Today I woke up and couldn’t get myself up. I just wanted to hide in a corner and not see anybody, but there’s nowhere to hide. I want to disappear, or vanish, or turn into bubbles and dive into the ocean whatsoever.
Honesty is brutal. Honesty kills. I feel like shit whenever I’m honest with myself and kills someone with it. And I can’t hide it, I always have a need to talk about this, about what’s in my head, with a sheer hope that someone will stay despite knowing all that. But it drags people down with me, and I can’t help but pushing them further from me.
And I cried a lot. For why God knows. I don’t know. I did because I had to let it out. To feel miserable. To qualify my notfeelingokay.
Afterwards, I feel sorry, I feel bad, I feel unsure and I feel regret. But then it hits me what an addict I am. There’s no rehab for this shit, or else I would be in one for the rest of my life. I always don’t believe nor like people who act poorly and then brush it all off with sorrys, yet here I am being anything but better than them. Such a hypocrite.
Well, I washed my face and decided to go to work instead of being an emo bitch, because I’m tired of that shit.
I can’t talk about it because if I talk about it that means it matters. If it matters that means it’s real, and if it’s real that means it’s going to hurt.
I’m not feeling any emotions right now, or else only a thin thread of mellow sadness. It’s just empty, nothing. I read again all those things that I wrote and I still remember the feelings I had writing them, or even actions. But after reading, I still feel nothing. Not a thing. Maybe because too much happened andy brain is still processing all of them. I don’t know. Maybe because I realized I haven’t been thinking about myself a lot lately and now I’m unconsciously trying to think about it.
So, hmm, I guess I will write about one thing that just came to my mind. That I am not special. Or I am special, just like everybody else. There are plenty of fish in the sea and there are plenty of ‘me’ in the world.
Then, hm, I thought about why I can never make a decision when it involves me and another person, especially when that’s someone I care about. 80% is because I want the best for them, therefore, I can handle anything that they choose, even with knowing that I will suffer a lot. It’s willing anyways. 20% is that I’m afraid of showing how I truly feel. If I choose, I get exposed, and I’m shy, I am not used to that. Coward.
What’s next? I haven’t met my other self recently. I’m not sure if she’s gone or she has slowly become me. Or she’s sneaking behind me and controlling my thoughts. Wait, let me introduce you to her, sorry.
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As I grew up, I started to feel that there’s one part of my mind that operates on its own.
Think about it this way: I will call this part The Storage. In it is everything that I have learned/been taught/gained/realized while .. living. For example, the first column has a list of all the ethics that I have been taught, ethics 1 2 3 4 … one after another. Second column lie all the social norms that I have known so far. Third one includes all the reasons/motivations behind actions that I’ve realized through experience, movies, books or other sources. Even more than these, but basically all of them are logical and rational. And The Storage’s database is so huge. Enough for it to function well on its own.
The other part of me is just.. me. With everything that The Storage has, plus my personalities, my reactions, my way of thinking…
And it goes like this. For instance, I need to borrow a pen from a boy that I like. I might think to myself that I need a pen with ink and I should ask this boy because he happens to sit next to me, and there’s no harm in it anyways. Then, I borrow the pen. Right after I borrow it, she (Storage) will tell me that I don’t really need that pen, I have a pencil and I can make do with it, that I’m fine without an ink pen. And I only do that mostly because I like that boy.
This happens in every action and decision that I made. All the time, like I was living in 2 parallel universes at the same time. But in 2 recent years, I haven’t felt her presence that strong. I’m not sure if that means I have become more rational and logical, though I feel so. I have a clearer thought about almost everything. That bitch might not be around for long, I kinda miss her. Or I might have become the bitch already.
Lại là cảm giác ấy, cái cảm giác ngồn ngộn ở lồng ngực. Cứ khi nào có chuyện gì đó mà mình không giải quyết được, hoặc không thể rũ bỏ khỏi trí não được, thì họng mình sẽ ứ lại và bụng mình sẽ cồn sóng. Là cảm giác thật sự chứ không phải là diễn tả văn vẻ gì đâu. Có lần mình đã miêu tả nó như thể có hàng nghìn con sâu đang quặn trong bụng, trào lên cổ nhưng nhất quyết không chui ra. Kiểu vậy đó…
Mỗi lần như vậy mình lại phải hít thật sâu và thở ra thật mạnh, như thể cứ phải như vậy thì mình mới tống cổ đi được một ít.
