Open Letter

There’s a part of me that’s always afraid of confrontation. There’s a lot of things I hold back from saying, and there are tiny bombs I try to present to the world wrapped in glitter paper and tied with a bow. There’s always a fear of being misunderstood, of being hated,  of feeling invalidated, and of feeling isolated. Feelings are never like a business email, you never get a a prompt reply like “Duly noted.” 

It’s difficult to put it all out there, especially if you yourself constantly question the validity of your thoughts. The problem with not saying what you feel instantaneously is that once those feelings are stored inside you, already they’re not the same feelings really. You run them through your mind and ask yourself if it’s okay for you to feel this way. But of course, there are some instances when one must sit quietly, take oneself aside and talk it through, one feeling at a time. It might be an overreaction, a product of overthinking, maybe even something that simply boils down as an effect of physical exhaustion. 

One of the things my friends told me before that both hurt and and somewhat made me grateful, is that I have highly abstract problems. Problems that don’t really have any physical form, something along the lines of faulty internal wiring, of having half a body submerged in the past, half running after an illusionary future. I’m not very good at describing myself, probably because I have a very strange way of perceiving myself. I understand myself in a strange way, I’m probably emotionally narcissistic and I can always lie to myself in the best way, and maybe that’s how I’ve gotten by for a long time. 

Maybe what I’m really afraid of in confronting people is coming to terms with a truth that is not what I’ve told myself all along. I think I’ve built myself quite precariously. I really like my own convenient version of the truth. But of course, I can’t live that way. It’s like living with my own personal snail shell.

I’d love to say things out loud, but I have so many memories of being burned with words that I just stop myself. Burned with words or a lack of them. Maybe I really am just too narcissistic to be with other people. 

How horrid is it really, that the more I find reason to hate myself, the more I embrace myself and build my shell, patch those tiny holes and squeeze myself inside. 

I’ve felt lately that I’ve wanted to stay away from people. Already there’s too animosity building up towards people who are close to me. Everything seems magnified, and illuminated. People’s words are louder, sharper.

But then there are pockets, little moments when I want to be close to people. When I need people, when I feel myself crumbling from too much of myself, and I want to be destroyed, I want to be destroyed by people. But there’s no such thing as having what you want when you need it. It’s that  an empty room you come home to when you need a warm voice for a welcome,  hands that flinch when your fingers brush against them, this horrible silence that you fill in by screaming inside your head. 

A lifesaver on an ordinary beach day.

None when you’re drowning. 

I’ve gotten so used to talking in circles and having myself as an audience that really all I do is write letters to myself in hopes that somewhere in the Universe someone reads it and even in the slightest acknowledges that it’s okay to feel this way. 

But that’s hoping for too much.

It’s always a hit or a miss, since I don’t confront people I don’t have a right to wish for anything. But still, on days when I think I bear my heart to the world, I pray that no one crushes it. Or if they do, then I pray they crush it completely. So I can start from nothing.

But the end of it all is that I’m probably really very selfish, very very selfish indeed. 

I find myself unraveling my remaining sane thoughts. Or is it my insane thoughts.
I can’t tell anymore because their colors have started to bleed together like a bad dye-job.

Everyday feels like I’m running late and I’ve gotten on the wrong train again.
Numbers start to turn into words, words into pictures, pictures into memories and my memory cookie jar is running out of chocolate chip and is being filled up with off tasting ginger snaps.

Why am I always on the wrong foot,
the wrong end of a sentence,
the wrong wrong even.

I’m flipping scared because I’m drifting and I can’t find my anchor
or a lifesaver floating.

I am constantly torn between wanting to improve myself and wanting to destroy myself.

—Unknown (via skullsarethick)

(Source: beautyinthebellejar)

Rooted

It must have been seeds caught in the wind. 

Riding the flow of the breeze, these tiny seeds, came to land on my heart and call it home. They planted themselves on my heart’s soil, fertile with past and present emotions. Their roots dug deep into my heart, taking over the veins and interweaving throughout my entire body.  

They feed on me, and it’s not too long before I feel their blooms inside me. The most fragile roses of doubt. 

Never did I think I would want weeds and not flowers.

"Isn’t it fitting that a girl who clashes with herself almost daily,wear a lipstick that so clashes with her hair?” So she said.

"Isn’t it fitting that a girl who clashes with herself almost daily,
wear a lipstick that so clashes with her hair?” 
So she said.

Et j’aurais aimé être ces fillesQui, dans tes chansons, reprennent vie

Et j’aurais aimé être ces filles
Qui, dans tes chansons, reprennent vie

The Thailand Diaries: Mr. Jones’ Orphanage

I haven’t posted anything about my Thailand trip, and that’s a shame because it was such a lovely trip. Been experimenting somewhat with Photoshop Lightroom and came up with these photos of our visit to Mr. Jones’ Orphanage in Siam Center. 

Mr. Jones’ Orphanage is a cafe with a toy-factory/ toy-hospital sort of theme. It’s whimsical, with just a little bit of eeriness, just because of the idea of toy’s being thrown away and moving into the orphanage. It’s lovely if not a little bit cramped because of the gears weaving around the area, and the small seats.

Perspectives

Today during dinner my boyfriend and I talked about, well, I don’t exactly know how to sum it up, but we talked about SM, big industries, the economy, and semi-privatization to name some.

Up to now I’ve usually looked at these sort of things the same way, maybe because the people I’ve talked to have more or less the same perspective, or I guess I just haven’t been too compelled to try to look at things differently. But Mark really explained a lot of aspects that I didn’t think of before or didn’t consider before, and I realized you can’t look at such topics too narrowly. There is always more than one side. 

Today made me think that we are quite different people, we’ve always been different, and although I’ve appreciated that fact ever since, I do even more now. Sometimes I’m really amazed at the way my boyfriend looks at things, or amazed at the things he notices, and my own world and view has definitely become wider since I’ve met him. Honestly, I was a bit hesitant to bring up these sort of topics before because I was afraid of being mistaken about things. But if I don’t try to talk to him about it, I never will get to know his side of things, and that would be a shame. 

Also, today made me think of how we’ve grown a lot as a couple. I haven’t really asked Mark about this sort of thing like, hey, how do you think we’ve changed or you’ve changed compared to earlier in the relationship so I can’t say anything on his part, but for me, I think I’ve become more open, a healthy kind of open, not just the oh here comes my bucket load of feelings please understand me sort of open but just more of a free, it’s easy to frankly tell you things sort of open. I really do feel that we’ve grown a lot. I hope that in some way my presence has helped Mark grow, as his has with me. Today was such a great day, and I’m really so very grateful to have him in my life.

They say that when you grow older it gets harder to put your feelings into words and I think that’s true. I used to be able to write love letters or letters in general fairly easily, but now it’s becoming more difficult. I still feel the same feeling but I can’t as easily convey it as before. I want to write as much as I can before it becomes really hard for me. 

I fell in love with my boyfriend for the first time three or so years ago, and throughout those years I’ve kept on falling in love with him, and this was just another day when I did again. 

I find that I’m always stuck between reality and a dream. 

Whenever I get too fond of one, it always does something for me to be disappointed in it and just go off and choose the other one. 

I’m always in an affair with one or the other. 

"Darkness Becomes Light, Light Falls Into Darkness.Dreams are connected to each other.When you fall into a dreamYou are connected through dreams to “The world enclosed in sleep”. And if you open the “Keyhole of sleep” in that world…The world will be released…”—Yen Sid

"Darkness Becomes Light, Light Falls Into Darkness.
Dreams are connected to each other.
When you fall into a dream
You are connected through dreams to “The world enclosed in sleep”. 
And if you open the “Keyhole of sleep” in that world…
The world will be released…”
—Yen Sid