Des Pensées Étranges

Entering the certain relationship, I could say I sorta forced myself to like the guy even if I didn’t find anything about him attractive other than his physical appearance. Sure, it was sorta bad but at the same time I did see it coming along. I did see us breaking up in the future.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. Fuck yes, it did fucking hurt when he called it off and it hurt a lot when he didn’t tell me the real reason.

He only said, “I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.”

That’s a fucking bullshit reason. Obviously, I felt horrible cause I felt like it was my fault for the break up for being pissed off at him the other day but after knowing the real reason, I just felt much more lighter for finding out that it wasn’t exactly me who’s done something wrong.

Maybe it was wrong for me to keep the relationship going when technically the only thing interesting about it was kissing and hugging. We never really had a connection. The closest for us on having a connection is our heart to heart talks.

I guess the reason I cried is because at some point I did seem to love him and he did seem to love me too but that love probably didn’t exactly come a long way.

Me: Then remember the things that made you stay alive.

Him: There isn't much.

Me: Then how are you alive right now?

Him: You're the only thing I could think of right now as a reason to stay alive.

Me: Don't give me that bullshit.

Him: It's true.

Him: What if I died this year?

Me: Then I'd hate you so fucking much.

Him: Why?

As you may or may not know, I’m not exactly that kind of person who’d usually be liked in school. Sure, I have a few crushes here and there but that’s just about it. Though I have never experienced the feeling of being loved by another person.

And holy crap, it feels fucking good. Taking it from a person who hasn’t experienced anything close to love (that’s me) though can predict other’s relationships through realistic views, heck did I not know how love feels.

I completely understand now. I swear, I do. Love is freaking blind. No, I don’t mean it in the sense that people who look at physical appearances are blind and those who look in the personality are really good and all that bullshit.

I meant it by, “Love makes you blind.”

It could be in a positive way or a negative way. The positive part of it makes everything around you more brighter, all those people with evident bad sides have hidden good sides and you see those instead. Love makes me feel a bit clouded in the mind though.

That’s the negative part of it. I’m starting to lose that realistic-pessimistic perspective on life and slowly I’m turning a little bit optimistic about things.

Sometimes I wonder why it’s alright for parents to treat their children as if they were dumb little creatures but they don’t allow to treat their parents the same.

During class today, we tackled about how parents raise their children and the effects it give on the child. Let’s say if your parents tend to force you on something, let’s say studies and academics, then in the future you will tend to have this mentality to turn you into a grade conscious person.

You know... the kind of person who can’t accept having a low grade?

Simply because they fear their parents’ disappointment. And that’s what pisses me off sometimes.

Sure, they just want the best for their child but sometimes they just push them too far. Teaching their child to live a life that they themselves couldn’t do. It sucks honestly.

As you may or may not know, I’m quite a dancer and a singer. I love singing and dancing most of the time. I’d usually practice in my parents’ room because they have a big-ass mirror there that could show my whole body.

They were just discussing things and I just freaking wanted to dance for a bit. And my mom just suddenly goes like, “Can you stop? Your actions aren’t appreciated here. It doesn’t make us happy.”

And all that processed in my mind was, “Mom, I’m dancing for my own fucking happiness. Just because some stupid-ass bitch, who could probably be you, doesn’t like it doesn’t mean they’re the people I’m trying to impress. Sure, you’re my mom and all but teach respect to your fucking child and maybe she’ll respect you the way you fucking want her to.”

Yeah sure mom. She’d probably go around saying, “I don’t care. I’m your mother and you’re not supposed to talk to me like that. I gave birth to you, worked my ass off for you and even pay for things you want. At least freaking acknowledge the things I offer you.”

But all I could say to that is: “Mom, there’s always a choice to leave me behind. If you think I’m such a burden to be taken care of then you should’ve just aborted me or something.”

But honestly, mom... Do you even love me? Like legitimate? Do you love me just because I’m your daughter and that’s how society teaches you to be? Do you love me because I came out of your vagina and inherited your genes? Do you love me because I’m a replica of you that’ll make a much more successful life that you dreamed of having?

Why do you even love me?

What is there to love about me? I could be the disrespectful child and the disobedient rebellious bitch you never wanted me to be. I’m not forever going to hold my tongue from swearing in front of you. I don’t care if people are too dense to understand my point of view or as you say ‘my point of knowledge’.

Sometimes in this family, I don’t know what love is anymore. Is love even something that exists around here? How come you never bothered to teach me what it truly meant? And maybe things are answered by experiments and exposure to the environment but what if experiences don’t prove emotions?

What will prove them now? 

Because honestly, my dreams are unrealistic and you all doubt on what I dream on becoming in the future. And that’s why I have fucking self doubt. Because I know that my own blood knows that I will not succeed on it. And it hurts because people say I have potential and I could reach that dream of mine.

Honestly, I wish I could believe them but I don’t. 

I’m not entirely putting the blame on you as well. I sort of... blame myself actually.

Sometimes, I wish I didn’t take things too seriously. I wish I was fucking normal like everyone else. I wish I knew how to deal with my anxiety. I wish I knew how to talk to you.

I wish I knew.