???????

When there isn't a single component of your awfully jaded life that is even near to what is decent or should I say, the "norm". Boy, you are definitely in deep and nasty shit more or less your entire life. But hey, don't feel TOO bad. I can absolutely relate to what you guys are experiencing. So I guess we can conclude that.. WE ARE NOT ALONE. Just about now, I have encountered yet another flagrant duel with an endangered specie more familiar in the name of "my-big-sister". Sheessshhh. Can't I just have one calm and peaceful week? Okay. Now enough shit about my existing oh-so-eccentric life. I am not the complaining kind. I may be (pardon for my excessive honesty) a bit off to what we are familiar with as sane. But I'm the type who simply deals with what is given. And handle it the best one can possibly could. Now sharing what's inside my big head doesn't necessarily translate into complaining, does it?

In my recent post.. Uh. As uncomfortable as it is for me to say this. But ummmm. *fidgeting with my chocolate-covered fingernails* I literally had a relapse. FYI: for new readers, I am in no way an addict or an alcoholic or whatever. I am just a simple 19 year old barely-a-woman suffering with a serious case of mestasized and pulvurized brain, heart and soul caused by nonetheless the four letter word that happens to be the universe's biggest evil. I assume I just acted a bit way too over my crazy head and slowly became too damn sure of my delusional self. And you know what the worst part is? Among all bonkers combined.. This cuckoo should have known better.

Well, I don't really know where this post is heading. And quite frankly, neither do I really care. I'm just letting my fingers flow over random letters. Letting words fly out of my unscrewed mind. But really though.. Where the hell is this going? Where am I?

It's 12:01 in the morning. And I'm here. Breathing? Yes. Alive? I highly doubt. Dead? Now we're talking.

Relapse

I've always wanted to freeze time. Have control over any hasty blink. Be able to see every underneath depth of every surface worth remembering. It is verily a regretful loss. I can only hope I had rewarded all of my senses a bit more time to absorb and lock much as it can- while it still could. My conscience keeps on hovering my thoughts. It pushes me to dilatorily realize that missing a nanosecond of any of my daily cursory sights would be one of my life's great losses- perhaps even the greatest. And to top off this unforgiving sundae of pure despondency, there is nothing more I could do to get those back. I wish I had considered every single glance of even the blurriest of these facades a second and deeper look. But a lost time is as good as a lost breath. Second breaths are never the same. It keeps us alive, but never guarantees complete relief. Though, who says preceding breaths can't be better? I know I didn't.

As living creatures with needs, when human nature creeps in, voluntarily or against our will, instincts get the best of us.

I have written lots of rejects these past couple of days. I couldn't pull anything in me that would make myself want to share this ridiculously shameful relapses I'm having. I feel so bad exposing this. I feel so weak. I know I'm not making any sense right now. But I'm trying my very best to scrape even the thinnest layer of hope that I have to continue moving on. This post may seem quite vague and pointless. But let me tell you.. This is the closest I've been to progress. Like what I said, in a more conforming term, I had a relapse. And currently just getting back up my callused feet again. Don't you worry! I'll be posting more often and release some of this auspicious aura one painful layer at a time.

Step One

They say happiness is a choice. It is an impunity option. Anyone can be happy if they choose to be. There is this sheer wall dividing the right-choice and the right-choice-for-YOU. 'Cause let's face it, we can never in a gazillion trillion years please each and every nosy spectator surrounding us. The only and single person we have to constantly check up on, whether he or she is genuinely happy, is ourselves. As for those no-better ass wipes intrusively breathing down our necks, screw you! Let us live our lives the way we want to. If we fall down and fuck up, don't worry.. We'll never get tired of getting up and learning.

For a delusional weirdo like me, keeping the mood and energy in tact is something I have to steadily keep up. I believe both hidden and evident depression is contagious. Though there are really ineludible phases that cannot be avoided. The tumult and chaos within us that we keep on sweeping underneath the rugs needs come out eventually. And trust me, when it does.. You'd be inhaling the purest and the most appeasing breath you have taken in a long time.

Hi! Was I convincing?!? Looool :) See. I can be optimistic if I want to- if I choose to. That's why I'm trying out this new theory of mine I call.. Step 1: Thinking leads to Acting. Being this shamefully sad, doesn't necessarily mean I can't act happy, can I? I am not doing this to deceive anyone. Not even pretend to be someone I'm not. I just got tired. Sick and disgusted to the person I almost had become. I barely recognized myself. Now. Enough icky stuff! Let us all start thinking happy and jaunty thoughts! Let's start there, and hopefully, these hooking smiles pay off :)

HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY!!!! - Stimpy (Ren and Stimpy)

Daymare

A single night's worth dream is powerful. It is more than competent of controlling a certain part of you. Either how you would typically start when dawn begins to crack, how you withstand the remaining fraction of your day, or how you'll wrap up everything else 'til the sun sets. It can administer a significant fragment of your being without you even noticing it. When your consciousness hits you, the first words that would be coming out of your mouth are, "What the hell was I thinking?!?". Yep. You'd be the last one to be surprised by the results of all the impulsive decisions you've made. Both the rewarding good and the unforgivable bad. There's just comes a time in our awfully fickle lives when the only thing predictable is that things were always were, are, and will forever be UNpredictable.

I have been dreaming the same exact dream for the last couple of days. (Considering the times of seeing him even when awake) Now these, shall I say, symbolic trances must only mean two things. First, whatever sign it is the Big Guy's trying to tell me, oh god-forbid, I do not know how much more of it I could take. Believe me, I'd be happier seeing Freddy Krueger next to my bed. (On second thought, Hell nooooooooooooo. I am kidding) But still, it really is beyond painful.. And the final and only option.... It's either I have completely and utterly lost my fucking mind!!!!!

What do dreams mean? And FYI, Daymares exist!!!!!

Desideratum

REMINDER: (Search for the meaning of the title, guys. I came across this word while reading and it stuck-out. And I've never forgotten it since)


Have you ever stood in front of a mirror and say with the absolute confidence, "I am happy". Not delivering a "contented enough" assertion, not a "just satisfied". But, with the utmost doubt-free inhale of jovial breaths, an "I am happy". Declaring these words is my ultimate goal in life. I presume it is an international, global, universal perhaps galactic desiderata. It sums up every possible fundamental component of whatever it is that I'd be pursuing in the coming future. I would know that wherever I am, from whatever I may be having for dinner, to however I am managing my daily struggles for survival, when there is a genuine smile on this aging face, these questions are nevertheless irrelevant.

Based on my 19 years of delving for the route straight to ever-after-land, I have come to this remarkable I-know-it's-bogus-kinds-of-happiness-but-you're-going-to-read-it-anyway bullet. There are three kinds of happiness. First, the annoyingly over-rated I-am-happy-ENOUGH. I give snaps for people who freely choose to fall under this. These are individuals who unfortunately just settle. They seemingly give up on the hunt in finding the "real thing". But who could blame them? If I knew it would hurt this bad to pursue that bullshit "real thing" and lose it, I MAY (extra emphasis on MAY) have considered this. (After a couple more seconds of contemplating....) (Neeh! I would have done the same exact things a gazillion folds over.) Next is the infamous as-long-as-I'm-happy-NOW. Yep. I hear a lot of guilty hearts beating extra hard now. If you are one of these felons, you all are pretty much aware of what I'm talking about. Okay, I will not be attempting to even touch the insurmountable and sugar-coat facts. These are agile runners. The I-can-always-do-better citizens of this world. They are equipped with speed and dexterity handy for their often spontaneous escapes. They are agonizingly frisky. Some just literally run, and run, and RUN. Lastly, the holy Grail of all happiness, the you-don't-have-to-say-you're-happy-because-you-know-you-already-ARE. Need I to say more? When we find that one thing or one person who'll be the sole grounds of our happiness, in whatever form, shape or even specie, the only thing we'd have to voluntarily work on is keeping that behalf experience the same ultimately gratifying feeling we all want and deserve.

A piece of advice to those who found and lost happiness. For those who victoriously have a hold on their happiness right at this very moment, whether it would be an object placed at your lap, or a person whom with your hands are intertwined, I am happy for you. You are the reason why I am still a faithful believer. To Him and to my future him. And ofcourse, forevermore, to us, the "introspectively challenged". It is hard. We know that. But do we accept it? Things will never get easier. Despite the perplexity of what's inside our clouded heads now, yes it's full of bitter shit, but what we are doing is digging our graves deeper unto the relentless dirt undeserving people buried us in. We'll find ours soon enough. So instead of carrying a shovel over our backs, why not a big ass magnifying glass? And oh, why not throw in a pack of Butterfingers? We could all use a dose of feel-good endorphins.

As you can tell, I am in a better mood today. A better mood than any day since I died. Well metaphorically, since I temporarily stopped living. Most probably, when my clouded head starts to clear again, and this sugar-high starts to wear off, I'd be back again to the same dire spot. Just thinking about it now begins to suck the "mock-vigor" I'm desprately trying to exude. What the hell! Atleast I know I'm not fooling anyone, most especially, not myself.

What am I doing? What am I going to do? What can I do? What should I do?

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Well there goes my near effective "mock-vigor" down the fucking drain. -.-

Nostalgia At Its Peak

I woke up last night desperately gasping for air. I was literally like an innocent fish taken out of water. Puffing air ravenously for my very life.  It's the same feeling you get when you force yourself to stay under water until just about the very last second that your physical body would allow you to. Not really a feeling to be ecstatic about. It is another wake up call reminding me that no matter how audacious I am, how viciously I try to fight for something, there are certain alive and inanimate things in life that cannot be defied.

I remember quite a discrete portion of my dream.  Perhaps a futile attempt of my nostalgic yearning. I saw him. And it was not a pleasant view. All the actualities that I hid and buried came back all at the same time. The clashing of why's and how-could-he's smacked me right in the face. Strikes and blows that I wish I had the strength to evade.

I was cut soul-deep. Helplessly pierced right through the core. I am bleeding ceaselessly. Leaving a trail of somber and solitude wherever I go. It marks the spots where all these agony has reached and conquered.

And the most crazy part of this ridiculously bleak melancholy-filled post, my diminishing ego put aside, I wholeheartedly know and believe that it is still him and only him who could indubitably end all these pain.

Yes. I know what all of you are thinking. How could I possibly be this gullible? What the hell's wrong with you, Rose? Oh believe me.. I ask myself the same question every single excruciating day.

My Epiphany

A wise professor of mine once said, (in her very effective you-better-listen-and-you-better-listen-real-good tone) "A mistake can only be called a mistake if you don't learn from it.". Ingenius huh? I bet Thomas Edison and all the other greats of the world knew that. Perhaps lived their wondrous lives around it. Well then there you go people of this shallow world! The answer to all our inevitable dilemmas. ..... Yeah yeah.. Who the hell are we kidding? We all wish life was that fucking easy.

I have made a fistful of "mistakes" in my infamous 19 years. A couple of f-ed up ones awake and dead. Some that no one couldn't translate into anything else but stupidity. But the most awfully moronic among them all are caused by the biggest fugitive that is the root of all female related evil-- estrogen.

Do you ever wonder how these so called "oopsies" impact others? How our everyday decisions contribute to either a benefit or damage to another human being? Another breathing, thinking rational living thing. I for one rather not know. It's hard enough to think about how to deal with current dreadful shortcomings. Adding something to be guilty about is out of the question. You may say that it's okay to condescend once in awhile. But this is just too much for an "on the edge" 19 year old lassie to handle.

In a way, minimal or major, we are all fugitives. Guilty of hurting others (intentionally or not). That's just how things work. Based on a single day's realisation. I have come to this groundbreaking conclusion: When cards are folded, and we ran out of chips to play, majority of us choose to fleet. Dash away as fast as we could-- as if we'll never reach anything. We'd run away from the blame-- from sharing the pain. We can deny it as much as we want. That's what we are. Agile vagabonds who are most scared of nonetheless, ourselves.

To us who are left behind.

A stranger (literally) just told me (approximately a couple of hours ago) that this would make me a better person. Well for one right this second, I don't feel any nearer to a better me. But hey, it's worth giving a try. (And it's like I have any other choice) I opt to be my own catalyst. Start a movement towards moving on. Now all I have to do is wait. Pause and abide for someone who will accompany me through this current bullshit phase. Someone insane who'll make me believe in love again. Some demented dude who will go "all in" not in games, but just for crazy old me :)

Why?

Missing a loved one (current or former, which ever fits you) is the most grusome among all tortures in life- combined. I just couldn't think of anything more intolerable. Yeah I can take a few punches here and there. But this? Fuck no. This made me realize the benefits of euthanasia. It's when death suddenly becomes a logical option. It's the only solution in putting an end to egregious pain. In the end, what seemed to be inhumane before, instantly turns into an antidote to undying suffering.

How often do you cry? Do you even cry at all? If you haven't, I pity you yet I envy you at the same time. I feel sorry for you for the fact that you will sob a couple of times eventually, whether you dodge it all your life, trust me, you will. And when the dreaded time comes and you do finally tear up, you'd say that Rose was dead on correct. I envy you. Because you'd still live as if you will never be touched, never feel pain. You will still live life fully. Without caution, without looking back. It is a dangerous life to live but it sure as hell one of the happiest times you'll ever be. Well just for now I guess..

I miss him. Not constantly.. But all the friggin time. The very drop of every tear. Every strike of pain. I'd be more than glad to endure just to get a glimpse of his face, hear his laugh, feel his touch.

Why can't I make that first step? Why the hell can't I escape? Why do I still cry myself to sleep? Why am I this fucking naive? Why do I, despite EVERYTHING, still love him with every ounce of my everything?