#sy_journal

journal entries.

these are original, so please refrain from stealing them. i want to post these to vent but i guess i also want to inspire in some way. have fun!

— content

someday :: an unsent letter to my soulmate. i don't have romantic feelings for her but i guess you could say it's something more and something better.

birthday woes :: the first thing to greet me on this day each year are my tears. if anything, you could no longer say it was out of sadness but a ritual.

childhood :: my childhood is a foggy memory, but i'll never forget this day. it's a decision that changed my life forever and i'm grateful but who could i have been if my strengths were better nurtured?

shame :: shame is a feeling i can never easily reconcile with, and yet i have to live with it.

Is it a lost passion or just covered in dust, waiting to be swept and acknowledged again?

I don't understand myself. I love karate so much, but I don't want to go back. At every call from my instructor to go back and train, I end up with an excuse not to go—I'm too busy, I have exams coming up, I have schoolwork to tend to.

Or maybe it's shame.

I'm ashamed of myself. I built myself in this club and this community, half of my personality is thanks to karate. Majority of my development is thanks to karate. My values and discipline is a reflection of karate.

At some point in time, I started losing myself then I became ashamed of myself and my losses to even go back and train. It was a fight of honoring where I stood and what karate, my belt, and my wins meant to me, and how I appeared to my peers. It no longer became a place of training to become better, but training to keep up appearances and my pride intact.

I no longer became an active member. I was like a gust of wind, coming back strong for a while only to disappear later. I became discouraged when I was shown an ounce of disrespect. Maybe they didn't mean to outright disrespect me, just a little banter, but I couldn't take it given my state of mind during that time. It made me overthink, was I not worthy of respect, given my belt? Or was I not respected because of how I received my belt?

Even my days of training became unsure yet I still steadily moved up ranks like the rest. I, of course, demonstrated my skills, especially kata. I do well in kata. That's how I got a purple belt. We were tasked to perform a lower belt's kata blindfolded and my form was apparently good and I had good direction until I turned back and slowly started going diagonal. It was still good, as told by my instructors and seniors.

Fast forward months later, more juniors came to join the club and I seldom saw them and yet when I did, I couldn't even receive a bow. I was the one to bow with full respect, yet I would only receive an "ossu" or a glance. Not even a turn around to bow, and just because they'd already turned their backs, they'd forever turn them on me too. I guess that's what discouraged me.

Or maybe it's because what once became mine to hold were held by someone else. She's far better, she deserves it. She trains constantly, her determination and passion unwavering and she's moving up and up. She became the one to lead the oath last NOrSAA, and my pride took a blow. I remember I once looked up at a senior, who is now an international player, he was the one to lead those every start of the tournament and I strived to become the next athlete in his place, but I longer have that. I can't catch up anymore because the realities of life are catching up to me.

I once held that dream, a dream that's now somebody else's reality. I'll forever be stuck here, dreaming, while she lives out my dream—my dream becoming her reality. I'm becoming redundant. I admit, I'm jealous. I'm so jealous, but I can't bring myself to bear ill feelings because I know where I lack, and I know my own shortcomings. I should've trained consistently, I shouldn't have been with the people who messed up my life because if things had gone a different direction, maybe I wouldn't be saying any of these things.

I don't feel worthy of holding onto this passion—this passion I failed to nurture. A wall of shame now builds itself, partitioning myself and my love for this art, but what tools do I have to break through it? Does it stand firm between us or am I turning my eye from what I actually have to break through it and hold it—this passion—once more?

But I'm not ready to face what's beyond this wall. I know what awaits me, but I also don't. There's too much uncertainty but this uncertainty comes from my own insecurities on what people perceive me to be. 'A fallen talent,' I bet. There's someone better out there, they don't need me. I'm no longer the one they look at. Best in kata? That's no longer something I hold, because when they hear that, someone else reaches their thoughts and that's not me. I feel so much shame, wearing a high rank belt yet I don't show up when I'm supposed to. I wear a high rank belt when someone else deserves an acceleration. I wear a high rank belt yet I don't prove myself worthy, I've fallen from my podium and I don't deserve to wear this with pride.

'I deserve this,' I remind myself, 'It was approved by the sensei,' I reason with myself yet even with that proof, I can't accept it in my heart. I don't deserve it. Before rank acceleration, I always strive to become someone worthy of the next belt whether that's mastering my form or building my character, that's why I could always wear my belt with pride, even at orange. But purple? I'm ashamed. I've lagged behind. I shouldn't compare my progress beside others' but I can't help it, I'm not deserving of it.

Ever since I started karate, I always hung up my medals on the wall by my bed. They look down at me from my right side to remind me of what I work hard for and what I love so much, my whole being is encompassed by it. Yet one night, I took them down. I hid them away in my drawer and they never saw light again. I brought them back up but it no longer feels the same.

I remember a specific day.

I stood outside of the house I briefly grew up in and spoke with my aunt, who was more of a sister because of our one year age gap and shared routines. I was 7 years old, she was 8. We were talking about high school and what plans we had made for the future. I was sure I would stay there with her.

We spoke about going to [school name], and I saw no other high school fit for me. I envisioned myself wearing the green skirt with the necktie, completely forgetting the red plaid skirt I once wore. I had nothing to lose, so it was easy to let go and embrace this change without hesitation, until the one day we traveled back here that it was going to be for forever.

There's nothing else but family for me back there, but I feel some type of longing that I can't quite place. Something like knowing I'll make a decision, or maybe a decision I didn't make, that would influence where else I end up instead of the one I'd previously planned and envisioned.

Thinking about the future is not something I do intentionally, it hits me like an existential crisis. I start to worry endlessly because I always realize I don't know what I want to be, while everyone else around me has it all figured out. I was once sure—steadfast and didn't consider being anything else. My dreams were solid and vivid, but now it's all a blur.

To be loved by me is to be etched in frost.

To be kept still and unchanging inside the cold walls of my heart. Not the cold that leaves you shivering and numb, but one that stops you from melting, drifting. Life melts things; people change and moments slip, while my heart continues to capture and cling to the fleeting.

Like the cold air under the rainy sky inside the warmth of home, kept still inside and wrapped in silence while the world continues to spin in a blur. To protect and preserve what matters most to me before the embers of reality erodes them—my love, memories, and people.

It's cold tonight, but I found my warmth with the people I'll only ever need. Happy 17th on the 17th.

Albeit we are separated physically; we do not walk on the same concrete roads, or surround ourselves with relevantly similar people, it is not inapt that we live under the same sky.

We may presently reside in far-flung countries, though I still remain beside you. I am filled to the brim with the desire to be with you, to stand there beside you, to walk on the same lands and stand under the same patch of clouds with you, but it is simply impossible.

I cannot reach you, nor can you reach me because of our circumstances, but I shall find my way to you, someday.