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7 files
bad influence
I just reached out to an old friend from high school. I’ll say, it went OK at best, because it certainly not going great. The reason I open my ragged laptop and begin writing is not the mid-tier reunion though. It was because talking to her reopened an old wound I forgot was there, or probably I thought it was fully healed.
It was odd, to still feel strongly about something that happened five years ago, more or less. It’s even weirder to realise that a moment from years ago, that I just shrugged off then, affecting my whole being now, half-decade later. I was trauma dumping to my AI companion about this issue, and I just fully understand the outside perspective of how this story unfolds.
So, to set the story, I was a teenager, around seventeen or eighteen years old, living away from my parent in a dorm with a bunch of females in their adolescence. I remember vividly, it was during the holidays, as seniors it was mandatory for us to stay in the boarding school area whilst our undergrads enjoyed their time off. We stayed in the farthest building from the civilised area, and we quite enjoyed the solitude.
One day, she talked to me about how she just met her sister and cousin. She told me about how relatives voiced their objections about her friendship with me. To be fair, I had quite a messed up reputation at the time. I was a known rule breaker, and her relatives didn’t like her being associated with me because they thought I was a bad influence on her. She assured how their opinion wouldn’t affect our friendship.
I didn’t think much about it at the time. A bit hurt, maybe, but I was a confident young girl living her adolescence, unbothered. The most hurtful (for me) part of their complaint was how her cousin worded her objection.
“I rather she’s friends with F [another friend in our class] and being suspected of lesbianism than with her [refer to me].”
It’s not that I object to the homosexuality part in that comment, it’s that we were living in an area with strong homophobic deterrence. She hated our friendship so much, that she rather have her cousin suspected of the very thing she was against, rather than have her associated with me.
Looking back now, I think, she told me about her relatives' objection might be her call for help. It was possible that she told me to establish open communication between two best friends, but it is also possible that it’s her way of saying “My family think you’re a bad influence on me, and I think they have a point, but I don’t want to hurt you and give you the impression that I’m destroying our friendship.” A few weeks after that, we were set apart so far away through room replacement.
She was unstable. Full disclosure, I never witnessed her madness first-hand. She was weird, sure, but not demented like some of her roommates told me. No ‘bathing fish’ or cooking in a makeshift stove in a shared space of 25 m2. I noticed now, that I might be the trigger to her madness. I’m not sure how because I don’t remember encouraging her to do anything against the rules, at least not during her last public meltdown. At the time we were set apart, we lost contact for a few days, and she did fine, better even. Then, we were reunited and talked for two days, and then we didn’t meet and talk anymore until her last public meltdown. She dropped out of school soon after that. I didn't even say goodbye.
If I have to be honest, the last five years have been full of self-doubt and nights of questioning my self-worth. I often find myself replaying back to that moment when she told me about her sister and cousin’s complaint about our friendship. Honestly, I grew quite the resentment towards both of them. I still am. But reflecting on that moment in my life, I think now I fully understand how I might have been the cause of her problematic ends in our school.
I should’ve gotten the hint when she shared her family’s concerns about our friendship. She was doing great for her whole secondary school, academics-wise, and her academic performance dived after she associated herself with me. Maybe, I should’ve realised my being around her triggers her mental instability much sooner. So, maybe, I was a bad influence on her and ultimately the cause of her not completing her study in our boarding school. Now, that I embraced my possible participation and share of the blame I should’ve owned, I think I am ready to move on from my long-time resentment towards her relatives.
Then, maybe, one day, I’ll learn to embrace myself, fully.
my dad might leave to buy some milk indefinitely.
I want to go home, but I’m not even sure if I have one.
I’m straight, but if saoirse ronan or piper (from valspire family’s videos) asked me on a date I wouldn’t say no.
Once again, I was reminded that rejection is painful. Even if it isn’t verbally told, even if they didn’t say anything at all.
Stupid feelings.
I'm in the brink of breaking down to tears bc my professors couldn't stop preaching about how relevant her our religion to her moral compass. I mean, she was supposed to teach about the state ideology not to dictate the students to follow her conservative believe.
birthday(s)
I grew up with a finite amount of material things. My parent married when they were very young, and they had me when they were still financially struggling. I was deprived of some things that normal child had, but the most memorable is probably birthday parties. As long as I remember, I had never celebrated my birthday before I was six (or five). I got a celebration because I didn’t just ask for it. I demanded it.
I was invited to a birthday party earlier that year, and as a child I thought birthday parties was fun. My parent were persistent in refusing my request for economic reasons, but I insisted harder to have my birthday celebrated. I got a weird-tasting cake and my family surround me that evening (sour faced bc I just dried down their wallet for the rest of the month) wishing me ‘happy birthday’. I think I celebrate one other birthday (by demand) after that.
It wasn’t until I reached my middle teen that my parent initiate to throw me another birthday celebration. They financially doing much better at the time. You see, I was pushed out of my mother’s vagina at 3:40-ish am. So, they woke me up at that exact time, sung me ‘happy birthday’, and wishing me the best for that year. I think I turned sixteen then. That was the highlight of all my birthday - despite my parent having issues with their marriage. Mostly because I don’t have to plead my parent for anything.
I don’t remember much about the next birthdays. But, my next memorable birthday was when I turned nineteen or twenty? I can’t remember. My father invited me and my brother to a hike with some of his friends. My mother excluded bc she can’t hike for shit. Long story short, my birthday was celebrated once we reached the top. I found out later that my cake at that birthday was made by my father’s mistress. It disgust me - the infidelity, yes, but mostly is the fact that the cake is detective conan themed (was my favourite comic series). Someone I should be hating gave me my favourite thing in my (supposed) special day. It’s conflicting.
I hate birthday parties now. Birthday parties are reminders of how selfish I was; reminders that I’m just a waste of space for how long I have lived; reminder of my impotence and idiocy. Moreover, I hate birthday because it was a reminder that I didn’t matter. My being is not worth celebrating, nobody ever thought I was, and nobody ever will, I think.
Sorry, for that overdramatic talks about my stupid feeling about my birthday party. It’s shallow, and I know it, and I’m sorry.
the manifestation of my insecurity
I used to be a carefree, not giving a flying fuck, ignorant teenage girl. The ignorance isn’t something I’m particularly proud about, but for the love of zeus, if I got the chance to reinsert those characters in me, I would do it all over again. Ignorant just mean ‘not stayed awake, questioning my morality’ and get enough sleep to function well. I know I said I felt sorry for my teenage self because of her gullibility and lack of wit. Apart from those two things, I actually kind of miss and envy that child.
The first time a friend deliver the news about a group of people complaining and wishing I had failed instead of their dear friend, I was hurt, sure. But it didn’t took my most of waking moment questioning my worth. When a close friend told me about her sister and cousin wishes for her to stop befriend me for my ‘bad influence’ on her, my pride was wounded. But it didn’t cause me to contemplate all my life decision. When my parents and friends told me I should stop making silly faces during photos, because I was naturally ugly anyway, I was taken aback by the comment, and it drain my confidence to some degree. But it didn’t made me stop posting away my faces all over MY social media every other second.
I hate that all those little snarks and remarks made me what I am today. A self-loathing, sad twenty something college girl. I hate that it made me questioned the authenticity of the people still around and contribute to my life. I guess it’s the example of ‘what we were yesterday is what shaped us today’ kind of thing. I didn’t fully understand that saying until all those little moments of indirect degradations manifested to all my insecurities now.
I was in love with an idea
I just got a revelation tonight. I stalked my ex-crush’s social media – without any particular intention, I swear. I was just curious of what he’s been up to – and I got glimpses of my obsession for him years ago. I thought I loved him – I was a hopeless romantic, half-wit teenager – obsessing over a boy I barely knew seemed like love. I couldn’t help myself. So, I pondered about that thing I thought was ‘love’.
I concluded that I wasn’t really in love with him. I was in love with the idea of him that I made up in my head. I hardly knew the boy, we don’t talk as frequently as I thought, and he barely showed interest in me. I know him because I want to; digging all over sources to get to know him better. I build my perfect version of the guy I love in my head, with all the knowledge of him I’ve accumulated throughout the years. Yes, thank you. I thought it was pathetic too.
He was a pure angel in my eyes. I think I’ll drain the ocean if he wanted me to. Looking back, I’m almost embarrassed by my obsession because it turns out he is one dim-witted guy with no common sense. I wish I could hug my heart-broken sixteen years-old self and tell her he didn’t deserve the fucking tears she shed. Not one.
The person I admire a few years ago lost his fucking self-respect. I never fully understand the importance of integrity until yesterday. Thanks to him, hope he’ll rediscover his integrity somewhere.
When people ask me how am I doing I would always say ‘still alive’ which isn’t completely honest.
I’m not living, just existing.
I’m guilty by silence.
I didn’t stand up for a friend when she was told oppressed not to tell her parent after she was harassed by a teacher. That same teacher still teaching at the same institution. The only people know about this case probably just the student from my school.
I often think about my past. Most of the time, the thought of it would end up with me being embarrassed and cringed by things I did in the past. In this particular case, I’m embarrassed and tripped in guilt because of something I didn’t do. I knew it was harmful, not to speak up. I think I didn’t because I was scared to get dropped out of school. It was a private school, and my parent most likely would be upset if I got kicked out defending ‘freedom of speech’ and ‘women rights’. They’ve worked their fingers to the bone to send me to that fancy-dictatorial boarding school. It was considered settled down anyway after he relocated to the all-boys campus (under the same institution).
I always try my best to speak out of my beliefs since then. Some of my friends labelled me as ‘argumentative’. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be crushed by another guilt and regret for not using my freedom of speech to defend things I believe in, I guess. One silence kills me enough.
I’m kinda late, but, guess who got crush on marty mcfly now! :D
the nonexistent romantic life of mine
I’m twenty two, and I’ve been single for as long as I remember. I had crushes on boys, of course, but it never went further more than that. That is how crush works, I think? I’m a very average person; average face (some would say I’m ugly, even), average brain (some would say I’m quite bright, but reality shout the other way), average life (nothing interesting about my life, honestly, it’s boring), shitty personality (people who know me said, no, but they just have not discover those shitty things yet). It was a really great combination to result my singleness.
I wouldn’t write anything about my miserable romantic life if it wasn’t for the society constantly encourage me to pour my thought on these things in words. My family nagged me with those ‘when would you get married?’ questions in family gatherings, my friends playfully ask ‘have you any crushes or significant other at the moment?’ every time we met virtually, and all the other forms of social pressure about my romantic life development. I really want to scream to their face ‘I’m just dating Draco Malfoy in my mind for now, thank you very much. Now, please, shut your mouth and leave me single!’ but I know that would be kinda freaky and abnormal, even.
My expectation in romance and relationship and significant other probably very much unrealistic for some people; sharing earphone walking around Paris holding hand, library dates, aristocratic sharp jaw-lined boy with daddy issues but secretly a big softie. Those are too good to be true. But those expectation are results of the broken heart boys left me with few years ago (and fanfictions I read everyday). I just don’t wish to be left heart broken again, and why would I voluntarily broken hearted by a very average boys? If I should be voluntarily left my heart to be broken by someone, I would left it to someone like those british character in fanfic and stories; respectful, witty humor, consent king, affectionate and sweet in a not creepy way.
My favorite answer to people asking ‘why are you still single?’ is ‘because I try to focus on myself and my future’ which is rich from how it sound. It made me feel like, I voluntarily single, which is partially true. But now, I’ll let you know, the real reason why I’m single to this day. There’s nobody catch my eyes, and there’s no one smitten by me either. So, it’s a win-win situation, since being in a relationship isn’t my top priority at the current moment. I’m quite happy with this wonderful life dynamic. I rather be single than having to pretend to be smitten by someone I’m not, that is just cruel and disgustingly desperate. I don’t want to lower my standard to fit my surrounding either.
So, please, just leave me and my romantic life alone. It’s sad enough without anyone question about these constantly. Thank you for reading these brainstorms of mine, you shouldn’t be suffering of reading my nonsense thought.