I’ve been struggling with shit lately and disregarded this blog completely, aside from hitting “share on tumblr” on Instagram, as you may or may not have noticed.
I have to move on, and in order to do so, I need to remove shit from my life, get the fuck over my own issues.
I’ll return once I feel like it, I guess. In the meantime, you can just pop on Skype to chat, if you want. synzaphine there, just drop me a line as to who you are and I’ll add you. Though ultimately, I will probably not initiate chats, I’m distracted as fuck and always set to busy because the Skype sounds annoy me - and it pops over everything, which brings my attention span to zero. This, however, doesn’t mean “don’t talk to me”, please do, and I’ll try my best to respond. I like friends. I’m just distracted and irritable. If I’m busy I’ll tell you so.
Updates on my life basically.. its at a turning point. It’s going somewhere, one or two people are involved directly. I’m shaking off past mistakes and getting over fresh wounds. Time heals, yadda yadda.
Tumblr currently hurts me to look at, tbh, so that’s why I decided to remove it for the time being, until I’m more at terms with what I see here. I don’t need the negativity - not talking about the news and important things, but more like personal drama and pointless shitstorms.
I also need to focus on myself for a while. As in self-development.
TL;DR, hiatus because life.
I can be found anywhere else, though. On skype, as I said, on instagram and twitter - sinshatter, if you were wondering - and that’s about it.
I don’t know how to word what I’m feeling right now. It’s kinda mixed.
I’m glad the people who are in my life presently, are a part of it. I’m glad I have such amazing people around me.
I’m also glad to have such inspiration to look up to and be amazed by. They don’t know who I am, but that’s not a problem. When I listen to them, when I watch them, they’ll inspire me to do greater things, and that’s what matters.
Everybody writes their own stories, and in each story whispered into the endless depths of life, we are legends, birthed by legends.
I’m also sad that those who wanted to leave, left. I’m not sure what I’ve done to them, but I respect their choices and wish them well. Some, I removed, for their actions were something that I felt toxic.
I’m only sad that I couldn’t help them. Perhaps they’re better now.
Each scar teaches something that nobody else can live or see. That’s how life is, eh?
If it’s not you, is it safe to hate you too?
Why not show respect?
If someone wants to respect their culture, what do you do?
You say “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful.”
If someone disrespects you but sincerely apologizes, what do you do?
You educate them in a calm and patient manner, and tell them why this is important for you and for them to respect it.
If there’s no one to free, who are you trying to liberate? That Muslim girl with a headscarf, or yourself?
Before you do or say something, question yourself.
Are you trying to protect something you have no idea about? Is it limited to what you know via internet? Internet’s a good source, but it’s easy to grab the wrong information.
Are you trying to protect someone, or trying to make yourself feel special, or even praised?
Question your motives and your knowledge.
Spend time with people with an open mind, no matter what’s the outcome. Everything is an experience, good or bad.
Reason your hate.
Reason your love.
Think. It’s free.
If I write things that make me look like I’m depressed, I’m usually not. I mean, it’s kinda complicated, I guess. It used to be venting, but now it’s more of a tracking my emotions. I don’t feel sad, I’m observing myself.
Does that make any sense?
Anyway, I’m gonna hide the rest under Read More, to save some space to people who don’t want to read me analyzing myself.
I can’t remember ever feeling love. Perhaps the rejection of the father figure, perhaps lacking a male figure all together, or maybe something else that I have not yet reached as a reason. The point is, I’ve never felt love. Not in that sense.
Did I not love my friends, family? I loved them, of course. But I could never show it. Aside from being protective, I’d bully people I love. I’d poke fun at them, give sarcastic remarks or make bad puns. I tried to make them be happy. But I could never put on a serious face and tell them I loved them.
Whenever I tried, I would freeze up. The words would knot in my throat and would refuse to get out.
Why?
And how am I to remedy this?
I keep denying the emotions I feel. I tell myself - I can’t be loved. I tell myself, Love is not real.
Family is real. My friends are my family, too.
But deep down I know it’s real. I pray it’s real. And I pray it would somehow find me.
My body can’t carry the expectations my mind has.
Every time I try to accept the emotions my insides collapse by the weight of it, it becomes too intense. Is it normal, is it abnormal, or is my lack of perspective makes me delusional? Why must it scare me so to say something so simple, to accept what is in human nature, to embrace it?
I wish your eyes fell upon me the way they do when they marvel at the night sky.
I refuse the romantic fool inside of me, I shun her, I shun everything about that side of me entirely - I know she’s there. She’s as real and I know she suffers, she cries at the rejection but what can she do when her host doesn’t want her?
Why? Because she’s weak? Because she trusts people blindly and that brought us nothing but trouble? Because she sees the good, loves and protects instead of shutting herself down?
I breathed life into a dream and it looked like you. I placed the stars I cried into your eyes and watched them twinkle, and I gave you... gave you...
What makes me so afraid, the hurt that I’ve been a slave of for years repeating itself, or the change that has no clear outcome?
The raven sung a song yet nobody heard how it cried it’s sadness in small squawks.
Or is it because my heart has grown so weak that I decided it was only going to get damaged? So I shoved it in a cage, and kept it where no one could find it. I coated it with barbs so whoever touched it only got stung.
My will had grown stronger as I survived my own hell, and slowly adapted back to life. Though I had issues with myself, I told myself, I can fix it. I can fix what I don’t like about my body, about my life.. But can I fix my personality? Is it broken? Does it really need fixing?
Feathers like the night sky, eyes like the open sea under a sunny day.
Why must I confuse myself so? Maybe this is the reason why I shun all these emotions. Maybe.
Or maybe I’m just not strong enough to handle such a strong emotion, and afraid I’ll get crushed under it.
I gave you life in a dream. T’was a dream, and a dream only, yet I’m afraid, if I were to fall in a coma, I wouldn’t be able to wake up because of this dream.
