Iāve been struggling with shit lately and disregarded this blog completely, aside from hittingĀ āshare on tumblrā on Instagram, as you may or may not have noticed.
I have to move on, and in order to do so, I need to remove shit from my life, get the fuck over my own issues.
Iāll return once I feel like it, I guess. In the meantime, you can just pop on Skype to chat, if you want. synzaphine there, just drop me a line as to who you are and Iāll add you. Though ultimately, I will probably not initiate chats, Iām distracted as fuck and always set to busy because the Skype sounds annoy me - and it pops over everything, which brings my attention span to zero. This, however, doesnāt meanĀ ādonāt talk to meā, please do, and Iāll try my best to respond. I like friends. Iām just distracted and irritable. If Iām busy Iāll tell you so.
Updates on my life basically.. its at a turning point. Itās going somewhere, one or two people are involved directly. Iām shaking off past mistakes and getting over fresh wounds. Time heals, yadda yadda.
Tumblr currently hurts me to look at, tbh, so thatās why I decided to remove it for the time being, until Iām more at terms with what I see here. I donāt need the negativity - not talking about the news and important things, but more like personal drama and pointless shitstorms.
I also need to focus on myself for a while. As in self-development.
TL;DR, hiatus because life.
I can be found anywhere else, though. On skype, as I said, on instagram and twitter - sinshatter, if you were wondering - and thatās about it.
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I donāt know how to word what Iām feeling right now. Itās kinda mixed.
Iām glad the people who are in my life presently, are a part of it. Iām glad I have such amazing people around me.
Iām also glad to have such inspiration to look up to and be amazed by. They donāt know who I am, but thatās not a problem. When I listen to them, when I watch them, theyāll inspire me to do greater things, and thatās what matters.
Everybody writes their own stories, and in each story whispered into the endless depths of life, we are legends, birthed by legends.
Iām also sad that those who wanted to leave, left. Iām not sure what Iāve done to them, but I respect their choices and wish them well. Some, I removed, for their actions were something that I felt toxic.
Iām only sad that I couldnāt help them. Perhaps theyāre better now.Ā
Each scar teaches something that nobody else can live or see. Thatās how life is, eh?
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If itās not you, is it safe to hate you too?
Why not show respect?
If someone wants to respect their culture, what do you do?Ā
You sayĀ āIām sorry, Iāll be more careful.ā
If someone disrespects you but sincerely apologizes, what do you do?
You educate them in a calm and patient manner, and tell them why this is important for you and for them to respect it.
If thereās no one to free, who are you trying to liberate? That Muslim girl with a headscarf, or yourself?
Before you do or say something, question yourself.
Are you trying to protect something you have no idea about? Is it limited to what you know via internet? Internetās a good source, but itās easy to grab the wrong information.
Are you trying to protect someone, or trying to make yourself feel special, or even praised?
Question your motives and your knowledge.
Spend time with people with an open mind, no matter whatās the outcome. Everything is an experience, good or bad.Ā
Reason your hate.
Reason your love.
Think. Itās free.
If I write things that make me look like Iām depressed, Iām usually not. I mean, itās kinda complicated, I guess. It used to be venting, but now itās more of a tracking my emotions. I donāt feel sad, Iām observing myself.
Does that make any sense?
Anyway, Iām gonna hide the rest under Read More, to save some space to people who donāt want to read me analyzing myself.
I canāt remember ever feeling love. Perhaps the rejection of the father figure, perhaps lacking a male figure all together, or maybe something else that I have not yet reached as a reason. The point is, Iāve never felt love. Not in that sense.
Did I not love my friends, family? I loved them, of course. But I could never show it. Aside from being protective, Iād bully people I love. Iād poke fun at them, give sarcastic remarks or make bad puns. I tried to make them be happy. But I could never put on a serious face and tell them I loved them.
Whenever I tried, I would freeze up. The words would knot in my throat and would refuse to get out.
Why?
And how am I to remedy this?
I keep denying the emotions I feel. I tell myself - I canāt be loved. I tell myself, Love is not real.
Family is real. My friends are my family, too.
But deep down I know itās real. I pray itās real. And I pray it would somehow find me.
My body canāt carry the expectations my mind has.
Every time I try to accept the emotions my insides collapse by the weight of it, it becomes too intense. Is it normal, is it abnormal, or is my lack of perspective makes me delusional? Why must it scare me so to say something so simple, to accept what is in human nature, to embrace it?
I wish your eyes fell upon me the way they do when they marvel at the night sky.
I refuse the romantic fool inside of me, I shun her, I shun everything about that side of me entirely - I know sheās there. Sheās as real and I know she suffers, she cries at the rejection but what can she do when her host doesnāt want her?
Why? Because sheās weak? Because she trusts people blindly and that brought us nothing but trouble? Because she sees the good, loves and protects instead of shutting herself down?
I breathed life into a dream and it looked like you. I placed the stars I cried into your eyes and watched them twinkle, and I gave you... gave you...
What makes me so afraid, the hurt that Iāve been a slave of for years repeating itself, or the change that has no clear outcome?
The raven sung a song yet nobody heard how it cried itās sadness in small squawks.
Or is it because my heart has grown so weak that I decided it was only going to get damaged? So I shoved it in a cage, and kept it where no one could find it. I coated it with barbs so whoever touched it only got stung.
My will had grown stronger as I survived my own hell, and slowly adapted back to life. Though I had issues with myself, I told myself, I can fix it. I can fix what I donāt like about my body, about my life.. But can I fix my personality? Is it broken? Does it really need fixing?Ā
Feathers like the night sky, eyes like the open sea under a sunny day.
Why must I confuse myself so? Maybe this is the reason why I shun all these emotions. Maybe.
Or maybe Iām just not strong enough to handle such a strong emotion, and afraid Iāll get crushed under it.
I gave you life in a dream. Tāwas a dream, and a dream only, yet Iām afraid, if I were to fall in a coma, I wouldnāt be able to wake up because of this dream.
