This is still my corner
I have been away from this blog for so long that I had almost forgotten how to post here, but this is still my corner. And I'm pretty sure that I would have very few friends left here who still check this page, or even their feeds. So I'm happy with that, this solace.
My other online accounts - Twitter, Facebook, Buhay Kuneho, pinterest - are so public, and as such, never really represent the real person at the keyboard. My clients are there, and so are my "friends" who have little to no tolerance of sadness, of my hidden insecurities, or of my wounds; nobody ever wants to see you sad there. Nobody ever has any tolerance of the reality of a person there. You're supposed to put on a show. Sing, dance, make merry, and pretend that, despite all statistical and logical possibility that everything is good ALL THE TIME. Never a bad word about anything or anyone, or they'll judge you as though they crafted you from wood and wires, call you "emo" and "drama queen". It's no wonder suicide rates are climbing - nobody's willing to be a real person anymore, for fear of people.
So this is my spot. You can unfriend if you like, but while I am not a negative person, I do have negative moments, and I think I need someplace to be negative. As a woman in publicity and promotions I'm on 98.9% of the time. I have to smile, laugh, make people comfortable, be kind and understanding even when nobody ever is, and never falter. Yeah, good luck with that. I manage. But at home you can't be sad either, they'll worry, or if you live with someone like my brother, they'll call you stupid and crazy and immediately decide you're worthless and that you never have a proper idea in your head.
I need this spot. I need to be sad SOMEWHERE where there's a tiny chance of someone hearing me and maybe even passingly care that this is happening.
The past few years, while they've had their highlights, have not been easy. I tried to find help, you know - it's not like I'm not aware it's a problem. I went to a friend, one of the few I really trust, and I told her that I am so very very angry and I would like to stop but don't know how. I told her that even though I wouldn't admit it, I always just wanted to die. I live daily just wanting to get shot or get run over. I have moments when I start to do something about it and I have to exert an effort to stop. I don't think about killing myself because that's my normal state - I have to fight against it every day. I force myself to think about living, and about doing better, and about how I have to keep going. And it makes me so mad. I find myself hating myself for not going through with it. I hate myself for not having the balls to carry it out - it should be simple enough, shouldn't it? Why can't I even get that right? Why can't I get anything right?
You know what she said? She said, "So? E ako nga, ... " and she went on to tell me of her troubles, all of which she had ranted about before. All of which I have stood by her and nodded and been supportive and not once mentioned that I was having a hard time too. And sometimes it makes me think that maybe I deserve this kind of behavior, this, "who are you anyway" treatment. What if they're right? Who am i anyway?
I'm nothing special. I've achieved nothing of note. I don't even earn well. I'm socially awkward...I'm so ashamed of myself and everything I am that I've given up on working in a company. I'm trying to get by in a way where no one will have to endure my presence for longer than they have to.
I don't know what to do but I keep trying, and it seems so stupid to keep going. But I do. But I pray every day that someday I'll grow a spine and do what's right. Because even if I try every day to make up for my existence, fact is, it doesn't count for anything. I'm so sorry, world.
My other online accounts - Twitter, Facebook, Buhay Kuneho, pinterest - are so public, and as such, never really represent the real person at the keyboard. My clients are there, and so are my "friends" who have little to no tolerance of sadness, of my hidden insecurities, or of my wounds; nobody ever wants to see you sad there. Nobody ever has any tolerance of the reality of a person there. You're supposed to put on a show. Sing, dance, make merry, and pretend that, despite all statistical and logical possibility that everything is good ALL THE TIME. Never a bad word about anything or anyone, or they'll judge you as though they crafted you from wood and wires, call you "emo" and "drama queen". It's no wonder suicide rates are climbing - nobody's willing to be a real person anymore, for fear of people.
So this is my spot. You can unfriend if you like, but while I am not a negative person, I do have negative moments, and I think I need someplace to be negative. As a woman in publicity and promotions I'm on 98.9% of the time. I have to smile, laugh, make people comfortable, be kind and understanding even when nobody ever is, and never falter. Yeah, good luck with that. I manage. But at home you can't be sad either, they'll worry, or if you live with someone like my brother, they'll call you stupid and crazy and immediately decide you're worthless and that you never have a proper idea in your head.
I need this spot. I need to be sad SOMEWHERE where there's a tiny chance of someone hearing me and maybe even passingly care that this is happening.
The past few years, while they've had their highlights, have not been easy. I tried to find help, you know - it's not like I'm not aware it's a problem. I went to a friend, one of the few I really trust, and I told her that I am so very very angry and I would like to stop but don't know how. I told her that even though I wouldn't admit it, I always just wanted to die. I live daily just wanting to get shot or get run over. I have moments when I start to do something about it and I have to exert an effort to stop. I don't think about killing myself because that's my normal state - I have to fight against it every day. I force myself to think about living, and about doing better, and about how I have to keep going. And it makes me so mad. I find myself hating myself for not going through with it. I hate myself for not having the balls to carry it out - it should be simple enough, shouldn't it? Why can't I even get that right? Why can't I get anything right?
You know what she said? She said, "So? E ako nga, ... " and she went on to tell me of her troubles, all of which she had ranted about before. All of which I have stood by her and nodded and been supportive and not once mentioned that I was having a hard time too. And sometimes it makes me think that maybe I deserve this kind of behavior, this, "who are you anyway" treatment. What if they're right? Who am i anyway?
I'm nothing special. I've achieved nothing of note. I don't even earn well. I'm socially awkward...I'm so ashamed of myself and everything I am that I've given up on working in a company. I'm trying to get by in a way where no one will have to endure my presence for longer than they have to.
I don't know what to do but I keep trying, and it seems so stupid to keep going. But I do. But I pray every day that someday I'll grow a spine and do what's right. Because even if I try every day to make up for my existence, fact is, it doesn't count for anything. I'm so sorry, world.