Friday, 6 December 2013


Wow. December. How did we get here. Time flies, that one phrase to recap this year so far.
Setting foot into the last month of 2013 feels surreal. Just 11 months ago, I was enrolled into college, trying to grasp the idea of me being independent, feeling terribly intimidated every single day because unlike most of the pretty girls in my college, I don't wear makeup or dress up fancifully to classes. I may put on that cheery face when I talk to people but all I wanted to do was to keep my head as low as possible. My grades only see to me being in a blue funk. I paid attention during lessons, but much to my greatest dismay, I didn't always understand. And when I failed to understand, I decided to be a coward and run away from the problems. I was ashamed of myself, how everyone else could understand the moment the lecturer explained and I- I just...

I wanted to make friends, but was painfully afraid of what people may think about me- weird, stupid, ugly, fat, lame... I guess my smile masked my fear and downheartedness a bit- but deep down, I was mostly depressed, disconsolate and every single day has been a tearful, brutal battle with the of violent, negative thoughts threatening to tear me apart.

I think I was scared. So, so scared. I didn't know how I was going to cope with all the stress, tension, anxiety attacks- I think if my life in college had been the Hunger Games, I'd be the first one to be taken down by the other tributes and cause the canon to sound, because I've spent most of the time in college worrying, panicking, mentally putting myself down, which wouldn't help with the planning of strategies or at least keeping the faith to survive.

I am lucky to have made friendly, funny friends- friends who would mock me, tease me, laugh with me, but not necessarily friends who would share my sorrow or to ease my pain. I guess a major part is my fault though- I seem to push people away, people who care, people who are kind to me, people who offer their help. I keep to myself most of the time, and am awfully reluctant to open myself. I don't like to appear as a weakling, to admit imperfection (oh the irony, I am mad imperfect). I don't know what I have been trying to prove. That I don't succumb to vulnerability? That nothing could bother me? That even on my own, I can survive? I hadn't been living for a long, long time. I have been merely existing- which let me be honest, cannot be any more tormenting. I don't understand myself either.

My family has been patient, tolerant, helpful in every way possible. And I'm glad to say I've been mending things with my parents, particularly my dad, who I realise, has always been there for me- not all the time, but moments when I need him, he's there to hold, to catch me when I fall, to gently stroke my hair, to hold my hands and offer me his pleasant, handsome, comforting smile. And my brother, oh, has I mentioned how much he has grown? How his companion brings joy to my parents and I? But that's a post for another day.

I guess it's true, that you can only change your life if you take charge of it. That no one can actually help you, if you don't help yourself first. That sometimes life sucks, that the pain that you experience feels like a pack of wolves sinking their razor sharp teeth into your flesh, and you're left with nothing but bones and a wounded soul, that no one is really going to lend their hand because they couldn't care less about you because they've got things to be concerned of, that life is dreadfully unfair, that life goes on, and that you could be bitter about it and sulk your entire way through life, or stand back up, chin up, dress up, and give your best shot in everything you do, and never give up even when you fall a thousand times.

It's easier said than done, but I'm sick of living down in the dumps. I am willing to make peace with myself. I am willing to let go of the burden weighing me down, and I won't start any other day, but today. I will try, I will.

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