Leaving

Well, I should be packing right now. But since I don’t want to leave,– just yet– I’ve decided to write a blog post instead.

Leaving is not a new word to me anymore. Staying, packing, leaving. I guess there is nothing new under the sun.

It has been a year and a half since I decided to stay in Manila to study. My parents were hesitant at first, but it’s hard for someone to change a stubborn person’s decision once he/she has made up his/her mind. You see, I am a very indecisive person. I can’t even stick to one opinion in the middle of a heated argument. However, I found out that whenever somebody tries to stop me from doing the things that I want to do, my will to move suddenly boosts up until they have no choice but to allow me. And look where my decisions took me. I’ve formed another family of friends who understand me in spite of my shortcomings and breakdowns. I am now more responsible than I was before. But most of all, I’ve learned to handle things on my own (with some help from my friends, of course haha).

Goshhh, time flies so fast. One more term and I’ll be moving on to another chapter of my story. More like studies, haha. And I don’t wanna leave just yet. It feels so ironic to pack up things that belong to me when in fact, I don’t even know where I truly belong.

I guess I just have to blame myself for feeling a pang of longing to places that I haven’t visited yet. I also have my constant itch to leave the places that exhaust the soul out of me.

Sigh.

It’s so difficult to figure out the things that are going on in my mind when I, myself, do not even know what I want.

 

How about you? Do you know where you truly belong? 

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this post is absolutely meaningless

via Daily Prompt: Meaningless

i honestly don’t have any plans on writing a blog post today or whatever but i saw the daily prompt and I suddenly thought, aye! that’s what i’m literally feeling right now

i don’t know what’s happening to me today that i am actually feeling like i’m catching feelings off guard which obviously sucks btw

 

meaningless

ironic because this word has a meaning

unfortunately though, i dont

 

i dont want to begin this prompt or blog post talking about him again, man

but

i have to

 

everybody knows the feeling of being broken, lost and hollow inside.

it feels like you’re yearning for something that you don’t even know.

it doesn’t hurt,

and nothing even needs to heal

but somehow, you just really want to recover.

 

lately, i’ve been sleeping a lot and eating all day.

nothing seems to motivate me anymore.

and you’re literally nowhere to be found

while i’m out here

living what they call life on my own.

 

goddamn i just miss u so much

and i know your feelings will never reciprocate

but somehow i’m hoping that they’ll do.

 

helping the fish resurface

(posting for the daily prompt)

I’ve tried holding my breath underwater for more than ten seconds. I didn’t know that my lungs can do that until I succeeded. For a brief moment, I thought I could be a fish.

My zodiac sign is pisces. I’ve read too many horoscopes to justify that I am. It doesn’t matter, though.

What matters is when I stumbled upon a girl during the first day of our class. Being a judgmental person such as myself, well, I didn’t really think good of her. I have this innate characteristic that can tell who I would perfectly associate with. Trying not to show subtle movements of looking at her from head to toe, this innate characteristic could tell that she’s definitely the type of person I would not gladly associate with. I could only think of this until I was proven wrong at that same day. Seeing that it was a very hot day (by that time, summer has just ended and the heat barely went away), she brought this mini fan and she was sharing it with us, especially with me. And I don’t even know her at all and vice versa. Touched by the small gesture, I realized, “Hey. Maybe she isn’t that bad after all.” So I decided to stop judging her and started befriending her.

I didn’t know back then why she was so clingy. You see, there are two types of being clingy, it’s either cute or annoying. And she showed the latter one. She sat beside me when I just wanted to sit beside my friend that I’ve only met one month ago at that time. Since I saw that my friend found someone new to befriend with, I went along with her. I have no choice because she was really being clingy with me. I just couldn’t get her away from me.

And so the following weeks came. I was happy with her. I brushed all of the judgment that I have imposed upon meeting her by that time. We had another friend whom I have introduced to her. Together, we made a bond. We were happily doing stuff typical teenage girls do.

Everything I’ve thought of her changed when she started showing her true colors. She was inviting boys over her mother’s condominium unit, the same place where she lives. I felt queasy seeing her with three boys who look like they’re going to do something that I should be aware of. I warned her. She listened– defended them, too. They were nice, she said. They’re good people, she said. I wasn’t convinced, though. She still invited them afterwards for more than three times. They’d go with her for I don’t know– and I don’t care– how many times.

She’d go to school with skimpy crop tops or with outfits you don’t casually wear to go to school. I brushed off my typical judgmental self. Told myself, “Hey. She isn’t that bad. Don’t judge by the way she dresses at school.” I successfully convinced myself. I have to admit, though, that I was confused during that time. Always asking myself, “Is this really the kind of person you befriend with?” I’ve always chosen to defend her at the back of my head.

It became normal for me to see her cry, too. In school or even in public places. She would tell stories about her mom. How terrible her mom was, how she has no freedom from her mom, how her mom hurts her every night physically and emotionally. I pitied her. I really did. I would comfort her. She’d seek help and I was generous to give her what she needed for the sake of her sanity. Until one day I finally said, run away from her or report her in a government agency which would help for her own welfare even though I know that she doesn’t have the gut to. I’ll admit that I regret saying that.

We (me and our other friend) met her mom in their condominium unit while we were writing our term paper. Her mother was so nice and so cool. I can’t see the mother she was telling on us. Not one hint of that mother who hurts her every night. After that encounter, she told us that her mother liked us very much. I remember her mother saying that she shouldn’t bring boys over their unit without her permission, one rule she broke too many times that I eventually have lost count of.

It appears to me that her mother was nice at all. It’s just the way how she interacts with her. In fact, I understood her mother. Very much. I saw my own mother in her mother’s worry and behavior. That is one reason why I don’t get why she seems so mad at her mom. (Her mom works alone and is the breadwinner of their family. Her father would help them financially sometimes, and other times, he doesn’t. Her father has yet another family to take care of. He left their home when she was still at a very young age.)

Time passed by and I wasn’t happy anymore. Her problems became mine. I never wanted that. I have my own troubles to deal with and yet I have this petty little girl to take care of. I sought help and advice from my mom. She said,”Yeah. I know the people you associate with. She clearly isn’t the type.” In short, I left her. She was becoming emotionally dependent on me. I didn’t want that. I’m not anyone’s savior. I saved myself from drowning but she was this fish who chose to dive deeper into the abyss. I think I didn’t live here on Earth to help her resurface. If I could do it myself, why can’t she?

I give her the cold treatment now and I hope she would realize that I’m not comfortable around her anymore. I feel bad for myself. I don’t know if I should pity her.

I hope she could resurface soon without anyone’s help.

 

 

Cocoon of the Caterpillar Me

(A quick response for the Daily Post Prompt.)

Home.

It can be an establishment with 4 walls on it. Or it can also be someone’s arm you run and fall into when you’re terribly miserable with your life. Or it can also be yourself. I don’t know but for me, home is my cocoon.

I remember when I was 14 years old (lol I talk of it like it has been a long time of my life– but seriously though) and I never had the gut to just come home and dwell in my soft, warm bed. I was always looking, seeking, reaching for a place that is peaceful enough to call it my actual home. I’ve always thought of stealing someone else’s car or stopping by the bus stop to catch a ride just to run away from the town that has held captive of me for so many years. Now, don’t get me wrong; I loved that town and I love it up until now. But at that time, I was done. I’ve had enough of the same faces I see everyday. I’ve had enough of those same old establishments I see every Sunday morning when I go to church. I’ve just had enough. It feels like I was never able to explore so many environment outside of that town. It feels like I was never able to find who I truly am. (For more information about this feeling, check this short, untitled post out.)

I’ve had the plan settled out. I would leave home at the time my mother finally realized that I am terribly lost. But I never did. I don’t even know why. Maybe because I’m afraid that I might be killed or I might never find a way back to my family and just resort to living alone. That feeling intensified when I read the book by John Green entitled, “Paper Towns”. I still didn’t run away, though. Maybe because I realized that I have the plans laid out for my future. Moreover, I wasn’t able to save enough to supply my needs when that running-away-feeling bothered me.

On the contrary, I was glad I didn’t. I am now 16 and is studying in a state university far from the said town. It’s so distant that I had to find a dormitory which is exactly a 5 minute walk from the said university. From this experience, I’ve realized that home is where my family is. It’s not buried deep inside me that I have to be alone for a while just to feel it. It was always there in that town that I left for the purpose of achieving my goals. It was always there.

Now, I always wait for Saturdays to come quick so I can finally go back home. It was always safer there. At home, it feels like I am a tiny, precious caterpillar wrapped in my cocoon. Protected from any harm or danger. I like it. I miss home.

One funny thing about school is that they give you ‘homework’. It was never ‘homework’ for me. They’re just plain works assigned to be executed out of your school since the time was too short for a long day. (Woah, did I just create my own definition of homework?)

(This prompt might lead you to the suggestion that I am miserably lonely with my life.) ((I’m not, really.))

Soooo, sanctuary. It is my cocoon as this prompt title suggests.

Now. For you. You should always remember that no man is an island, okay?

Cheers to the Developed Me

By this time, it’s exactly 24 hours until my sixteenth birthday. As a part of my own celebration, I declared to myself that I will be writing–or typing, rather–my memories as a fifteen year old girl who was left lost in a world I didn’t know has existed all this time. It took a while to find myself and now, I’m very glad to say that I have changed–for the better, of course.

The start of my fifteenth year of existence was very memorable. I could still see the vivid memory of it back in my mind. I was in love and it was visible by my glow. I would produce the faintest red on my cheeks out of the blue and that is how I’ve always wanted it. This man–this sublime, clever and capricious man was the reason for the “glow”.

A month later, I watched him leave. I have to admit, it was not a very fantastic sight to see.

I lost myself. I’ve learned that I have always depended my own happiness on this man. To see him is happiness. To touch him is happiness. To speak to him is happiness. To hear him sing to my ears, oh God, is beyond all the happiness that I can find in this rueful world. I didn’t think any of it was pathetic, and I’ve always believed or thought that I am not entrusting all my feelings and perception to this man until I woke up one day and found that POOF–he was already gone. He left the town to chase his own dreams in a premier state university located near the heart of the city.

After that, I decided to let him go and gradually move on. But moving on felt like a lifelong process. The more I try to successfully forget about him, the harder it gets. When I feel that I’m slowly learning to put him out of my mind, that is the exact time when my brain tries to reminisce all of the moments I’ve shared with him. Sometimes, I just wanted to bang my head against the wall so that I could just easily forget but doing that will only cause more pain.

The fifteenth year of the second millennium was also the year of escaping my comfort zone, wherein I was held captive for fourteen years. I have made new friends and I tried to stop picking them. I evolved into this woman who finally learned that being judgmental will lead you nowhere, and that has greatly helped me in my life.

Actually, I consider my friends as the “chosen ones”, because to be honest, being my friend is very hard. I choose the matured ones who can keep up with my attitude and vice versa. If I felt like I am not really comfortable around you, I will immediately do anything to distance myself from you–which is known as the worst attitude that I have in my system.

Apart from those, fifteen-year-old Heide also learned to seek a Great Perhaps. I finally tried taking risks and chasing opportunities but most of the time, I fail.

Failure has always been associated with me. I know that I’m not the best but I am certainly not the worst, either.  Just like what it is said from one of my favorite songs by Marina and the Diamonds, “‘Cause I feel like I’m the worst, so I always act like I’m the best”, in order to be the best, you must fake it until you succeed. I’m not saying that one must be pretentious, but rather, I am trying to say that if you want to succeed in the horrible things you do in your life, you must first do your best.

My fifteenth birth year was a year of learning, forgiving and understanding. Last month, I had a difficulty with my friendship to two lovely people. I got caught into a wrongdoing that I have regretted since then. We were somehow able to resolve it afterwards.But I do believe that every cloud has a silver lining. Because of the issue that me and my friends have faced, our bonds with each other and to our families have been stronger.

All in all, I am proud to say that I have developed into a better woman. I have learned to stand up for my own humanity rights and to find the happiness within myself without depending on other people. I have realized that the change always start in ourselves. However, it is always our choice if we will change for the better or for the worse. But before I end this essay, first, I want to imprint some promises for myself here: I will do my best to enhance myself further and change my flaws. I will also live life to the fullest and start doing the things that some adult people think are impossible for teenagers to do. All of these promises will serve as the ending for this essay but the start of a new life.

berlin art

Artwork by: Lamiaa Ameen (taken from berlin-artparasites)

Damn.

I don’t even know how to start.

I was told by many people (some students just like me) that they are very much inspired because of me, which makes me cry happy tears because damn, why? Out of all these amazing human beings in this world, why me?

Lately these days, I’ve been torturing myself with profanities. I’ve always told myself that I am not intelligent enough. I am not that great, bright, or even beautiful.

(damn that teardrop)

But they told me that they are inspired because of how I perceive the world. They adore me with my ‘intelligent’ brain and even my guitar skills, although I’ve always known that someone is still better than me. My best friend even said I inspire her because I am just simply amazing (which is totally confusing but okay, wow)

(damn, where’s the formality in this blog post)

Still, I don’t know how and where to begin but I guess this will be a thank-you post.


THANK YOU. (DAMN, THE TEARS ARE REAL NOW. HELP)

Thank you for the people who claim that they are inspired because of me. Even though the truth is, you inspire me.

You are the ones who make me want to to develop and to serve as an inspiration not just for you, but for a wider crowd.

For once in my life, I found one of the main reasons why I live in this world.