Category Archives: thoughts

making peace

the time has finally come – for you to face that big one. that major relationship that left an impact so devastating you thought it could never be sent to the folder where past experiences you’ve sorted through and moved on from reside.

you went to poke the beast. you always do. always in hope that the in between was enough time for the beast to transform into something else. something able to look you in the eyes and rise above together. because sometimes you are that beast. and all you need is time and bit of understanding to be ready to heal. some people say don’t bother. but that’s not who you are. you always try. it isn’t always the smartest thing, but you choose to anyways. until the chapter is over.

what transpired took you by surprise. because you thought you had an idea of how things might go either way. but once again, you overlooked all of reality to exist in your fantasy world where everyone wants to make peace. boy were you wrong. goddamn were you wrong.

it genuinely shocks you. you don’t know why. it really shouldn’t. but you really did not expect such a reaction. it sucks. you’d like for it not to, but it does. it’s sad that some things private and personal that you were or had divulged in a space you once considered safe could be used in such a way, twisted beyond recognition. violated. soiled. but you know the truth. and no one can take the truth away from you. 

it makes you think of the past and your journey. of all the years spent wandering about hurt, trying to find love. of all the loneliness. that dark cold loneliness you couldn’t run from no matter how much you tried. always right behind you. lurking in the silent corners of your mind.

you remember the family you once had. a lifetime ago (or so it seems), when you were safe and cherished and things were simple. you feel the inner panic of gradually losing that stable ground. the chaos that ensued as you tried to survive and the constant anxiety of having to – that only made you more needy and codependent.

it makes you think of all the people that crossed your path. those who were good for you. those that were bad. the handful you needed and hurt in the effort of finding your lost self. the stupid choices you made because you were so adamant on not giving a fuck that you chose not to even when you should have. even when you knew as sure as the sun is bright that you were walking into disaster.

you mentally hug your past self. you know how much she needs that compassion and strength with all the pain there was and all the pain to come. you feel melancholic, but more intensely at peace. because you know everything that’s happened has gotten you here. and even though you didn’t get here unscratched, you are so happy here. so very incredibly happy.

only you and you alone know how much effort it’s taken to free yourself from past trauma. to look yourself in the soul and come to terms with the choices you made and the things that happened for you.

and you know now – everything that happens, happens for you and not to you. never to you. and this just so happened to be the journey you needed to take towards self discovery, self worth and self love. because only through learning to love yourself could you then begin to love others the way you’ve always wanted to, with compassion and acceptance. to then create a family based on that truth, for the best odds at maintaining a loving space for your children to always count on.

to save them from what you went through.

you have always known the trigger point of everything falling apart. you set out to do different. it has always been that steady beacon of light. even when you lost your mind, you very much still had your sight. and you never gave in. you never let anything blacken your heart so much you couldn’t live with yourself. you just kept getting back up and moving forward, you warrior. you got here. you did it.

it took as much strength to power through the earlier pain as it did to be vulnerable and truthful in the healing process later on. you have by now forgiven yourself. and with this chapter coming to an end, you feel the remainder of sadness and pain of a time before start to fade as well.

so steady, as if it has been waiting to be set free. you hold on to it for just a little bit longer. a reminder of what made you YOU. a reminder that contained in that darkness was your greatest potential for light.

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Big 2

Truly, one of the best weeks of my life.

And it reminded me that we really do have the rest of our lives ahead of us and things are just beginning to get good. It’s always nice to have a renewed zest for life!

Okay. So I kiss boys.

Sometimes it really gets to me how fucked up the world has become. Or more accurately, how fucked up people in the world have become. A conversation I recently had with a friend made me realize that there really are double standards when it comes to people and sex. One that women are on the losing end of. If a man sleeps around, he’s a hero. If a girl does it, she’s instantly labelled a slut. 
Flirting’s alright, but when flirty women find themselves in an uncomfortable situation where sex is then “expected”, it’s their own doing. Something they should be held responsible for coz they instigated it. If they say no, they’re criticized for being a cock tease. And if they don’t, well, that takes us back to the whole “slut” thing, doesn’t it? Personally, I have been pressured into it and being the dumbshit that I am sometimes, I have on occasions just given in, only to loath myself afterwards.
Indirectly putting the blame of women is honestly something I myself have been guilty of doing. I constantly tell my more innocent or naive girlfriends that men are just built that way. That such an uncontrolled reaction is expected of them. That maybe they, as women, should have known better than to play with fire and then come back crying after getting burnt. But when did such rubbish become so acceptable, and more importantly, why?
Sex isn’t something that should be thrown around with such ease. I wish I had an understanding of that earlier on in life, when it would have mattered a whole lot more. I had to experience certain things and make my own mistakes in order to learn the lessons I have so painfully learnt. The reason I’m so protective over certain people is because I know firsthand of the horrors life has to offer and I would never want them to go through half the things I have. 
It bothers me that if I were to ever have children, this is the world I am bringing them into. It bothers me that no matter how much I’d try to protect them, I would never be able to shelter them completely from what is simply, the harsh reality of life. It bothers me that instead of looking for a solution, the majority of people are just adding to the crap that already is.
I know I’m going to receive a mix reaction to this post. But I can’t just shut up when someone I love is hurting because a man could not, for lack of a better term, keep it in his pants. Rape isn’t something anyone could ever ask for and if we don’t start trying to fix this flaw we have created, we’re directly responsible for the stolen innocence of an increasing number of victims out there.

Obsessive Compulsive

Many people might not know, but I have always been a little OCD. It has faded away over time, especially over the past few years, but it’s taken some effort to get here. 
I’ve always liked (maybe even needed) balance. Whenever I accidentally touched something with my right hand, I’d have to touch it with my left hand too. Or if I kicked my left toe into a chair and it hurt, I’d have to do it with my right toe to get the same amount of pain. Getting up from the sofa and walking around the table to get something, I’d make it a point to walk around the other side of the table to get back to the sofa. And if I didn’t, I’d get up and walk around and back on the opposite side so that I would have passed both sides the equal amount of times.

I’ve also been pretty OCD with numbers. I like 3 and most multiples of 3 and I absolutely can not stand the number 4 (accept in 24, because it’s 8 x 3). It used to be so bad that if there was something I wanted to buy, and it came in a set of 4, I wouldn’t buy it, or I’d purposely lose (throw away) one, so that I would be left with 3. 

Although I can’t fully confirm why multiples of 3 appeal to me so much, I believe that it’s partially due to the fact that I was born on the 18th of September. Must have set in without me realizing it because I can’t remember far back enough to a time when I didn’t think 1809 was a very balance, pretty number. 
Over time, I forced myself to stop being so OCD about touching and walking around things. I’d purposely touch an object with one hand then sit still and force myself not to do anything with the other, despite how hard it was. And while I don’t think I have issues in buying things in fours now, my favouritism towards certain numbers has stuck.
I wouldn’t have thought about it if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m turning 24 this year. The biggest milestones in life (I feel) have always somehow been coordinated with the numbers I like. At 18, it was freedom from school. At 21, it was being completely legal and not having to worry about parental consent. And I always thought I’d get married at 24. My mum did it at that age, and I guess I grew up thinking that was the time for it to happen.
Now that I’m turning 24 this year and I’m nowhere near marriage, it’s made me reevaluate myself and think about the future. I don’t think I’ve given much thought to what I’d do with the rest of my life (after turning 24) if I didn’t already have a  husband and soon-to-be family to dedicate myself to. It’s definitely a little scary because I feel like 24 is the cut of point for stupidity and I should be smart enough to at least make proper decisions (most of the time) by the end of this year.
Maybe the world ending in 2012 isn’t such a bad thing. I’ve never hated the idea of it. In fact if it does happen, I would probably embrace it with open arms. But then again, the logical side of me fully doubts the possibility of an Apocalypse. I guess I’ll just have to try my hardest to get things right and then hope for the best.
By this time next year, I would have already passed the next milestone and I guess I’ll know how I feel about life after 24 then. Not sure if I’m looking forward to or dreading that day, but bring it on!

Guggenheim

I dreamt of my grandmother, knocking on the door. She was lightheaded again, and I helped her to the bed.

I dreamt I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to grab something quick for her to eat. My dad was there, making a drink.
I dreamt I turned around and saw my mum (a little confusing), she asked me if I didn’t expect to see her there. 
I dreamt my brother drove up to the backdoor so we could get to the clinic. 
I dreamt I had something to eat, then panicked about it because I was breaking my diet. 
I dreamt I met his family (even though I don’t have a clue what they look like). His mum was nice to me.
I dreamt everything was alright again, and we all went back to the hall.
Hopes. Fears. Expectations. 
The many things that must be on the back of my mind. Things I try my best not to pay attention to.
I dreamt I saw my mum and dad hugging. It felt awkward that they weren’t awkward with each other. Heck, it felt awkward that they were within reaching distance of each other.
I still fail to see the purpose of dreaming. It’s all this false happiness/fear. Then I wake up, and nothing, not one thing, is any different. My feelings get jumbled up and tossed around for no purpose at all. 
Why can’t I dream of candyland or some shit like that? 

After all, it’s way more realistic than me waking up at home to a family again -_______-“