drive

im 23. i still feel the same, maybe

they say it gets better. i guess it has. time heals. it does. its hard for me to remember just how hard it was four years ago. but i know it was. i know that i was frozen and i was so so so scared of everyone. and i remember more years ago … pretty much as far back as i can remember … all i wanted was to die. i didnt know what happiness was until i was 17. people always say your childhood days were the best of your life and they wish they were five again and i just stare in wonder. having no responsibilities doesnt mean you will be happy. im happy now. most of the time. but its still hard. it still comes back.

will i ever be free?

will i ever be the girl i dream of?

i like to be alone most of the time 

i guess i do. the more alone i am, the more used i am to it. but i know im happier surrounded by love and laughter … but being around people doesnt mean youre not alone. not quite. sometimes when im around people i feel more alone than if i wasnt.

is it all in my head, what they said? 

i ruin my own life just for nothing

im always afraid of wasting time and wasting life. i know i could be so much more. but i dont do it. i fall into the same old comfortable habits and watch my dream girl crumble to dust

i drive fast so i can feel something 

why

Advertisements

noises

my mind makes noise too much 

Shhhhhh. Calm down. Breathe. Maybe stop thinking for a while oh but what if i never find love and connection and remain alone forever oh i know that i am a terrible person and i know youre disappointed in me trust me im disappointed in myself too why am i only valuable as a sex object i suppose i should stop wearing makeup and trying to look nice then ill stop being stared at thats the point of all that isnt it not like its possible to just want to dress up for yourself?

im afraid that i need help

but what if no one is able to help me maybe im beyond saving and then what will i do maybe ill just keep blaming all my problems on mental illness instead of trying to get any help for it because what if it doesnt work then all ill have to blame is myself what if im not mentally ill just a failure

i know its not right but you cant fix me this time 

thank you for not trying to fix me. i wish people would accept that sometimes i just need someone to talk to i dont need a solution you dont have to berate yourself for failing to fix me because you couldnt no matter how amazing a person you were im my own worst enemy i know that and its up to me but i dont know how i feel i dont have the power but i know this is something i have to do if someone else does it it wont be complete i will still be broken this isnt about you this is about me

what do you see when you look at me?

i dont want to know am i as much of a failure to you as i am to myself maybe i do want you to know my true self because at least it will be real it wont look like success but feel like pain. what do you see do you see emptiness or do you see potential is there hope for me

i cant control my emotions lately, im excited, im sad

why does the smallest thing turn me into an uncontrollable wreck why cant i get a grip why is everything so apocalyptic oh why does my heart break and why do i want to kill myself because of a bad day will i ever be free from this i think i am crazy

i think you mightve overdone it again

definitely. please forget that

the faces that you love are slowly giving up 

youre not supposed to take that long to get better are you? how long can i blame my upbringing for my problems i promise you ill get better but you know its an empty promise

is this me? tell me who i can be

how long do you have to be like this before it becomes who you really are they say its just your brain and you must not listen to your brain but arent i my brain if im really someone else when is she going to show up

Look at me.

meaningful connections

I follow my university’s “confessions” page and I’ve noticed a common recurrent theme in these confessions. There is an overwhelming amount of students struggling to make friends at university and in life in general. They are lonely, shy, afraid of rejection, tired of trying, depressed, and suffering from low self esteem.

They are, in other words, my kindred souls.

The number of posts and comments suggest that loneliness is an epidemic, but that’s good for us, isn’t it? It means that there are plenty of other people out there who have NOT established friend groups yet and are looking for human connection.

For what do we mean when we say “friends”?

We don’t mean the girl you wave to when you pass each other in the hall or the boy you’re paired up with for a group assignment. I hate small talk and although I know that I’m further isolating myself and causing my own loneliness, sometimes I’m too tired by small talk so I just don’t bother. And it’s not only that I’m tired and anxious. I don’t see the point. I don’t enjoy it and who’s to say it will lead to anything more? And maybe it’s because I try to make small talk with people and go nowhere, while I see a girl who spends one week with the people I have known for a year already become integrated into the group in a way I know I never will.

But, as evidence seems to show, again, I am not alone. Yet, if there are so many of us pining for friendships, why are we not able to find each other and make these connections?

Obviously, it’s not as easy as it sounds. From personal experience, I can vouch for anxiety being a huge huge factor in isolation. Everyone will tell you to join clubs and to talk to the person sitting beside you in the lecture. They don’t seem to understand how much courage it takes to merely show up at one of those club meetings and to merely NOT leave a seat in between you and the next person. We’re not even talking about going up and introducing yourself. Just to put yourself in a position where that could happen is terrifying. But say it does happen. You do end up in a club meeting. You find that half the people already have friends and are laughing and chatting at a high decibel. The other half are already in engaged conversation with the person they met 15 minutes ago. You sit in silence hoping someone will come up to you and make the first move. If someone does, you talk for two minutes about both of your majors and they give a fake laugh at your lame joke, then they announce their friend has arrived and leave.

But here’s the rub. If by some miracle of nature and humankind, you manage to put yourself in a social situation and start talking to another person, that doesn’t mean you are going to become friends. I’m not sure what percentage the likelihood of friendship developing is but I know it is not high.

I’m beginning to think I might understand something of why so many of us are struggling with this thing they call friendship. Friendship is connection. But how are connections formed? Maybe connection is formed through shared experiences and conversations – through a growing mutual understanding of each other and spending enough time together to grow comfortable and able to open up and perhaps most importantly, it means becoming attached to another person so that you care for each other and form an interest in each other’s lives.

Time forms bonds.

But before I’m comfortable with someone, it’s so hard to keep conversations going (small talk) and they don’t care about my life yet because they don’t know me and it’s so hard to have the strength and courage to start that conversation in the first place. And yet that could be the foundation of forming a friendship.

So I am stuck in a depressing circle.

And then there are people who can be immediately comfortable with strangers and OF COURSE they are going to be chosen as a friend over someone who is awkward and nervous and not quite herself yet.

The only area of connection with which I’ve seemed to have had fairly consistent success is when sex is involved. This makes me wonder if the prospect of sex encourages a person to participate in an emotional and psychological exchange and this in turn causes connection. I can’t say the idea doesn’t depress me. Do I need sex to convince people to give me a chance?

I guess some evidence goes against this theory. Some people do seem to make friends very rapidly. Then I fall into a rabbit hole of wondering if I am simply an excruciatingly boring person; hence, why I end up alone. The flip side is that the conversations I have managed to sustain haven’t succeeded in bringing me friendships. So why expend time and effort for something that is so unlikely to bear fruit?

Maybe it is a self fulfilling prophecy. I always return to this and wonder if I am the enemy of my own life. If I believed that everyone wanted to be friends with me, would this turn into reality?

Seems like a fantasy.

At the end of the day, I know it is not a question that I am my own enemy. I’m the one who is anxious, too tired to make an effort, too quiet, too intimidated by everyone talking over me to pitch in a word and unable to make myself heard when I try.

I’m still longing for connection and I’m not ready to give up trying just yet. But I’m well aware that what I call “trying” falls short of everything I could be doing and I’ve been trying and trying to change my personality and neuroses enough to make real “trying” possible.

But it never happens.

happy place

in the quest to be content with being alone, an absolute necessity is to find your happy place.

i didnt think id be writing this post. if i was looking for quite a sickeningly positive term, the opposite of the melancholy personality i profess to have and separate from my romanticising of sadness, i couldnt do better. i cringe to type out happy place, even as i cringe at my self absorption. which is why im writing this post, because ive come to the realisation that for me depression is a bit of a revel. A revel in sadness and suicidal thoughts. And its a bit like an addiction. Doesn’t feel great but its easy to get stuck in it.

a happy place grounds you into reality. keeps you there. makes you realise that there’s color in the world if you can only keep your mind at peace for long enough.

my happy place is sitting down in a cool room in front of a computer and pounding my thoughts out, with music blaring in my ears

my happy place is walking in the city streets and feeling the cool air on my skin and a drink in my hand

my happy place is cooking good food and eating it and tidying and cleaning my apartment until its something i can say im proud to have worked for

my happy place is what makes me feel that i could be alone, all alone in the world, and i would be ok. it’s what makes me feel like there is love, wonder, and beauty within me. within my own heart. and thats not all i want. but enough to survive.

these places ground me. they make me know in my heart that im not ready to die. even if this was all there was (and i know its not … oh how i know that theres more for me in store), i dont want to leave. i want to read one more book, drink one more drink, write one more thought, and discover one more thing about myself.

or two. or a hundred

wonder

in june, i started a word doc. it was called “everything i used to love”.

I was feeling wonder slipping from my fingers. It didn’t start in June. It had started long before that and it came in waves, sometimes more intense than before. but it came to a point where i was finding it hard to remember what wonder felt like … to remember if i had ever really held it in my palm.

but i must have. so i wrote that doc, and i finished it three and a half months later. i thought if i could at least remember everything that used to bring me wonder and write it down, maybe i would remember what wonder felt like and maybe id be able to bring it back.

i cant believe that i feel wonder now.

im giddy with the realisation. im giddy with love and life. im giddy with

wonder.

it was a combination of life events and a strength ive found in myself and the healing of time and luck and good health.

i feel like a child again sometimes.

i see wonder in the cool air on my skin.

i see wonder in my own face that i am coming to love. makeup or no makeup.

i see wonder in the colors on my eyeshadow palette and the endless possibilities. i see wonder in turning my face into a canvas and painting it with beautiful colors and shapes.

i see wonder in the comfort of my bed and the warmth of my blanket and the softness of a toy.

i see wonder in the eyes of small laughing children.

i see wonder in pretty dresses. in twinkling christmas lights. in sweet sodas and good home cooked meals.

i see wonder in people’s happiness. i see wonder in walking the city streets. i see wonder in gorgeous music that makes me want to cry. i see wonder in tears.

i see wonder in the people who love me and the people who stand by me.

i see wonder in the eyes of the people i love.

i see wonder in the soft grass and wildflowers that grow there. i see wonder in the cold water and the hot sand of the beach.

i see wonder in greeting strangers. i see wonder in movement. in feeling the wind blow your hair back. in feeling your heart race and pound.

i see wonder in soft kisses. i see wonder in the touch of a hand.

i see wonder in pretty words. in crinkling pages and the smell of books.

i see wonder in faces and bodies in pictures. i see wonder in the kindness of people and i see wonder in the humanness.

i dont just see wonder. i hear it. i feel it. i touch it. i smell it. i taste it.

ive been writing so many posts these past days because im filled with so much excitement that i want to share. my words and ideas move faster than my energy. im filled with so much desire to create and reflect on love and give it through my words. i wonder often if i should schedule posts instead of just pressing publish as soon as i write them. then perhaps we would have consistent and fairly frequent posts throughout the year rather than a spattering of 10 in one month and none for six.

but i love publishing immediately. i suppose because that’s the moment when the words are most true to life. they are most raw and real because this is the moment that i thought them up and this is where i am right now. it wouldn’t be true to life if i published this post two months from now about wonder if i was having a depressive episode then(but fingers crossed).

and mostly im just far too excited and trigger happy to care.

maybe i see it as a case of … what if the world ended tomorrow? Why the fuck would i wait until tomorrow to scream out all the excitement?

i am wonder

WONDER WONDER WONDER

2017

2017 has been a wild year. I dare say, the wildest year of my 19 years so far, which to be fair, is not saying very much. If I’m lucky and remain healthy, I’ve lived a quarter of my life – which is to say, there are many more potentially and hopefully wild years to come.

Still. Wow. It’s strange. 2017 has passed remarkably slowly and so so much has happened. It amazes me that so much can be packed into a single year. I started 2017 depressed as hell. I was working three days a week and aside from that, more or less, I was grounded. It drove me crazy. I can’t tell you how claustrophobic it felt. One of my greatest fears is a lack of freedom and I felt that lack. Acutely. It made me panic and it felt like walls closing in. I compensated with holding on, working, and waiting for uni. I tend to hate holidays as well. Without the routine and distraction of schoolwork and without seeing my friends everyday, it is easy to fall into depression. Which I did. Hard.

Life gets better. It really does. But not right away. 2017 saw my first year at university and I don’t know what to say about that, even now. While other parts of my life got better, university was rough all year round. I felt like all the socialization I’d done in year 13 had gone out of the window. I was back at square one. I had no idea how to make friends and was too terrified and exhausted to speak to anyone anyway. I can tell you that I made 0 friends from university this year. Maybe 0.5 friends because there is one person who always says hi to me when we pass?

I can tell you that university didn’t exactly help the depression.

But. There’s something to be said for adventures alone. Even if it was isolating, it was also freeing and eye opening and incredible to go on adventures on my own for, really, the first time.in my life. It was fun taking public transport, as strange as that sounds. It was great discovering the freedom of being able to get around on your own and to go everywhere around the city. It was fun discovering what it means to be your own person … to buy what you want, eat and drink what you want, dress how you want, go where you want, hang with who you want. It was freeing to have the option to go or not go to lectures. It was freeing to have the world as my oyster, even if I was too lonely and sad to fully appreciate that. Still. It was nice to know that that was an option.

I moved out. It still amazes me that that really happened. I’ve been dreaming about moving out since as far back as I can remember and to think that it actually happened … when I was 18 like I wanted … I can’t stop marveling in it. I don’t remember to appreciate it nearly as much as I should … that I’ve really achieved this dream of mine. I rent an apartment room in the city. It’s mine and mine alone and it’s cozy and comfortable and cute. And it’s in the city! Tell me that isn’t lovely. I can look out my window and see the city lights up close and I can go anywhere at midnight and I’m on the 13th floor! If that was my only achievement this year, I could even say that I was happy with it.

Academically, uni was fine. I got the grades I expected both semesters, and even better than I’d dared hoped in second semester. I didn’t take advantage of extra help and I ended up simply studying for exams and assignments much of the time rather than truly immersing myself in learning. I found myself too depressed and tired to care about uni unless grades were involved. That makes me sad. But I made it through and next year will be better. Yes, I always tell myself that but that doesn’t mean it won’t really happen.

I suppose if my social life took a dive, at least my love life became existent. A hella lot of flirting, three relationships, and a rollercoaster ride later, I can say that I’ve come out better for the experience. It was beautiful. It was fun. It was eye opening. It was all of them. I can really say that. It was the friendship that I didn’t have platonically … but also love. I fell in love for the first time, and I would venture to say, it was a good thing … if I had to classify 2017 into columns of good and bad … but of course I don’t do things like that. I deal in grey. Always grey. I suppose it was grey. But a pretty grey.

I discovered some of the best music this year. It’s wonderful. Coupled with the amount of public transport I take, I do really need it. I’m in awe with just how good music can be.

I learned to cook. If you can call it that … 75 percent of my food is good or edible. The other 25 percent must be disguised with copious amounts of sweet soy sauce … but I get by. I learned to clean a shower … sort of. Spoiled child that I am, it’s been a process.

I feel like I’ve found my style this year … or at least a good portion of it. I’m dressing in clothes that I really love and wearing colors I want on my face. I’ve learned to do makeup and it’s brilliant. I am in love. I’m trying not to let fear and embarrassment discourage me from looking the way I want and I think I’ve done a pretty decent job of that. Two years ago, I was self conscious about my mascara looking too obvious. Now I WILL wear a bright red dress and I WILL wear green lipstick and I WILL not care that I look like Christmas.

I’ve tried a lot of new things – food, drinks, places, movies, experiences. I’ve taken risks. Social anxiety aside, I’ve made choices and gone for experiences in which my bravery impresses me. I didn’t like some of them, but mostly I loved and breathed everything life has to offer.

Creativity-wise … I suppose 2017 has been a flop. This blog has been one of the only things I’ve been able to keep up. Flute and piano practice have completely gone out the window and I have written …. let’s see. 2 songs? I have progressed backwards on every language I was learning. I wrote 15000 words of a novel. I read more than twenty books but they were mostly for my uni course. I’ve been taking the year slowly. That’s ok. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will probably not have a creative career and that I’ll probably be happier for it. I’m doing and creating what feels right when it feels right because … that feels right for me.

I’ve written a lot of introspective, non fictional content. I’ve had this platform … always there for me when I needed. I’ve written pieces on the things I love, on music that speaks to me, on boys. Ah, boys. Boys. There have been love letters. There have been existential crises. I’ve kept up my instagram accounts and found art there.

I’ve gone through more than one identity crisis. 2017 didn’t help at all. But I feel a lot more clarity now. I am every feeling I feel and every mask I put on. I am all of them. I am dynamic and colorful and a kaleidoscope. That was a discovery.

A lot of friendships have faded. I haven’t forgotten my myriad of posts on loneliness just one to two months ago. Loneliness is real. It may be one of the most real things in my life. But. (There’s always a but) I’m feeling positive about it now. I’m looking up.

I have a friend that I know I can rely on. I have a friend group that is flaky and fragmented but … we do have good times. Sometimes. I’m not sure who my real friends are. But maybe that doesn’t matter so much. Even though there’s a part of my brain that tells me that THATS ALL THAT MATTERS … I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just come to a point where I’ve realised there’s no point in getting upset over it. I’m a little resigned right now to being the third wheel … or fourth or fifth or seventh wheel. To being the one to ask to be invited places. It doesn’t matter. I’ll find happiness where I can. I’ll give love where I can. Maybe people don’t care especially for me. Well maybe I don’t care especially for most people either. We find people that make life bearable and that surround us with noise and fun and maybe … in rare moments of luck … friendship. What is a friend even? Maybe it doesn’t matter. The people I know are enough. Maybe one day I’ll find the place where I belong. Until then, maybe I’ll be a nomad.

I’m obnoxiously giddy with happiness right now. I’m not sure why. Maybe because the year has been good after all. That might be because I’m in a happy mood and am only therefore remembering the positive moments in HD (my psychology classes would say that’s why – see, I didn’t forget everything). But if that was the case, I’m glad it is. I’d rather remember the good because it was pretty darn good. I achieved and learned so much. I’m in a place I want to be now. I’m living where I want. My relationship with my family is better. I have the best friend a girl could ask for and I have lovely people in my life. I’m in a relationship and I have so much hope for it. I’m maybe dangerously happy with my boyfriend and dangerously committed in a dangerously short amount of time. I don’t care. Life is short and I’m one quarter of the way through. 3 quarters of a lifetime is hardly long enough to do everything and discover everywhere and share the infinite love of a bursting heart with another person. I’m going for what I want.

I’m so so excited for next year.

I know that the high will fade eventually and that maybe the low will come in. Sooner or later. But that’s ok too.

Right now, it’s 2017. And I’m alive.