I think I’ll go outside and take a slow walk.

           My insomnia is back and it’s worse than ever before. I keep pushing everyone away from me because I have these seemingly immovable thorns and spikes on me that will only end up hurting them if they get too close. I’d rather be by myself than with anybody else, although most of the times that’s all just a lie. My heart keeps pounding, throbbing, and aching with this unbearably awkward and miserable pain. My head hurts. My chest hurts. My eyes are bleary. I feel like I have this shortage of oxygen and my panic attacks are starting to come by more frequently now, at the most inconvenient of times. I’ve been clean for almost two years now, but, these days, I can feel myself struggling just to get by. I can almost feel the blade in the drawer of my room tempting me, calling to me. This is like running in circles all over again. Maybe I’m just chasing my own tail.

           But, I’m trying to stay the bright candle that I’ve always envisioned myself to be. I’m trying to be strong. I’m slowly getting back into my books and writing, so at least there is that positive thing.

           Cheers to pre-semester woes.

           I’m feeling one of those 4:56 A.M pains right now - the one where your heart shrivels up, crumples, and slithers down through the chutes to your empty stomach like a dead body slumped, sliding, and slipping against a paint-chipped wall that almost taunts the chip on your shoulder. It’s just a hunch, but something tells me that this can’t be simply remedied with warm cups of earl grey tea or a thrilling book to divert my attention elsewhere. No, this hurts and runs much deeper than what it seems.

Who, what, have I become?

           Years old receipts with faded ink, smudged with grease stains from various restaurants with distant friends. Rusted friendship bracelets and dusty rubber wristbands honoring the many clubs that I had joined throughout those middle school and high school days that now seem so far away and faded. Collections of unsent letters. Crumpled up notes passed around during my classes, indulging in the thrill of never getting caught by the teacher, and disintegrating napkins from my mother with no more than a sentence, telling me to enjoy my day.

           All of these, and more — I have thrown out.

           The old me would have been stupefied and stunned.

           I’m still not sure if I feel better or worse, for accepting to let go of what has happened and for who I have become right now - because I’m not sure if I like who I am. Sometimes I feel like I’m walking in somebody else’s bag of bones and skin. It’s uncomfortable, disheartening, and alien.

           I remember when I used to read books for hours, pour over the pages, inspect them over and over again, read in between the lines, and revel in the sheer beauty of them because they are so much more than black letters, constructed sentences, and bound paper pages. I remember when I used to go outside much more frequently, marvel in the suffocating embrace of nature, and enjoy stretching my muscles and ligaments to their fullest extent.

           All these things I have been remembering recently, but it frightens me that I had forgotten about everything that had encased my entire being along the many crusted years. Where is that fuel that fired up my soul, that passion that ignited my heart, and the same thing that made me hunger for more of life?

           What a lousy day for my twentieth birthday.

More, please?

           I’m in this phase where I can’t understand how you are so bad for me, yet so good. It’s like, every single time that our eyes strike, I’m sipping on my favorite whiskey; you intoxicate me, you give me that warm buzz, and you make me want more than just a couple of sips, but I know that I shouldn’t. I honestly shouldn’t even be ten feet near you. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going mental because there’s this magnetic pull that draws me towards you — not so much that it makes it extremely obvious that I want to be near you constantly, but just enough to make me go mad with these fantastical imaginative scenes that my brain conjures up.

           You excite me with these little things that you don’t normally show towards other people because you act like you’re so goddamn heartless and emotionless all the time. (I guess that’s why the effect is that much greater and that’s why I remember so deeply with my heart and not just with my mind.) Those rare moments where you’re pinching or tugging on my cheek with your thumb and index finger with a gentleness that you never reveal to anybody. The way that you pat, pet, and caress the top of my head, all the way down, almost to my neck, smoothing out my hair - as if you have already known that that comforts me and that I love it. And that one, firm pat on my back that gives me such a weird sense of happiness, almost an ecstasy, of knowing that you are satisfied with me and with whatever I have done.

           This all coming from you who has never shown anything but apathy and indifference - somebody who I once severely disliked, with you probably having the same feelings towards me too… But now - wow, have things drastically changed.

           Your eyes light up when I see you and the way that you try to hide your smile by smirking or by putting me down with harsh words makes me feel so childishly giddy. Something has changed between us and I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the way that I feel towards you and maybe I’m just making everything up in my head, but… It’s still different than before. A good kind of different.

           I should probably not keep a knife in one of the drawers of my room. It’s too tempting.

Tonight, past tonight.

           Shuffling rocks between my feet in the tiny stoop of my backyard reminded me of that night that you whispered to me if I was scared of the dark, grabbing so naturally for my hands and putting them around your waists, letting me rest my head against your broad chest, leaving us to sway to the rhythm of your heart and to the subtle current of the cool summer breeze. I thought about it for a brief moment and answered back with a slight, affirmative nod and an airy “yes”, just because I wanted that moment to last for an eternity. And I’m pretty sure that I felt your chest rise with a deep chuckle, fully knowing that I was simply kidding around with you. And we stayed there for a little while, feeling a bit awkward and flushed with an innocent excitement, even though there were dozens of people around us running about to get to their own cabins, screaming beloved good night’s to each other — girls and boys weren’t allowed to really interact with each other, as this was a church retreat. Oops, guess that one rule slipped with us.

           So I lit a match today and smoked a cigarette in bittersweet remembrance of that strange night in the forests of Pennsylvania. Nothing went beyond what I just described and we never spoke about it the morning after. And even though we’ve never really gotten to know each other on deeper levels than we would have liked to, we’ve always had this unusual pull, this attraction, between us; and I find it pretty remarkable and comforting… I saw you recently, actually, unexpectedly — I won’t dare to bring it up with you, but I just wanted to thank you for giving me such a tender memory to look back upon.

Breathing is laboring.

           I have this sandpit in my heart that keeps growing larger and larger, carrying this misconception that I could keep filling the void with things that can’t really fill it. Sometimes I plan on leaving, so I stop talking to people altogether, wanting them to feel at least some of the emptiness that I have been feeling. Is that bad of me? Well, I think that people, ultimately, are selfish and the root of everyone’s actions is so that they can all derive something from it, even if the intent is trying to be selfless. That being said, I guess I can’t argue or get angry when some of my closest friends (well, “close friends”) throw me off to the side and leave me to wonder whether or not we were even friends at all.

           I want to distance myself from people, but where is that going to lead me? And is it really worth the trouble?

           Maybe I should really consider saving up to move out to a new country or state and escape from everything that is holding me back here. And yeah, you can chide me and tell me that things somewhere else isn’t going to be any more different there than over here, but for one thing — I’ll be going to a new place with new people. I won’t have to worry about trying to always clean up the messiness that people in my past have left for me. I won’t have to worry about running into anyone I know, ever.

           There’s a looming sadness and loneliness that I can’t shake today, no matter how hard I try.

What I have learned, I have forgotten.

           I don’t think that this is what I ever wanted and I don’t think that this is what I have ever imagined what would have happened if I told myself that I was ready for this. It all seems a little hazy, a bit blurry, and a lot of hurt that has piled up in the confines of my chest, waiting to bleed out and sap every bit of energy and hope that I have been harboring inside of me… But I guess that’s what always happens when time seeps past you without you ever realizing that you’re slowly rotting away, until you consider taking a moment to think about who you are, where you are, and where you could have been or potentially could be in the next however few months.

           I am becoming more and more disgusted by my actions, myself, and what my heart feels because it all seems so fake and routine. I don’t mean to say that I’m being fake (well, isn’t everybody fake to a certain extent?), but I think that that saying “fake it ‘till you make it” holds no merit. In hindsight to my words and actions, I just feel incredibly narcissistic and repulsively ignorant. There is a clear line between working towards being who you want to be and pretending to be that person; the most difficult part is not succumbing to the latter.

           Where is my conviction? Where is that steel that turned me into a workaholic machine who wanted to be extroverted, connected with the world, and acquire all the good, better things in life?

           I keep thinking that leaving is the solution, but is it really?

           I’m beginning to worry. A lot.

Stream of consciousness - desensitize me.

           I’ve been feeling pretty lousy all day and it’s almost as if my own brain has been endlessly encouraging this engrossed emotion of utter lousiness. I can’t quite pinpoint where I went wrong in this whole mess of mine, why I choose to trudge on this terrible pathway as a default, and I’m sort of at this point where nothing really matters (like the entire process of how I got here) except for the end conclusion of these matters. I keep feeling discomforted by the fact that I’ve become so disconnected with most of my close friends - well, they used to be close friends, anyways. And I keep on overbearingly worry about certain, careless people because far too many people in my vicinity have been passing away into the afterlife, whether it be through a gruesome suicide or a tragic accident of overusing drugs. Life, everything that we [can thankfully] touch, see, hear, and absorb through our thoughts and senses - these are all real things. It can’t get any more real than this. And I keep seeing these people around me throwing their lives away over petty, minuscule things, material objects, or people… I want to shake them by their shoulders and ask them to please look at the world from a different perspective than the one that they wallow and throw self-pity parties in. (Well, I can’t say much about this one because I’m pretty guilty and hypocritical myself, but I presume that you would understand the idea.) Point is, we are only granted one, single, absolute life and this time, the time that I am writing this or the time that you are reading this, is something that we will never ever be able to get back. Can you think of anything more special, important, or precious than that?

           As of late, I find myself bathing in many uncertainties, unsure of whether I am floating or drowning. All I can do is to head on forward, reminding myself to take in a deep breath with every step that I take, because this pent up anxiety really does pile up and ruin me. I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of lonely lately and in need of a coffee run and physical company. I miss the people who are always coming in and out of my life as they please, but am I willing to constantly get my heart broken and disappointed?

           I don’t know where this is going, so I will lay my thoughts and aching heart here to a lingering pause.