Understand

Misunderstood...

    A word all my life, I'm starting to get used to hearing.

Even the closest people in my life,

    They never really did.

Should I?

    Should I force it to make them understand me?

There is nothing to understand...

   This is already who I am.

Sometimes, I wish that they can accept it.

  Rather, have one or few people in this world who can accept me...

It is sad, a sadness that I thrive in almost everyday.

  Sadness that I have been used to longing, befriending it.

A hopeful kind of sadness...that is beautiful and silent.

  I appreciate it for it is only what I have, what I live for.

Can you understand me?

  For if one is reading this,

Please do.

Inked thoughts

There are times that I could not think straight, thoughts overlapping inside my mind. I think that this is what I really am. This is what I'm wired for.

But why is it that way? Sometimes I even wonder, why am I like this... Why am I this silent and strange girl who thinks like a guy? Why am I wired this way? Questions always boggle my brain. 

I even thought that maybe God picked up a wrong gender for me. Sometimes, I even forsake why am I a woman, this weird and cold thinking female who is frequently misunderstood by anyone...

This reserved and stiff individual who is always reading, and thinking about strategies and things. Yet, time comes that I learned to accept this. Time comes that I, in return, know that this is really me.

Sometimes, I end up drifting into my own thoughts. Yet, I'm very talkative when it comes to writing, rather than speaking and talking things out loud.

And you know what, I think a blank paper is a better listener, than people because it never judges you silently. One is allowed to flow her whereabouts in his blank sheet. That is also why, I considered paper as one of my special friends.

Yet, I even made a mistake of using words to hurt someone for the reasons that even I can't comprehend. Let's just say, life always gives it toll. People change for it is nature and quiet people like me (who is always patient) has its own limits.

These thoughts are always there and I think it is much better for me, to conceal it in. Perhaps, everything really happens for a purpose.

Here it is, these thoughts are always present in this blog, this strange online paper who enjoys silence with me.

Praning

Sometimes, I'm doomed.

However, it is only a feeling. Being doomed is a signal that one is ready for an upcoming problem or situation.

Somehow, it connects to a signal into our brains. This is also a sign of over-thinking in which it has the tendency to create non-existent problems in the first place.

Over thinking is thinking, a mechanism of a person to imagine innate possibilities and solutions of such future possibilities. "Over-thinker" is a term coined for people who has this skill and they come off as natural planners and thinkers.

However, over thinking is also linked to having a pessimistic outlook of life. That is also why, I tend to display a cold and "bitchy" face to the outside world. Because of this scenario, I often came off as a misunderstood and stiff individual among the crowd.

This is a video on my animation class. It somehow expresses what I thought.

A note to them...

Tonight, I will reveal something. Now I have realized why I don't have much friends, let alone true ones.

In the end, friends will always grow apart for they have their lives ahead of them...

When will one realize that a person is true? 

I have been used to people who leave me, let alone disappoint me...Yet when it is my turn to speak out and be blunt, I always end up hurting them...

That is why I detach myself around people. I never felt anything. The longing feeling of being in a good company is always absent. 

I think that I never find it hurtful to be alone and contented with my own company. Yet people always see it as a liability, a note of having self-confidence issues. Yes, I get scared and afraid but as a person, it is normal.

I notice everything, every detail and scenario with every person I encounter. Though I never express and react, does not mean I don't care. It doesn't mean I don't notice...

I remember that memory. It's summer and your words are we should stick together and help each other out. I hoped that you will be that person who will stood by me, thick and thin, against the odds.

However, that memory becomes a drifting false hope. 

I own my mistakes when I was too honest, yet I said what I think it is true. 

I guess both of you are good enough for me to realize, that I should not hold people who are close to me, to high hopes and standards...

They say pain changes people...

and yes, I have changed to the fact, that you don't know me anymore.

Goodbye...

I notice everything...

 your eyes

Possess pride and undeeming fear...

You hide it so that nobody will

know that you are afraid

If only you will tell me the truth...

I'd understand

but I guess your pride got in the way...

I have nothing to do about it.

I'm done.

Thank you for our time together.

I guess, this is it...

Goodbye.

Reality Check

Hidden beneath that cold and calm exterior,

is a storm brewing.

I often mask my own feelings

with a thick, unbreakable wall of ice.

That is also why,

I seem to be pushing people away...

even the closest ones...

because I know, I would hurt them...

through that storm inside.

I said sorry...

lots of times because I don't want them to leave me.

But, that's my mistake...

I always have high expectations when it comes to people

Especially to that special people in my life...

Now I've realized that...

I should stand on my own.

Build that wall again, and don't let anyone in.

Because the only being that I can trust...

is myself.

Set me free

People are there. Walking and minding each other's business. Yet, you are in that corner looking at something, quietly observing.

Your friends are there. Same shallow greetings of the day and they go on with their classes. You like to go with them, however you are walking calmly and slowly. You watch them as they go in front of you, giggling at each other about trivial matters.

In front of others, you are the kind one (or too kind to be exact). However, you are the one who is hard to read.

Smiling to let your friends to know that you are happy pretending. Smile because there is a good joke or a boisterous laugh. For it is only a therapeutic remedy of your pretending soul.

You love the people around you, but sometimes, there is a such a thing as too selfless.Questions start boggling your mind.

What will happen if I don't care about them too much?

 What will happen if I stopped? 

What will happen if I change all of a sudden?

Will those people I love are true to me?

 or Am I the one not being true to myself?

You sit at the chair beside the window, thinking. You wallow your own reality into your own thoughts crashing and making war. It is loud enough inside your head so why do you bother talking to them.

That's it. You don't know what to think anymore. You just shut your own mouth, staring at others blankly. As vague as your expression, your friends don't really know what's inside your mind.

The school bell rang. People are standing and quickly getting out of the room. You are the last one to get out because you have no one to share your silence with. You are imprisoned with that wall you build around yourself.

It's ironic isn't it? That wall you build for protection, serves as your own dark prison that leaves you misplaced and misunderstood.

Yet how ironic the situation is, you still hope for that someone to help you wreck that wall. You hope that some people will set you free from your own sanity.

Hope.

The sound of the word is beautiful already. It gives a tiny crack of that wall you intentionally built.

Everything will be fine. At least, the crack is significant already.

Missing Independence

People start noticing and cheering.
rooting.

It is weird.

For, I always walk alone.

A mechanism that all my life,
I am starting to get used to it.

Yet I am proud of it
Self-reliant and Independent

questions echoing.

Don't you feel lonely?

Is solitude the only true friend you have?

Why am I alone?

Optimism counteracts.

Alone is freedom.

Free-spirits live.

Solitude is my best friend.

at least,
I am free.



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