emo ponderings. must be that time of the month soon.
What I am about to write, even I don’t even know. I opened up the document with the intent of pouring out all my emotions and thoughts, yet it has been 5 minutes of me just staring at this blank page. Where do I start? Where do I want to go? How should I get there?
Let me first ask what “success” is. The answer varies from person to person depending on their values. On the surface, success to me is college degree, some sort of doctor degree, job, money, and good health to enjoy the wealth. I dig my brains for other options, other goals that pave the way towards this “success,” but unfortunately, I find nothing else. I am disappointed.
We all have material things we want in life. I want that pretty pair of shoes, that lacey dress, that newest gadget. It’s always want, want, and more want. I want to go to Korea. I want to visit Japan. I want to go scuba diving in Australia and walk the Great Wall. These things, are they necessary for survival? Will a nice dress help me live, or will a warm jacket help me live? Is touring the world and seeing new things so important? One may argue that it is not life if you don’t really live. It’s not about the years in your life but the life in your years. That sort of stuff.
But what good is it to live if you’re not physically alive? If you’re on the verge of death, what good is a nice looking outfit? What good is the newest and smallest smart phone? I looked back on what I’ve spent on myself these past few weeks and realized I’m spending my parent’s money on things that are not necessary for “survival”. T-shirt, snacks, other clothes, and more snacks. There is this certain need to “enjoy” and have more than just the basics. Pretty clothes, high-end products, etc. We have a jacket. Now we want a pretty jacket.
And why do we want to look “pretty”? Why is it that I check the way I look before leaving the house? That I make sure I’m “nicely” dressed, that I’m disappointed with the way I look every time I look at my face and body in the mirror because I know I’m less than perfect? “Beauty always lies elsewhere” is what I tend to think. Who am I showing this beauty to anyways? Classmates? Friends? The general public? Why is it that we need their attention and words? Are we defined by how they think of us or how we think of ourselves? Why don’t we know our own worth and always need the general public to slap a meaning on for us? It’s frustrating when I constantly feel like a hypocrite for attempting to look “pretty”, failing, accepting that I’ll never be like “that”, and knowing that all this “pretty” thought is quite shallow.
Envy. Roy Mustang held down the little green creature and said it looked ugly. “Envy means jealousy, and jealousy is an ugly thing.” I couldn’t agree more. I look a friend’s life and see how everything flows so well for her, how her problems always works out, how she’s always happy, how it’s so seemingly perfect. A people person, a smart student, a strong will, a daring personality, beauty, and fashion sense. She does what she wants, thinks what she wants, and says what she wants. And then I feel jealous, tremendously so. My blood would boil in hate and anger. Poisonous bile would threaten to rise up in my throat. So I bite back my tongue to control my rage. At these moments, I feel so disappointed in myself. Disappointed that I’m not better, disappointed that I’m hating a perfectly innocent person who I used to love.
And when I reach out for help, when I ask for a shoulder, and when I need a hug, who will be there? Who will be there to comfort? Who will be there to lend a hand? Who will be there to listen? Listening. When I speak, it seems like no one hears me lately. Fragile sentences spew from my mouth only to be knocked down by someone else’s harsh words. Is its intent to hurt an already hurt person? Maybe there’s no response because I haven’t spoke up. Maybe I haven’t spoken up because I know there’s no audience.
One year in college hasn’t made me any stronger. Yes I’m taking care of my own bills, yes I’m taking control of my education, and yes I’m actually cooking. Despite this independence that I’ve gained, I am not any more mature, not any more in “control”. On the contrary, I find myself more weak, and I hate the fact that I am. I would like to be a stronger and better person. I would like to be
Let me first ask what “success” is. The answer varies from person to person depending on their values. On the surface, success to me is college degree, some sort of doctor degree, job, money, and good health to enjoy the wealth. I dig my brains for other options, other goals that pave the way towards this “success,” but unfortunately, I find nothing else. I am disappointed.
We all have material things we want in life. I want that pretty pair of shoes, that lacey dress, that newest gadget. It’s always want, want, and more want. I want to go to Korea. I want to visit Japan. I want to go scuba diving in Australia and walk the Great Wall. These things, are they necessary for survival? Will a nice dress help me live, or will a warm jacket help me live? Is touring the world and seeing new things so important? One may argue that it is not life if you don’t really live. It’s not about the years in your life but the life in your years. That sort of stuff.
But what good is it to live if you’re not physically alive? If you’re on the verge of death, what good is a nice looking outfit? What good is the newest and smallest smart phone? I looked back on what I’ve spent on myself these past few weeks and realized I’m spending my parent’s money on things that are not necessary for “survival”. T-shirt, snacks, other clothes, and more snacks. There is this certain need to “enjoy” and have more than just the basics. Pretty clothes, high-end products, etc. We have a jacket. Now we want a pretty jacket.
And why do we want to look “pretty”? Why is it that I check the way I look before leaving the house? That I make sure I’m “nicely” dressed, that I’m disappointed with the way I look every time I look at my face and body in the mirror because I know I’m less than perfect? “Beauty always lies elsewhere” is what I tend to think. Who am I showing this beauty to anyways? Classmates? Friends? The general public? Why is it that we need their attention and words? Are we defined by how they think of us or how we think of ourselves? Why don’t we know our own worth and always need the general public to slap a meaning on for us? It’s frustrating when I constantly feel like a hypocrite for attempting to look “pretty”, failing, accepting that I’ll never be like “that”, and knowing that all this “pretty” thought is quite shallow.
Envy. Roy Mustang held down the little green creature and said it looked ugly. “Envy means jealousy, and jealousy is an ugly thing.” I couldn’t agree more. I look a friend’s life and see how everything flows so well for her, how her problems always works out, how she’s always happy, how it’s so seemingly perfect. A people person, a smart student, a strong will, a daring personality, beauty, and fashion sense. She does what she wants, thinks what she wants, and says what she wants. And then I feel jealous, tremendously so. My blood would boil in hate and anger. Poisonous bile would threaten to rise up in my throat. So I bite back my tongue to control my rage. At these moments, I feel so disappointed in myself. Disappointed that I’m not better, disappointed that I’m hating a perfectly innocent person who I used to love.
And when I reach out for help, when I ask for a shoulder, and when I need a hug, who will be there? Who will be there to comfort? Who will be there to lend a hand? Who will be there to listen? Listening. When I speak, it seems like no one hears me lately. Fragile sentences spew from my mouth only to be knocked down by someone else’s harsh words. Is its intent to hurt an already hurt person? Maybe there’s no response because I haven’t spoke up. Maybe I haven’t spoken up because I know there’s no audience.
One year in college hasn’t made me any stronger. Yes I’m taking care of my own bills, yes I’m taking control of my education, and yes I’m actually cooking. Despite this independence that I’ve gained, I am not any more mature, not any more in “control”. On the contrary, I find myself more weak, and I hate the fact that I am. I would like to be a stronger and better person. I would like to be