No more self questioning. At least not for the past few days.
I am who I am.
No more insecurities. They’re gone and I do hope they’re gone for good.
No more of that. I know better now.
maybe this feeling will fade away,
maybe the bad stuff would be back.
But for tonight, and for yesterday, and for the days before that.
I feel OK with myself. I feel like I own up to who I am.
*nods*
If you’re asked about what home is, I’m sure you’d come up with many different answers.
This is Home project is a newly launched project about the definition of home; by words and pictures or collages. A brilliant friend of mine, in collaboration with her editor, just launched this project a few days ago. A lot of people have been participating and I’ve seen very, very good entries as well.
It’s a shitty time we’re living in, but projects like this reminds me that there’s something more out there than… I don’t know, all the bad things we’ve been exposed to for so long.
Some nights are lonelier than the others.
Some days are harder to get through.
There are times in my life where what I need, what I long for the most, is to get a hug. To lean on his chest and to circle my arms around his waist. To pull down the sheet, lay next to him and listen to him breathe. And do nothing else. Absolutely nothing.
Those days are hard. I’d feel so alone and I don’t know what to do-because I couldn’t just shock people out of their core and hug them-and I’d end up burying it down, as deep as I can just so I don’t have to deal with the way I felt. But it comes back. It would always find its way back and it would leave me craving it more. Twice as much. Then thrice. It goes on and on and on…
I like to imagine that you’re here with me
We’d hold hands and walk. wherever you want. wherever I want. whenever we feel like it
You’d slump your head on my shoulder and instinctively, I’d tug the lose end of your hair and ask you anything.
Rough day?
What’s wrong?
You OK?
You would sigh or stay silent.
I would stay silent.
Then you’d talk. and I’d listen
Some days I would crave you so badly.
Some days I sleep with your shirt lying next to me.
Some days just hearing your voice, your phantom touches, they are not enough.
I like to imagine you’re here with me
Crooked smile and scowling eyebrows whenever I say something weird
the mellow sound of your voice when you whisper in my ear
the smell of your body soap and shampoo all over me in the morning
Do you not get what I’m trying to say to you?
Can you not see it in my eyes-the pain that would be there every time I had to drop you at the airport
the joy and the sparkle whenever you’re around
the need of making love to you
Do you not get that I’m trying to say I love you?
Do you think people who are blogging or LJing or Facebooking of Twitting or whatever you wanna call it are somewhat over exposed?
I read an interview article today and it kinda threw me aback in terms of technology. I have blogs, Facebook, Twitter… and what is the point?
I was on an internet hiatus for about a week for my final term. I do admit that it’s insanely hard for me to not go to my laptop at night like I used to and just sit here for hours surfing around. But once I got used to it, it’s actually not so bad. When I could actually open the internet again, I found myself not wanting to and telling myself that “that stuff can wait”. I’ve been so occupied by it that I didn’t realise how-I don’t know how to say this-boxed? my life really is.
It’s crazy and I have everything in my head but I’m not doing too good with words today so I can’t really say it, but… yeah.
Q: And how was today?
A: It was okay… I didn’t expect anything so, I don’t know what to say. Class was too crowded and too small for holding up 80 people. Did nothing at lab. Went home quite early. Took a shower because it was so damn hot today… And that’s besically it. I actually have to look things up on the internet for my assignments but I think I can do that tomorrow. Or later tonight.
Q: So it wasn’t… bad?
A: In a way, yes. But definitely not, like, panic-attack bad.
Q: Are you nervous for tomorrow?
A: Not really. But, you know what… I think when the time comes when I will be busy, then I will have a semi nervous breakdown. Maybe.
Q: And why is that?
A: Just because. It’s what I’ve always do. Get under pressure, and I’ll have a breakdown. Get into a traumatic experience over and over again and I’ll have panic attacks. That’s just me. Although I really wish I won’t have a nervous breakdown, I have a feeling. It’s looming somewhere.
Q: Do you plan to do something about it?
A: What can I do, exactly?
Q: Well, you can take some medications for that. If it strikes.
A: I don’t think I’m going to do that.
Q: So for the time being, can I safely say that we’re clear of danger?
A: For the time being, yes.
Q: Well you call me if anything happens.
A: Will do.
Q: My God!
A: Yeah, right.
Q: I thought you’d never come back.
A: I’m in the middle of a panic attack right now.
Q: Sit down. Tell me what happened?
A: I had it when I was at Starbucks and then it kinda went away for a while… Just now I realized it’s came back.
Q: Describe them for me.
A: My throat feels like it’s swelling up to the point where it’s almost closing down. I cannot breathe normally. I have to take a huge amount of oxygen from my mouth. My heartbeat went kinky for a while and then I just felt like I could’ve gone down crying.
Q: Okay, well… that sounds like a panic attack to me.
A: You’re telling me!
Q: Why do you have this?
A: College. What else?
Q: Hah! God, I have no idea where you are right now. We have a lot of catching up to do.
A: Let me just describe myself to you right now, okay? I’m LOST.
Q: Start from the very beginning.
A: I read the past transcripts and it just shows that basically I have gone nowhere. I’m still as lost, still as complicated, still a total wreck. I thought I’d grown past that but in a way, I think I’m more childish now than I was then. I still have the same dream and I still do not know what I should do. Oh, God, it’s coming again…
Q: Try to breathe…
A: I am absolutely freaked out about tomorrow and I don’t know why. Going to college is like facing King Kong for me. It’s horrifying.
Q: Does it have something to do with the fact that you don’t like the major?
A: Yes. Thank you very much! That was spot on!
Q: Any traumatic experiences?
A: Well just that the start of the college begins with terror, so…
Q: How’s that?
A: Well they terrorize you to the point that you apologize to the seniors no matter what. Because if you do it wrong, you’re wrong; and if you do it right, you’re still wrong. There’s always something to blame. And I get the point that they want us to be strong-minded and stand up for what’s right but I just don’t think that’s the way to begin anything. With terror. That’s, like, the worst, crappiest way to start. And to me, it still haunts me to this day. Other people get over it and move on quickly but I don’t. Every time, that experience is looming and I somehow think that it can happen again…………. Do you think I have a mental condition?
Q: I wouldn’t know. From my point of view, you do need a little help but there’s nothing so serious about it. Let’s get back to the panic attack.
A: Oh, right.
Q: How do you deal with all of them? I take it you’ve had more than one?
A: Yes. Usually I calm myself by talking myself out of it just see it as “a day” instead of seeing it as… something full of obstacles.
Q: And that would work?
A: In a short term, yes. Then I have to do it all over again……….. I gotta tell you, I… some of the stuff I said to you, I didn’t even remember them. It’s like… “poof!” they’re all gone. That’s really something else.
Q: What do you think is the bast way to end the panic attacks permanently?
A: …. I don’t know. Get good grades? Oh, f%$# that’s the last thing I wanna talk about or think about! Anyways. I suppose all that jazz and get more friends.
Q: You mean you still don’t have many friends?
A: Nope.
Q: And why is that?
A: Ummmmmm……… Difference of opinion? Difference of interest? I’m always arguing with them and that would lead to self doubt, and I fancy the stuff they don’t. I usually don’t like the stuff they love… You know what, it’s making me sick. Like, seriously, I’m about to vomit right now. I think I’m going to throw up.
…
…
…
…
Q: Better?
A: Yeah. I didn’t actually vomit, though. It was just saliva.
…
…
Q: Do something for me.
A: Yeah?
Q: I think this might help you to handle the problems.
A: Ok…
Q: I want you to buy a recorder. Whenever you feel like you’re in a situation where you want to talk the whole thing out, you record it. You say everything you want to say and don’t hold back. Just let it all out.
A: I’ve actually been thinking about that.
Q: Well, good! Now you have a reason to buy it, and I say you buy it. For your sake. IF, in the future, you decide you want to go to another psychiartrist, you give them the recording so they can listen to it. I know you don’t feel comfortable talking directly to them so that’s another way of explaining yourself.
A: Yep. Sounds good.
Q: I really think that you should start a real teraphy. Not just with me.
A: …
Q: See what kind of explanation they can come up with you, and whether you agree with them or not, that’s up for our grabs later on. You can come back here and discuss the session with me if you want to.
A: Do you have any recommendation at all?
Q: No, not in this city, I don’t. But try it out. If you’re not comfortable with seeing another shrink, then do the tapes first. Bring them to me and we’ll go from there. I suggest you buy the recorder ASAP. Because this is not healthy.
A: OK.
Q: What are you feeling right now? What’s going on in your head? Right now?
A: This afternoon when I had a panic attack, I don’t think my facial expression changed. It’s more like… what I felt. I knew my heart just went-whoosh!-you know. It just jumped. And I knew I couldn’t breathe right. But my face remains the same.
Q: Well… do you think you’re ready for tomorrow?
A: Hell no! But what else can I do? I have to tough it up.
Q: Come back tomorrow. I wanna know how you feel after the first day.
A: Okay.
The fact that one of my parents is still doing the “silence treatment” to me and my sisters and the other one got caught in the middle really make me want to scream.
What The FUCK do you want me to do?
Really, to be honest with you, I don’t believe in the Parent philosophy that I was told.
1. Parents are always right
2. If in such occasion they are wrong, see what’s written in number 1.
That’s just total BS for me.
We have apologized, and now that the treatment’s still going on, I am beginning to despise this shit. I mean, WTH dude? Come on! Grow up and stop acting like such a frickin child!
I know my dad loves me. When we went to Bali I was dozing off in the front seat (he’s driving) and I felt his hand stroking my cheek. Before the fight “broke out” that is. The argument also broke out in Bali; thereby making it the worst holiday I’ve ever had.
But now that we have already apologized for what we did (which, honest, I still don’t know that we did anything wrong. It’s just his perceptive, I think. But… we apologized anyways) and we try to be casual and he tries to act like we don’t exist.
And my mom is stuck in the middle.
WTF do you want me to do? PLEASE tell me. And then get over it.
It all started with a glance. A single, innocent flick of the eyes when I saw the front door opened.
I took a puff.
She dragged the black plastic bag and put it near the trash can. Then went inside.
I took another puff.
It looked neither big nor small. Medium. Could have easily fit.
I threw my now small cigarette to the cement and stepped on it. Went across.
Opened the can.
Put it in.
I went back to my porch and lit another one. My last one, which forced me to make a mental note to buy another pack after school tomorrow.
I took a puff.
The light was on, I saw.
I saw her figure looking out the window.
I took another puff.
***
Another day at school.
Another boring day.
Another set of notes. reports. papers. handouts.
English. Geography. Math. Health.
The only thing that got me through was the thought of buying that cigarette.
***
“Uh, can I get a pack of that one, please?”
He took it down and handed it to me. “$2.”
I gave him the money, thanked him, and walked out the door.
***
Nighttime.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“No.”
“What time is it?”
“11.”
“Then you should be in bed.”
“No.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“Are you going to smoke again?”
“That’s the plan.”
“You know it’s not good, right?”
“You do it.”
“Yeah, but I’m already ruined. I don’t want y…”
“Too late.”
I walked out the door.
I took a puff.
And another puff.
…
And another.
…
And another puff.
…
I waited.
…
…
…
I heard the creak of the door hinges.
My eyes flickered.
She took it out. She put it right next to the can. She went inside.
I waited.
Then put off my cigarette.
Then walked over.
Put it inside.
Closed it.
Went back. Lit another one.
…
I took a puff.
…
…
And another
…
And she lit the lights again.
Peeked out.
Switched it off.
I took a puff.
…
…
Went inside.
***
Just so I don’t forget this historic day (for me): I got the ELLE magazine!!!
*Whee…! Finally got my hands on this!!*
Everyone who was within 100-feet radius of me turned their attention to me as I gasped and yelped when I saw that magazine. Like I had an asthma attack or something. :D I don’t mind. I don’t care. I was just so happy… because FINALLY!!! After everyone in the group posted the scans and the interviews and the articles and all I could do was tell myself, “Don’t read it, don’t read it, don’t read it…” Coz then what’s the point of buying the magazine when I’d read the article, right?
March’s Edition of Vanity Fair is not out yet, though. But I’m happy enough that I can get my hands on that ELLE; a magazine with TONS of ads and the cover story is on page 496… Whew… That’s the first time I bought that kind of magazine (usually it’s People… or other gossip mags… Or Entertainment Weekly) so I was kinda shocked.
Anyway…
I think I found out what I want to do. Or what I dream of doing. In the mall they had this photography exhibition, and I stumbled upon it by accident. My mom was paying for the stuff she bought at the supermarket, and there it was, right in front of the cashier. I’ve always been amazed by what photos are able to do, and consider myself an adequate photographer. An amateur one by that. Here’s an example:
I started browsing around, and it was just… a feast for the eyes. The photos were amazing; beautiful and moving in only photos are able to do. Those people know what they’re doing, and they must be famous between their colleagues. I know one, he’s a very famous photographer here. The rest, I have to admit, I’ve never heard of. But I’m sure they’re big in their community.
Nearing the end of the photos, I came across this beautiful photo of a beach, with a small wooden chair under the tree. And it hit me. Like, “I think this would be perfect for me.”
I have never thought of doing… being a photgrapher and making it as a future profession. But, then again, maybe that was just what I’ve always been looking for. What I’ve always wanted. Go somewhere excluded. Travel around the world and find those beautiful, unspoiled spots. Sit for hours and wait for the right moment, and then capture it. Enjoy the view. Think about my life at the same time (I enjoy taking solitary walk along the beach, which is why beaches and oceans always fascinates me. You can go on forever and enjoy the sound of the sea and stuff like that… It’s fun), and realizing that there is a God. It’s not seldom that I got tempted and question those things, and being in the open land would just… refresh my whole system.
I was excited. Because I use to be that person whose answers to every question would be,” I don’t know” or “we’ll see” because I either can’t explain what I want, or I don’t know what I want (I’ve always been stuck in between those two). Now, if anyone ask me, one of my answer would be, “I think I may try to become a photographer.”
Having a name of what you want to do… 
It’s a relief.
