MindWanderings

The thoughts & ramblings of a young mind

Archive for the month “September, 2012”

I love sending feel-good emails.

I believe in recognizing other people’s goodwill & kindness.

Or just doing something above and beyond their necessary role in the job.  See, they’ll never know how they did unless.. if someone speaks up.  And I don’t mind being that person at all because I think they deserve the good word and good feeling that comes with it when they do something great.  See, I love good emails complementing me about something I did.  Heck, I confess, I even save it up to feel good at a later time and smile sometimes.  I like helping others.  and I like being appreciated.  So it’s kind of a mutualistic win-win “do unto others as you would have them do” in my mind.
So far I’ve sent feel-goods to one of my professors and to one exceptional volunteer coordinator.  I hope to send more later when the situation arises!  I look forward to making someone’s day! 🙂

The truth? I lie. Day in. Day out.

..with a fake smile plastered on.

While dying on the inside.  My enthusiasm, forced.  I tell people I love what I’m doing.  I love what I’m studying.

I don’t.  I dread it.  I can go to school fine, and struggle through school fine and maybe even get above average if I try hard enough.  But then comes the real challenge: how can I enjoy  a job in the field?  I’m dreading everything I do.  I want to curl up in my room and deal with nothing.  I dread having to find experience related to my field.  Take a look at my room, and you will know where my passions lie.

I’m a liar.  To myself and to others.

You know the saying fake it till you make it?

Well.. I never learned.  That certainly applies when helping myself gain confidence.  But.. faking what you love?  It’s impossible.  Talented enough, and you could trick others.  You could spruce up your resume all pretty and pretend to be all that while impressing everyone.  But yourself?   You know.  You know the truth deep down.  The truth that will never be uprooted.  One that cannot be pushed, pulled, or forced away no matter your actions.  You will merely drown in your lies.  You will drown in stress, depression, fear, and all the physical side effects.  You see.  I’m only __. Yet.. my hair is falling out from stress of dealing with things I don’t want to deal and I’ve actually physically felt myself to be on the brim of getting sick, as a release for all my pent-up frustration and stress with (and then immediately fell sick after that semester) but force myself to so I can be the person I present myself to be.  My facade.

I really need to do something for myself.

Me, oh, melodramatic me.  Whatever will I do with me?  Can you tell I’m back in school?  I’m such a depresso!

fleeting romances: Just random news of the day.

So I was walking down the stairs to class.  A guy was walking diagonally across the ground floor, when he saw me coming down.  Cue intense 2-second eye-stare.  He locked eyes with me, slowed down, and smiled.  I think I may have given a smile, but I don’t remember.  But as always, I was first to look away, and never to look back again in a bout of shyness.  He wasn’t so bad looking. =)

That stare was sort of intense.  Makes me wonder what he was thinking, huh?

At the same time, I think leaving it like so is quite nice- if not fully satisfying.  A small romantic moment in time, a secret between two strangers.  It’s nice how even the spoken word was not required.

May I introduce you to my perfect family?

Perfect my ass, to be honest.  I feel scarred by far too many family battles that cannot be won.

You know what he just said to me when he pressured me to share every detail about my day and I said I didn’t feel like it and didn’t want to?

He tells me:  it’s not like it was his choice to have me.

I told him, it was.

He tells me, no.  Let’s make this clearI did not want you.  Your mother did.  GET THAT INTO YOUR MIND!

I wanted to tell him, his fucking man-part is on him.  Unless if there was something I didn’t know about a special parthenogenic mother of mine, I would fucking swear he was the one who took part in being responsible for having me.  His choice by 50%.  But I have my own pride.  And I refuse to lower myself to his level of insult.  I refuse to start battling in vulgar terms.

You know what I mean to him?  Let me introduce the hierarchy in the family:

My father, my mother, my sibling, the furniture & house, me.  Yeah.  I’m basically an unwanted piece of over-bearing furniture standing in the way of everything.  In my father’s own words: you’re in the way of the universe.  The frigging couch probably has a higher value than me.

I just hate him more every single god damn day.  I heard him yelling and putting down my brother this morning.  Then swearing and calling someone names on the phone.  And, that’s on top of constantly telling me everything I own is his, and he owns me, so I have to do everything he says.  Fucking tried to strangle me when I was in elementary.  Tried to abandon me too.  Poured water on me as freaking punishment.  And most definitely hit me on the face with spit frothing from his mouth on more than one occasion.  My sibling?  He gets none of this.  Worse comes to worse, is yelling.  And then in high school, they brought me to the psychologist because they swore something was wrong with me.  Depression, they said.  Of course, they kept their slate clean, and everything that went awry was because of me, me, and me.  They were the perfect parents, the perfect couple, worried about their imperfect daughter.  There was nothing I had to say.  I was given play therapy.  A therapy for young kids around 7-10 when I was 15.  Most useless sessions of degrading bullshit ever.

You think I will  tell you about my day?  I don’t want anything to do with you.

That hostile, friend-less, alcoholic couch potato.  I’m just so freaking mad, I’m beyond words.

Edit: More things he says:

  •  “If even I, your own father, don’t want to be your friend,  who the hell would want to be your friend?”

No one outside my family knows this.  You know how hard it is to keep your silent shouts and horrors to yourself?  My heart yells but my mind, the creator of my mask of a good perfect girl with a perfect family, keeps everything well hidden.

Alright.  I’m done my rant.  I’m sorry, readers. For having to put up with my profanity, anger, frustrations.  I really needed to get that out of my system because I have no one in real life to rant to.  I feel like an outcast in this world.

This is what drives me

..through the hard times.

I admire these people for their optimism, for their strength, for their stories of hell.

Stories & Faces of addiction

And I feel incredibly sorry for them.  Many with upbringings that were scarring and horrendous with even worse stories to follow in later life.  Reflecting on my own life after this, I feel blessed to be given opportunity after opportunity to live a comfortable life.

 

I swear never to stray onto the path these poor souls have wandered on, whether by choice or not.  This path of living hell.

And I will do anything to stay strong.  To let none of this love, money, and years of nurturing to waste.  I will live my life to the fullest.

I feel like storytelling.

Our paths cross once, twice, thrice.  A fleeting moment in time, enough to allow for fledgling dreams and hopes to arise.

Yet, not long enough to turn dreams to reality.  Not enough for the paths to intertwine to one.  

And thus, the loose threads slowly unravel.  What work Fate started and left unfinished becomes undone. Was this because Fate pushed us together to show us we would make a strong intertwining if we so chose and gave us a gift of Choice?  Or was it simply Fate, working away, making mistakes, and deliberately unraveling the strings strung together?  Or perhaps Fate simply forgot and left it undone.

Nevertheless, despite Fate’s reasons, everything returns to the equilibrium state of before.  Time moves on unrelentingly, and distant memories of the crossing dwindle and fade.  And for the two beings, they continue their paths, side by side, but each in their own reality, as the paths continue in a parallel fashion.

The two move on, searching, searching for that which they will never again find.  Searching for a part of themselves they lost to one another.  A void which no longer can be filled.  A hunger which will never be satisfied.

With no further crosses, they become destined to remain separate forever and ever, however close their existences may be.  That is, until the day their paths run dry and their existences wink out.  From there, there is hope.  A renewal of life: a new spark may flare and come forth, and opportunities may once again rise from the ashes.  But for now, they must endure.  And endure, they will. 

Music to accompany my story: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8d7F5ikbajU&feature=BFa&list=SP957A89BCE798193F

I think it’s fitting being sad, soft, & gentle, but gives a sense of hope.

I love being poetic.  And being repetitive.  And exaggerating issues on my mind.  I feel okay now, I just want to put it in poetic terms of a story it inspired.  Twisting in Fate & Choice & Time as part of my fairytale.  🙂

Regret

My Story

.. and then, as fast as it had begun, it ended.  Final words; lost in the wind, emotions; raw, an end with strings flailing in the wind.  No one to listen, no one to care.  Because in that one precious moment that could have significantly changed everything

I paused, I doubted, I panicked, and ultimately

I took no action

My Regret

My life, my hands, my actions.  My failure, my sorrow.  My ultimate regret.

I’m sorry, me.

My lesson

Time is precious.  Don’t let those that matter, slip away.  Clutch them tight and never let go.  Don’t hide behind a facade. & don’t hide your emotions.  Let yourself free.  Be true, be real, be you.    

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