, than that means I'm at least not a coward.
Holding on to what I believe in.
I really can't stand homophobic people.
Or any kind of people who discriminate other people for being different.
That's such a jacked up way of thinking.
Like.
Really fucked up.
It makes me so uncomfortable being around bigots.
Narrow-minded idiots who think that the world revolves around them.
I mean, sure.
To each his own.
But I don't think it should come to the point where you infringe upon another's comfort.
It just infuriates me.
I know this ignorant homophobe.
I see him everyday.
I am in his presence 5 days a week.
And it makes me want to throw up every little bit of my insides just thinking about him.
Whenever he's near, my skin starts crawling and I can't help but feel like tearing it all off.
I feel disgusting and disgusted.
He juvenile.
And he's so full of himself.
Fuck it.
Why am I even tainting this blog with shit about him?
He's not even worth the thought.
Let's get back to what I was talking about in the beginning.
I'm taking a stand.
I dislike him.
I detest him.
I won't wish him bad things.
But I most certainly won't ever wish him happiness.
But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is this.
It's that there seems to be this silent rift between me and my friends, the very people I used to consider close friends.
And it sucks.
It sucks not only because I feeling like I'm losing them, but mostly because they don't see who they're affiliating with.
They don't see that he's a prick.
A douche.
A shitfucker.
They don't see him for the bigot that he is.
And despite his childishness and stupidity being as clear as day, they still seem to be okay befriending him.
Harbouring a prisoner.
That's how it feels like if I were to consider him as a friend.
It goes against every will in my body to accept him.
To like him.
It's just fundamentally wrong.
I hope they see him for what he is.
And I hope they don't associate themselves with him.
Because if they do, then it speaks volumes about where their priorities lie.
And it just shows how much I'm nothing like them.
It irks me to have to go to school everyday and go through the same thing over and over again.
It's my last year.
And I didn't want to have this heaviness, this, feeling of disgust hanging over my head.
Shit this.
I'm above all of this.
I know that.
God, please help me through this year.
I need to make something out of myself.
And I can't do it when my mind's preoccupied with matters so unnecessary.
I feel sleepy.
1:54 AM
