Scars that Heal @scarxthatheal - Tumblr Blog

Jealousy, a slave’s wonderer

Why? You may ask.

From what I know, for centuries ago, only slaves have time for their feelings. While the rich are always looking for ways to invest their richness in greater things than just mere agonizing over their lives and desires.

The rich are always busy, while the slaves, stupid as they are, are always pondering over their wants and needs.

Needless to say, but poor people stay poor over a lot of reasons.

Love, Mismanaged.

In Far Ends Glory.

Funny, how red lips are easy to read.

Back, with priviledge

Did you know that depression is one simple sign of brilliance? I didn’t, and that’s silly.

You wake up one day to realise that you are stuck in a life with of never-ending loops, trying fast and furiously to find a door out, because you know that life shouldn’t always be clouded.

Depression, a key to fame.

Here I am, after five solid years of gratitude and ingratitude, ups and downs, questions and far too many answers, I’m back to my poetic injustice of every existing languages, stories, hell on water, water on fire, and magic madness concealed in the actual beauty of life’s all-time madness.

My madness is only by the hands of this little life I would call not life at all. When the tables turned and my stories came out, I willingly accept with nonchalance that the colours in me are mine to hold. Every single question I have had growing up, are all made up of stories always lived by the very same type of people, with the very similar aspects of life. I am 27 now, still kneeling deep in that tiny state of mind, where my intros are all already by far known to the human/inhuman kinds, and my challenges wide-spreaded, well hided.

It isn’t easy, complimenting life with nothing at all, and having to move up the steps of different kingdoms over and over again, with no solid grounds, and no solid help. Much to my regard, nobody even notices how heavy that duty falls on me, with no connections, and always making one up every time I take the stand in unfamiliar places. After making a name, I go towards another while the ones I leave behind would forget and keep forgetting.

It works. People say fallen angels do not need a heed, and devils do not need a friend. What’s more is that I belong to this everlasting loneliness, as I feed people to their own fun, while I feed myself to my own cologne. When a depressive person is bothered, it feels like a tickle to the veins, rippling into the skin, say, a tickle of remembrance - that I do not need the bothersome.

I’ve always hated the know-it-all (me), that I blab so much up front consecutively with no real margin to the lines of my stories. I just do things over and over again, bleak on my side, but always so colorful to my outskirts. At the end of the day, nobody really knows me, as my progresses have always been artificial. In other words, depression never made me, I made it for myself.

High tide, my memories consist of nothing but legally-proclaimed abuses. Age becomes ageless, time becomes timeless, life becomes lifeless. In other words, everything becomes unimportant. Why? Nothing is appreciated. I have never appreciated the loss of my age, time and space. If I were given the chances, I would never have erased even the most painful memories of myself. I do not want to be uncountable, though I always make myself into one.

I have never loved anybody at all. I guess people can sense it in the ways that I giggle internally when I say I care. I have always loved only myself, just because I consider myself luckier than the more, able to receive everything and nothing at all at the same time, over and over again.

I have never accepted any presents, just little trinkets and hand-me-downs that works perfectly just so I can avoid the needy. I never want to be important, as importance only brings nuisance to the life I love to live in, my very own constant lovely depressive, nonchalant self.

I mean, who can blame me? Having a family that loves wrecking one another. Having to live with them like ants that do not know how to feed themselves. Having women that act like dogs and men that act like beetles, always just makes me wonder if they should ever exist in my all colourful life at all. So I let them in the dark, whilst my wish is to leave them all to rot in the dark with their ever so sweet fangs of intelligence. The threats of death and dying feels so good, as I know how a zookeeper must have had the same type of hell as I.

Teaching and giving culture/power to the so-called cultural/powerful but actually blank artists, proves to be an exhausting exercise. Loving how the whole existence is against me, only proves that these existences are not for me. Their cultures are all mine, honestly, and they just keep proving themselves unworthy of me and mine, for all this time.

It is funny how the most powerful and knowledgeable political artist would say, they only care for themselves and their riches whilst often peeking towards others to find some sort of glory.

Needless to say, wreckages make even the mime to shatter a little bit more inside. And I, first would say that I respect life and all life’s doing can now say I do not respect any more life at all, starting with these needy men, monkey women, and zero to nothing impersonators.

They say life as a King is harsh, well, I’d say, if one was a good one, one does not need to be in a horrified one. That goes to my (hopefully dead soon with all my powers) families/infertilitits.

A wrecked home brings up a wrecked life.

I do not believe in the bad teaching us good, anyway. If one was smart enough to acknowledge that, no one has to be in this weak spot of crying hard over other people’s problems in the very first place.

Maybe I am just with the wrong people, the kinds that can not accept when they are second base.

It is funny, really. When the art teaches you to dance behind somebody sometimes, only to find out when somebody says something wicked, a hind glance is considered graceful. Yuck to the producers of my story, you have picked perfection for me.

May I grow my own families one day, with exuberance, and no ugly drama to move up the ladder of what? Princess party sisters?

What a story. Such ugly men and women I have met.

May I leave them at peace with their own minds, I’m taking my cultures back with me.

Now, where was I with depression?

I must have gotten lost.

Heresay, a wrecked household does bring up the worst of people. The worse of people does bring up the worse to relationships. Idiotic, really. How people just want life to stay neon all the time.

I’m grossed out with the soils I put my feet onto. Thank goodness for shoes!

- Maybe I am not healed at all yet -

Love, Better at it myself.

#whatprivilege

A strong girl is a sad girl. Because imagine how much pain she has to go through, that urged her to become that strong. (at scarxthatheal.tumblr.com)

MLGB. I found a constant reminder today. My every day reminder. A reminder to myself that my life IS getting better. No, not because of some boy. No, not because of a scholarship. No, not due to a vacation. And no, no because of good grade. Or anything superficial nor spiritual. But it was because of love. I found love in myself. After years of living a dark life, I am beginning to accept that my flaws are beautiful. That each and every scar I have, they complete me. They taught me to be stronger, and so I am better. I began to accept myself as myself. I stopped thinking about what makes me normal because I realized that I am not normal. I am different and special, and I do not need to explain myself, nor to prove to anybody, because I am happy just having me, because I am enough. It was not easy, getting away from feeling like you are unworthy, replaceable and disposable. It was not easy trying to avoid feeling like a burden to everyone. It was not easy having to fake a smile when you feel like your heart is in between your throat, not sinking, not even getting out. It was not easy trying to accept yourself when your head keeps telling you that nobody loves you. It was not easy. And if still isn't. I still get these thoughts. I still struggle with these thoughts. But my life is getting better, because I have learnt to love myself. I just need to constantly remind myself that I AM worthy, is all. By @scarxthatheal (at scarxthatheal.tumblr.com)

What is your escape?

When we talk about reality, almost everyone has it differently. What is similar though, is how our realities make us feel alike. Pain brings people closer, hence the term ‘misery loves company.’ There is no denying the fact that as mere human beings, there are times when things get too overwhelming for us and we just needed to escape. Whether it be books or a little drive around town. Whether it be alcohol, or a little bit of drugs. In my opinion, if it is something that helps you cope, then nobody has the right to judge. Everyone in this world is struggling to be happy, and sometimes it takes a little more for some people to get their feet on the ground. What they are doing may be wrong but sometimes, it is just what they need. I have always been the straight up no drugs kind of girl, until my reality deemed too much for me to handle. I resorted to marijuana. It became the friend I knew I could enjoy. What marijuana has taught me; 1) To relax. As a college student who spent all her free time doing voluntary work or actually working at a part-time job, I was constantly trying to get myself busy. I did not like lazing around and having nothing to do. And at the end of a quiet day I usually felt more stressed out than I was when I had been working for 12 hours straight. It did not help by being myself either. I was often on edge, insecure. I have always been slightly competitive, always trying to prove myself, and it may be the fact that I grew up as the eldest of all 8 of us, and I constantly tried to set a good example, which steered completely at the opposite way. But anyway, I never truly felt relaxed but it all changed once I was friends with weed. Marijuana helped me let go of a few things that never should have bothered me in the first place. It made me feel as if my life was my own and that I should live it at my own pace. I should have not tried to rush life and tried to do everything at one time. I have only one lifetime and I should be able to enjoy every day without constantly trying to please everyone. It is me and it is my life, and if I choose to spend my summer vacation watching Friends and lazing up in my own room, then so be it. 2) To appreciate the little things. I came to appreciate people more. Once I have relaxed it gotten so much easier to be happy about the little things. Like my mom’s constant nagging that turned out to be pretty adorable now that I got older. How I come to love being around my siblings more now that what annoyed me continuously growing up, did not annoy me anymore. I have come to really learn that not everybody is going to stay in your life forever, and that the time you have with them is worth treasuring. I appreciate time. You know how sometimes at the end of the week you simply feel as if you have not done anything worth talking about besides work? Like how time flew by at each New Years and you realised you have not a lot crossed out of your bucket list because you were too busy making a living? I know, education and work are both really important. It is just that sometimes we get busy, too busy, to truly appreciate time. I have known a great number of people passing away at my age, at this time, and I guess I have realised that time is not a friend. But I have never acted upon it. I have never given my time to something that affects me greatly. But because of weed, I took my time. I took all the time I had to breathe and appreciate where I stand. To look sideways at my wonderful view, and did not even feel afraid of looking back at what I have failed on and what I have achieved. I appreciate life. I became more thankful. I did not see the world as superficial as it was before, and I came to appreciate that life is not about settling, it is about being happy. Whatever I choose to do, I should not have done it because it is expected of me, or because everybody else is doing it. I should do things that make me happy and even if the whole world is against it, I am the one who should feel content at the end of the day, simply because I am happy. Life has so much more to give, and whether it be good luck or a lesson, you will feel a hundred times lighter when you accept them with open arms. 3) To believe that I am strong. Being strong for yourself is one of the hardest things to do, but we all have to do it at one time or another. I learnt that at this point in my life, I could have a million friends and still sleep alone at night. People come and go, and sometimes they do not have a choice. Everybody has a life they need to live, and their lives may not revolve around you as much as yours does. At one point, we know it. But we do not fully comprehend it. I have lost a lot of people whom I dearly loved, both temporarily and permanently. To lose someone temporarily is fine for me, because I know that one day I might see them again. But to lose someone permanently, that cuts deep. And not everyone has the ‘privilege’ to have felt that great loss. I know, everybody experience different things. But almost everybody has felt the need to stay strong, it is what songs talk about, and what blogs write about. To me being strong is believing that you are both strong and weak; strong enough to get through this alone, but weak enough to cry out for help. I guess when I was on weed, I did not feel that much pride in me anymore, and so I took advantage of those people around me, to help me be strong for myself. This is because I have always been the girl who wanted to be independent, who wanted to show that she did not need help from anyone. Yes, it was the pride talking. I then learnt that it is okay to cry, and that it is okay to admit that you need other peoples’ help, I guess crying and admitting it was what made me stronger. I believed that I could do it on my own if I had to, but I also believed that I needed help too. And so here I am, still trying to stay strong, and I believe that it might take me a while but I’ll do it one step at a time. 4) To exhale the negativity. The world can be known as cruel, with our crappy politics and economy, and how people are quite selfish when it comes to money and exerting power. Yes, it can be. I know that there are a lot that you have read, seen, heard or maybe experienced, that has affected you greatly. But to think and mourn about it over and over again does not help with your current situation either. If it is something you can change, then do something about it. If it something you cannot do anything about, then move on. Trying to exhale all the negative thoughts and energy out of you is like trying to get gum out of your hair. You either do it slowly or you just chop them off. It can be both tiring, and frightening, but whether you choose the easy or long way out, it still needs your full commitment. My way was marijuana, of course. I inhaled and exhaled more on weed than I have in all my life. And with every breath I take, I smile a little more. I keep thinking of what makes me happy, sometimes I think of that exact moment, where I am awake and relaxed and alive, and just feel thankful and before I knew it, positivity seeps through me like wool on water. For you stoners out there I am glad you made it through reading this post, but I suggest you save this link and read it again once you are sober. For all the non-stoners, I am not saying that marijuana had everything to do with what I have thus far learnt, but I guess the fact that it helped, made me felt saved, somehow. With my depression, these simple realizations even helped me get through my days without marijuana for the past month. For someone who could not bear a day without smoking pot, this is progress. I would also like to say that even without marijuana, you can do all these too. Because frankly, everything starts with you.

Why this blog?

I guess the real question here is, what makes this blog different? Well to be honest I have been staring at my hands for the last ten minutes just trying to figure out the answer, and I have come up with none. Though I do know why I choose to create this blog, and as a lady who likes to share, this is my shortened and sweetened story. Depression. It was never a familiar term for me until a couple of years ago. Growing up, I never understood why I had so much feelings. I thought that it was because I’m a girl, and that it was normal. I had a girl who sat in front of me in class in junior high, and she was used to cutting herself. She used to tell me all sorts of her problems, and I used to listen to her, consoled her and tried to make her feel better. And then I would be crying in my room for her because I felt her pain. I did not really know what I was feeling because the feelings were never precise. Again I thought it was normal, like how cutting myself because I could not handle the emotional pain felt normal. I was 13, and it was not even my problem. So why did I feel her pain? It did not just happen with one friend, in fact I was mostly where my friends would go to for a shoulder to cry on. I listened to their problems, offered my advice, made them laugh and when no one was watching, embraced the dark cloud that was hovering above me. But I never knew why I was upset. I did not even understood why I felt trapped, alone and nonexistent. I did not have family problems or health problems and I was in one of the top classes in school. I had a lot of good achievements and I was always the one called on stage for any school events; from reciting my poetry for Teacher’s Day to hosting the school’s first singing fest. I did not even have boy problems yet. So why did I cry myself to sleep every night? Why did I felt like I was a burden to everyone when deep down I knew I was loved? What I felt was uncontrollable. It became worse after I graduated high school. I casually dated a guy who turned out to be very abusive and tried to kill me by strangling me twice! It was the darkest year of my life, and I was only 19. After I made my escape from him, I started smoking, drinking and basically just killing myself slowly without having to cut myself. Nighttime was my enemy. I could not bear staying in my room at nights, especially before sleeping. I always had this choking feeling, like my heart was in my throat and it was not sinking or getting out. I had trouble sleeping and I went out every night at midnight and came home before sunrise so I would feel really exhausted and sleep. I did not care where I go and continued this cycle for almost a year. Until I met a guy who helped restore my self-respect. The relationship lasted for over two years and ended just six months ago. During the relationship, I had somebody with me almost all the time so I felt better. Some days I still felt depressed but I guess having a constant someone helped me get through it. The relationship was quite difficult as my feelings were almost always exaggerated. I felt things I should not have felt and him cheating on me made my insecurities worse. After the break-up, I felt sadder. I relied mostly on drugs because I could not handle reality. The fact is that a long relationship really takes a lot from you and trying to find yourself back can be a very difficult journey. So why this blog? Because after six months of being with myself and spending the four to five months on drugs, I am healing. I am now happier with myself and feeling more comfortable being alone. Two months ago I was sweating in my sleep and was still going out after midnight just so I would not feel like I was drowning in my own bedroom but now, I am capable of staying home for days without feeling trapped. I do still feel those mashup of emotions once a while but I have been handling it better than I have at 19. And I have not been resorting to drugs for a month now, and for me that is quite a progress. I did not talk to a therapist and I did not seek help (my family was never a believer of psychological problems). I was not on medication and yet I survived the thoughts in my head. So here I am and I will try to share what I can because I know that feelings are confusing, and some people are not open to sharing what feelings do to them when they are alone. This blog is for all the beautiful people who has never really seen themselves without seeing flaws. It is for the broken but strong fighters who has been fighting their own secret battles. And it is for the dreamers, whose dreams are so big and bright that they are afraid to share with the rest of the world. It is also for me, the girl who tried everything in her power to stop the hurt, and only now feeling as if she can breathe again. Be brave. Be happy . #bestrongforyou

#scarsthatheal bestrongforyou

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