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Sure, I had always been a somewhat sad and very fearful child, but I think this one specific question and all of the other questions that started surfacing with it drove me insane and towards depression.

To be honest, I think I’ve had a slumber-like, dormant form of depression ever since I was 10. From that certain point in my life onwards, it was never the same again. And I like to think that a big part of the child in me died, forever, as melodramatic as that sounds.  There were many future attempts to retrieve it. They all ended up feeling fake and unnatural. I was a child, but was I a child? What did it feel like to be mindless, stupid, uninhibited and happy? I looked at the children and saw daytime, sunburnt skin, sand beneath fingernails, no questions asked and yet all their questions answered. And then there was me. I couldn’t stop thinking and my mind was running like crazy and no one responded to my questions and pleas, and suddenly the world didn’t seem endless anymore and everything was mortal and fleeting and nobody was there and the others were there but I was so far away. I had damaged my own head to a point of no repair. Was I still human?

And then, with 11, I started sleeping underneath the blankets in an attempt to suffocate myself and stop the endless stream of sadness that arose with being aware. That was admittedly stupid and born from a superstition we children believed in - that you would actually suffocate in your sleep if you covered your head - but the remote hope was there and my curiosity peaked. What if...?

When I was 13, I changed my life for the better. It was a very, very slow and tedious process. I realized there were a lot of good things waiting for me, a lot of happiness and joy I would miss out on if I didn’t live past age 10. So I did. Was it good? Was I happy? In retrospect, I have forgotten. There was a lot of fear and hatred, animosity and dismay at my peers who didn’t seem to be following my (admittedly) destructive train of thought at all. I felt so alone.Yet despite, I didn’t do anything, I’m still alive, and that makes me happy.

By age 16, after efforts to blend in and finally be normal and stupid and happy again, I was almost normal again. But then came around another season of depression, one that would drive me to another point of craziness when I started daydreaming about death, drafting farewell letters and preparing for the scenarios that would inevitably happen after I was gone. Planning and mapping things out in this stupid, reckless mind of mine. The gears were back to running.

By age 18 I finally graduated, and everything became better.

Or so it should have... I am 21 now, but I feel like I have lived through most of my life already. I feel like there is nothing much to be felt that I want to feel anymore. I feel like I lived through four or three stages of myself. Running on a lonely side track next to the road that everybody seemed to be taking, enjoying, relishing in. There’s nothing wrong about taking the scenic route, by all means, but sometimes it’s just not the one that was meant for you.  And whenever I look back and down upon myself, I see a small frame, yellow fingernails, unkempt hair, hunkering down to hide in its own shadow. Something slowly dissolving into itself. Am I floating? Is this the past? Is this now? Am I conscious? I can see myself. Am I dead?

The world belongs to you. You shape it, you own it, you make it. It doesn’t belong to people like me, who were practically born into death, silently yearning for it to sweep down upon oneself.

I just wish it came about later, maybe not when I was 10 but maybe 15, or even older. I just wish my mother could have spent more time with her daughter before she died and was replaced by something darker, sinister, estranged. 

As we climbed the slope (which wasn't equipped yet with the escalator it nowadays boasts), I felt myself running out of breath. I have a weak constitution and low stamina. But I tried not to let it show, I didn't want to disturb this moment, I didn't want to stir the perfect silence of the warm summer night and I didn't want this moment to change by the slightest disturbance. Not one arythmic breath, not one misplaced footstep. Everything had to stay the way it was. A part of me wanted time to stop.

‘I want to become good friends.’

Is what I thought, hoping it was mutual.

I still want to become friends. Not more than that, and not less than that.

It's become yet another silent yearning in the back of my head, a very similar feeling to the warm memories I have of wanting to commit suicide. I know it sounds terribly wrong, but so was my development and thus many of my pleasant memories. But alas.

I should talk about myself more often.

I should probably voice my opinion more often, too.

I don’t care if anybody starts thinking I’m selfish or a bad listener. I shouldn’t care. My opinions and thoughts matter and I really need to learn that I’m interesting and I can be interesting and people want to hear about me and I really just, I need to learn that. 

they have always been numerous. A silent child, not the most talkative, but oh so talkative once she feels safe and listened to. A never-ending flurry of words, a tiny cute mouth with round lips that just needed to be shut up sometimes. Sometimes too often. Always by herself.

The nights were long and the days short, but some days were sweet enough to make up for the early nightfalls throughout this life. 

All the pains, fears, hopes and wishes I had,

I locked them into my heart, throwing the key into the ocean and burning every ship at bay so that I could never retrieve it. Then they overflowed. And all came out at once.

It was one of those extremely rare occasions in my life that I let myself slip, and as always, I let myself slip severely, and everybody got hurt again. Except they don’t know yet. I know.

I’m usually good with that. I’m good at self-control. One of the only things I pride myself with - An unnecessarily terrific skill to restrain yourself, hold everything back.

Not this time.

You are so incredibly beautiful, I want you to know and remember this everyday. And even if you do forget, take your time as long as you can remember again, someday, when you need it.

That said. 

Dogs.

One day, I will be able to hug my sisters again.

I’m sure the day will come when I have overcome all of my personal development issues and bonding anxiety, 

There was a time in which I felt like I had no friends.

Actually, that is my constant state of mind despite that being untrue.

I’m even gonna meet some of them tomorrow.

Lately I’ve been more prone to sudden thoughts like: “Set yourself on fire” “jump out the window” “Sleep on the street”. Not that I’d ever go through with any of them, but sometimes my brain just needs to go completely crazy irrational, u feel me?! It’s like, taking a brain-y breather.

Not that I’d be using my brain often anyway.

But alas.

UHM, SO I’M?? ONLY SEEING THIS NOW, very probably 2 years late, BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH! Please do drop by again at another event, maybe Dokomi? I absolutely love talking to everyone who honors me with their follow. 

Hnnngh, what a sweet fluff ball of cloudy wholesomeness you are. Sorry for making you worry and thank you for still sticking with me...! Especially because I turned this blog into more of a diary than an art blog, and especially because I changed fandoms so drastically.