English · My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy

It’s Not The Life Inside The TV but What’s With These Exceeding Dramas?

IMG_20171112_081634_620

“I cannot.” I said, everyday, again and again.

I can’t bear with the fact that I have to keep asking for what I want, what I have, what I got, and what I don’t and didn’t in everything. It’s too exhausting, I’m too exhausted to ask.

You know that feeling when you’re in a mid 20s crisis, and you even not yet reach the half of 20s? Perplexing, I know. That’s what I feel.

The title would be: Monday of self-loathing and wondering what I want in life. Except it’s not Monday, it’s everyday.

I don’t want to leave my house in the morning ever again. I don’t want to do that job ever again. I don’t want to meet these and those people ever again. I dont’t want to be in this relationship ever again. I don’t want to wake up and make a living in that small room that I rented ever again. I don’t want to be in this city ever again.

Hence the lists going on, in a satanic kind of neverending complains. Because people said, adults supposed to not complaining, they’re mature and rational enough to rationalizing everything in their rational mind. Whereas I am just a crappy childish mind who trapped in a body of 23. I hate this breakouts things and what I hate the most is the piece of my 23 yo’s mind that force the child in me to think rational.

One wanna shut the door. The other one wanna take responsiblities. One wanna going happy-go-lucky. The other one wanna be prepared and super-strategical. One just want to be happy and playing everytime everyday. The other one want to torture herself in order to achieve something massive.

“You two are so noisy, you know? Get out of my head, you making my head blown ear to ear!” I said to that child and that 23 yo’s when they starts arguing.

But apparently, if they both shut themselves up, then I’ll be shutted down too. Dead, in the other word.

I know, win-win solution is such piece of crap, isn’t it?

I never had this issue of loss and abandoned. I think I’ve used to it. Well maybe that’s not the case. But I don’t want to blame my hormonal and digestion system ever again. They maybe take a part of this roller coaster ride, but somehow the greater influence is come from the other side of the wall.

And we tried to run and hide. But it capable enough with eagle-sight and experienced well in hide-and-seek.

Ah, why it has to be despair in every seconds I tried to breathing the life, huh? You hate me enough, dear The Almighty One?

Advertisements
English · My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy

I Wondering…

How much mistakes needed until one can get it right?
How much tears needed until one can get the smile?
How much pains needed until one can get a victory?
How much scars needed until one deserve true love?
How much lies needed until one can stay on honesty?
How much jealous needed until one can be at peace?
How much insecurities needed until one can stand proudly?
How much sleepless nights needed until one can have a rest safe and sound?

How much sacrifices do we need?
To be alive.
To feel loved.
To be accepted.
To feel recognized.
To be happy.
To feel like we belong to something.

After all this time, how much sacrifices do we need?
And when will it reach to the end?

 

English · My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy

Happy Birthday, A Clumsy 22-Year-Old Girl

00840002

The 22-year-old me is an introvert, an acute one. A random MBTI tests all over internet said either she is 84% or 96% introvert. If it’s true then it’s not a shocking fact as she suffered a lot from her social anxiety. She was even hide in the restroom just to catch a breath at least twice a day during her the first three months of work life.

The 22-year-old me would be a national champion of overthinking competition, if it’s any. She is a B-type which people would called a happy-go-lucky type. So basically her nature is a mix-up. An overthinker B-type, she would declare. It’s quite not easy to live in kind of state of mind which contains thousands of opposite traits and behaviours. She has to dealing with voices in her head that arguing each another everytime. That’s why practical thinking is not her style, hence it doubles up the hardness of life for her. Poor soul.

The 22-year-old me still avoiding phone calls, messages, people; glitching from responsibilities; and escaping from real life. The 15-year-old her was ever composed a song titled “Escapist”, it tells about a person who doesn’t belong anywhere and can’t handle real life, and she still think that song compatible for her personal self even until now.

The 22-year-old me was longing for a perfect romance life, everyday, everytime, tho she never verbally admit it. Being in touch with the other one whom she considered as ‘boy’ or ‘guy’ makes her awkward hence this traits often translated as a ‘cold-and-cool-and-not-interested’ trait by the person she deeply longing. What an irony.

The 22 year-old me was ever felt so depressed that she nearly got her hands to alcohol can in the groceries and even keep eyes on which cigarettes to smoke. She never drink neither smoke before as it’s encounter her principles of life. But that depression almost eat her up to bones. Luckily, she then considered yoghurt and glico pocky tastes better than alcohol and cigarettes, so, well, attempt of rebellion: failed.

The 22-year-old me still speak to her imaginary friends. Yes, she has. And not only one but SIX instead. One of them is a wolf named Pandemonium and one other is Sora from Kingdom Hearts game. People might said that she is a schizoid because she talks to herself a lot as if she actually talks to a ‘friends’. And she refused to called them ‘imaginary friends’. “They are my guardian angels”, instead she replied.

Birthday is not her thing since 5 years ago. She loves a quiet and lonely birthday where everybody forget about it and behave like usual to her. She hates surprise or party or other kind of celebration because spotlight freaking her out and make her anxious.

And this birthday, too. Except she finally leaked it out by revealing her big wish on her instagram account, which her friends apparently recognized and makes it not a ‘quiet-birthday’ anymore. But this time, no problemo.

The 22-year-old me now have become a 23-year-old me today. As the 23-year-old approaching, she anxious a LOT. She hasn’t obtain a big and meaningful thing that she thought every 23’s people has to. “I will be 23 yet I’m still an useless potato, what should I do?!”, she mumbled panickly everyday since April began. But when the day come, peculiarly everything happens just like that. It’s not painful at all. Being 23-year-old feels strangely not different as being 22-year-old.

Being 23-year-old doesn’t mean that she have to evolved to become an extroverted, and stable, and rich, and wise either. I think, she will just stay this way. People change and her, too, will unnoticedly changes. It doesn’t matter the age. Age is just a number. But the process to be a mature person can’t be started or paused right away as if you’re installing a phone app. It happens as the time goes, slowly.

Happy Birthday to her.

She has a lot and numerous cool dreams to give up now so, 23, please be nice to her.

 

English · My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy · My Writer Side

Strive, Conquer, and Else

19a2efe1e928aa7c5bf885d0586772e8

Just everytime. I gets too emotional. Flood of Emotions.

A mental breakdown. Huge disappointment. Tired. Fear. Excite. Anger. Laugh. Perplexed.

Coward. Swirling. Comes gliding across the sky. Swim in the terrace. Knocking in. Bash the door.

Somehow a revelation. Awakening. Bright. Like a sun. Dancing. Shining. Shimmering.

The hope. The dreams. A good visualization in the head and mind. Flowing through the veins. Bringing all the life. Soul gets pumped. Energized.

I can’t really describe, nor giving example and illustration. It just…. something. Not losing nor gaining. Or maybe both losing and gaining.

I’m not talk in rhymes, not even trying. I just can’t figured out the order of the words. It’s messy right here. Everything is mixed. The colors blend into one. I’m blackout. Either full or blank. Or in between. Or none of those.

I listen to some songs. Not to facilitating the emotional conditions. Just needed some melodical tones. To make the colors less dark, to saturating. Merely as backsound. Eventho an unrelated backsound. The score director must be a worst one. I am the worst one.

Thus we catch the breath. Living in vacumm space. We scream, we light up. It’s undesirable, this kind of roaller coaster. All I can feel is just a banging head. Beating motion.

I’m in the middle of vertigo. Your eyes moves diagonally. Your voice draw a circular shape in the air. Try to catch it up, the hands grasp in between of tremors. I can’t, I said to you.

And I cry.

And I cry.

And I cry.

And the sea formed, hence we sail upon it.

Row, row, row.

Row, row, row.

 

 

 

 

Image credits to Jenny at Flickr.com

English · My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy

#Soliloquy about Outer World and Everything in Between

“Can’t you believe it? They’re just cramped me out.”

“I failed to see what’s you point. She said that you worth it and he said this is your time. “

“Exactly”

“You know what, you keep telling me about your dreams, each of them, until I got everything in my subconscious mind, then the earth give you exactly what you’ve been dreaming for and now you tried to evade them?”

“It just…. I don’t know whether it is right or it was merely me blinded by diamonds and pearls. Now I’m thinking about it and apparently it quite frightening.”

“Going out of your comfort zone always frightening, you asked for them first. Now I can’t understand.”

“I think I don’t want to go out.”

“Go out from where? You think you’re in it already? In your comfort zone? I can tell you how much you’ve been whinning to win my arguments but no, I’ll just reminds you that we’re on a same boat that sailing in the middle of stormy ocean, darling. No one of us is safe. What do you asking for?”

“I don’t know I’m so thrilled. Or perhaps it just because the hangover of Black Swan which I had been watched this evening. I understand the feeling when something that you’ve been longing forever makes you insane.”

“It draws you well?”

“It draws me well. Now I’m afraid of myself. I’m afraid of everything that I wanted. From the distance we can state an iceberg is enchanting until we come closer and collided and it becomes deadly.”

“You are afraid”

“I just not ready, I think.”

“No, you are afraid.”

“I’m so tired, can’t we just not talking about this?”

“Good, keep gliding out and you’ll never win”

“I don’t care. Good night, Darling. Here, listen the song I’ll be sleeping with tonight:”

English · My Chaotic Philosophy

I Don’t Need Butterflies Nor Roses

By the time I started fantasize about cotton candy cloud and rainbow bridge, I should zapped myself out of it, immediately. It’s not funny anymore and I’m not a little child anymore. And don’t tell me to grinning like an idiot, because I’m not a little girl anymore.

Warns and precautious spread all over the walls, I have already knew, I just didn’t took them seriously. Oh yeah, we can try endlessly but in the end we are wizards and witches in disguise. We were disgusted and mad and ready to pinpointed the wand on anybody else’s face, but, uh-oh, we ALL have a wand.

Come on, so tired of this game, don’t you too? Why cannot we ended this and pretending you never be a frog and I never be a lizard. We are not a little children playing with play-doh. We are mature witch and wizard with a full-power magical skills playing with each other’s awful emotions.

As it sounds as safe as it never be.