Honesly Why do I try

This resemblance was taken 2 weeks ago. Everything is temporary Syaz. Even memories can get stolen. Remember that.

I wish for the same thing now that I wished for when I was seventeen. But things didn’t work out. I probably should have taken the hint the first time I was replaced. How could someone so in demand ever be mine? It was selfish of me, and more importantly, I wasn’t wanted. The keyword: not needed. I’m not questioning why I’m attracted to the same kind of people who couldn’t give me the love I needed. I can’t impose the burden of my childhood neglect onto someone who has their own traumas. The same reason a daughter struggles to find peace with her mother is exactly why it’s pointless to try. I was on the verge of losing myself, sacrificing my desires to create a family that mirrored the broken one I grew up in. I had so much to say to him—that’s the pronoun I’m using.

I was naive about so many things, and that should have not been just the first sign, but the only one I needed. Why was it so hard to accept that I wasn’t enough? I didn’t come from their womb. I’m not biologically related. If I’m not enough, why do I keep staying? There’s a difference between desperation and sheer foolishness. Replay all those memories in your mind—every time you wished it was kind, but it was only kind in front of an audience, or so it seemed. It was a constant struggle to feel understood. Only when a contract got involved did things start to show. I accept that I’m always going to be hated. I accept that I’m difficult, impossible, and embarrassing. I am nowhere near perfect. It was a constant struggle to stay well-behaved, to not become a villain. It was painful because I wanted to live by their rules, but there were too many, and I was never wise enough to make progress.

They said everything they could, and when it was my turn to speak, all I could do was repeat the things they had drilled into me subconsciously. This might look like I’m playing the victim, but if I’m not a victim, then who is? This is my story, my experience. My feelings are valid, even though they make me feel small. Do I want to recover? I do, but how? This life feels like it wasn’t made for me, like it’s just a platform for others to use and move on from. My weaknesses have caused so much sorrow that it’s starting to feel like I might as well be gone. I miss my Stitch. He was so cute. Why did I have to hurt him?

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thanks

I wanna thank my friends for disposing of me. I always felt like a burden around everyone. It feels very liberating to free myself from that state of mind. 

28's going to be the year my brain's gon be fully developed. I pray that it uses its capacity to continue to learn and unlearn whatever's necessary. It isn't your fault, the space provided was the best you could have. This is how I'll take care of myself, not push myself too hard emotionally. I am terrified of breaking down. Yes, it's important to get uncomfortable but not break down. 

I see things with my own true lens and I see people are not kind because they want to be kind but because it benefits them. My idealistic views on the world have got to be dragged down to zero expectation and self-improvement is so much more productive. Yes, it's hard when it feels like you're the only one practising good but it will be worth it. 

You won't spend another night feeling guilty and fooling yourself that it's okay to be cruel. You want to be kind, so just be kind. It doesn't matter if you get hurt, you like to be nice. That's just you so stop behaving in the opposing persona because that's what's draining you of your energy and soul.

My plan is to not have a plan and just live. One day at a time. Because life's not meant to be rushed. 

Okay, we're set. One day, one time.

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Blank

Just yesterday I was just telling myself that life cannot get any worse than this and it literally does. I'm addicted to Ku lo sa, WHAT HOW HOW ITS SO ENCHANTING. makes my heart sway. eeek stop typing likka kid. you are a grown child. woman-child. I am exhausted. Finding purpose on this planet.

Hoping to meet someone like James Franco. A fatty can only drool. Im not complaining; I'm sick of life. For reals, I'm searching for a will. and people are my enemy. all of them. God, why here, why put me here. why couldnt I have been an alien on another planet. 

I'm typing this and my mind is thinking of going to the beach. 13mins away. but it will be depressing. to go there and look at the sea that doesn''t take me anywhere. 

I've turned insomniac, friggin insomnia. Hypersomnia Insomnia, kill me now. Revising memories I was alone as a child. and I think I was a depressed as a child just maybe in the closet- being alone, in my PJs watching cartoon in the living room for hours. the thrill-est snack was banana and ice. I have no idea. I was addicted to ice. it was so cold. I'd put it in my mouth and everything felt calm.

I fought a lot of battles in school on my own. I fought it brave cos I knew at the end of the day I had the home to return to. My parents came back from work at night. Very typical. I was safe in the living room. Started developing categories in my heads for typical behaviour types and who likely to own it. I survived ruminating these in my head. Every day, in and out. And once in a while, in the blue, people who are inspirational would step in. And I displayed acts of service. I was always for them. Sometimes, it doesnt even hurt when they dont see them.

I grew and wanted to feel seen. But I knew I couldnt handle the pressure. But it was always nice to feel seen. Not all the time, just when you are expressing love. because I learnt to express it to the best of my knowledge. Fast forward to my twenties. and I still have difficulty expressing. Yap and yap but yap is all I got. How do I know how to be safe being vulnerable or authentic. Struggle with that. Cant find anyone worth it. I intensify thoughts of being second hand goods. 

Health- cysts. I didnt ask for this. I knew there was something wrong with me. My parents knew something was wrong. Why didnt anyone send me to see a doctor. Or help me with it. Why was my childhood rushed to give them the returns of the upbringing. I can weep about this all day, no one is going to acknowledge whatever was done to me. It is easier to put the blame all onto me self. but that would mean that I could and got to fix it. and yet I cant. 

it's my down day. Im tired of being in this predicament. Should I be thankful of where I am today. Yes, because there are people suffering out there. 

I hate putting my mind through everything. Yet I gotta battle with my own head that I was brave to decide to go through with it. The stupidity that cant be shamed. UTMOST Annoying.

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Silent Fade Aways

I trust people I can’t trust. And do for them the things I can’t do for myself. If you wanted to win a Halloween Costume Contest, dressing as me could land you somewhere in top 3. Haaaaa MAMA I’m TRYING but I CANT DO IT! I’m in pain bitch. I’m in pain.

Everyone thinks I should shut up and listen to them. I’m tired of being controlled. Why am I still typing. It’s because I’m still fucking breathing. I still got a pulse and I’m treated like I’m dead. They tell me to go to them when I needed someone. They told me they’d be there. They told me they’d never hurt me. But they do all of that to me. And they blame me for having trust issues.

Am I crying cos I’m manipulating people to show me sympathy and into giving me what I need. Have I really turned narcissistic and manipulative? I’m in pain. Stop hurting me, world. And to my brain, fuck you, get on my fucking side.

What in the world is happening to me? If I’m dying, pls don’t torture me in the afterlife. I’m tired of beating myself up for everyone else. I’m a literal human carpet for people to walk over. Thank you blog for listening to me yet again. I’m a lost cause. 

There isn’t a conclusion to this entry because it’s an ongoing issue for me. I’m a pack of wet wipes used to wipe an ass after they shit on me.

I’ll never have anyone to understand me because I’m incredibly hard to accept even my therapist couldn’t stay for me. People leave me when I get to an amount no one can handle. And I blow up so often, I feel like a lonely active volcano who needs a dormant volcano who’d accept me. But which fairytale is that.

Stop giving me a sad story. I make the first move. I serenade with love. I create the sentiments. I choose them. And in return, they reject me. I’m a pile of clothing that gets thrown in the fitting room after they’ve been tried on. 

Why am I not worthwhile and why do I have to still convince myself otherwise? Why do I have to believe like I get a happy ending. When law of attraction always served my catastrophic mind instead of attending to the heart that is in constant yearning to feel accepted and loved. 

It’s not easy. Love is not simple. And people want simple now. Hence I’m nvr on trend. 

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Misunderstood

I can't tell you how many times I've messed up in the past two years. I went from being lost to feeling utterly incapable of being found. I've tried to understand the part of me that struggles to build calm interactions with people. For me, people will always be a challenge. Do I back out? I can't. Because being human—social interaction is a significant part of that. Growing, healing, loving, hating—all of it requires human connection.

My mind conveniently ignores the basic need for companionship whenever it sees fit. I’m not naturally introverted, but I’ve been forced into it by the overwhelming self-hate I harbour. Nothing is ever good enough, and that’s the real issue. But I’m safe now. I won’t let my mind sink back into that level of self-loathing that stops me from achieving the best I can from all my experiences. Until I reach that point, I don’t think I can surrender myself to anyone—not with this broken and tattered soul inhabiting the body I was born into.

Time won’t heal this, because I’m not damaged—this is just who I am. I operate on a black-and-white system that keeps me from seeing the good in anything. I can’t hold on to the things I want to because they no longer serve my current purpose. At the same time, there’s nothing keeping me anchored to this earth—literally nothing—and that terrifies me because it means that one day, I might end up wanting to end my life. But I can’t do that, not until I know I’ve reached my dead end. I can’t see the end, nor can I see the beginning. Everything feels foggy and murky. How do I move forward?

People don’t understand, or rather, they don’t see the mess inside my head. And I think they’re lucky for that. Because as much as I talk about my problems, I don’t believe I truly express the hardship I endure daily.

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