this is awksome

I was fifteen when I first entered college. I’m far from being a genius. I did skip a year of kindergarten and went straight to grade school. Pretty common, to be honest.

And like many others, I was a victim of my country’s terrible education system.

Not-so-fun fact: Our secondary education weren’t supposed to be four years. Kids weren’t supposed to enter college at fifteen/sixteen. Beginning 1945, my country’s whole education program was a whole work-in-progress project. A cliffhanger system that only got concluded in 2015.

So at a naïve age of fifteen, I was forced to make a life-altering decision.

Am I making up an excuse? Yes? No? Probably... but I digress.

I was young and expected to choose right. I grew a little bit each year but never did I question the big picture. I was unwavering to the belief that I should be spending my college years blindly following what others say.

Finish the degree you started. Or you’ll wind up taking a hodgepodge of units and you’ll be dealing with strangers for classmates. You’ll disappoint your parents. You’ll get the neighbors and relatives talk about you,

Little did I know I needed the mistakes. I needed the imperfection. I needed to get out and talk to strangers who may help me widen my point of view.

But as the eldest daughter of an Asian household and an above average student, I ignored that need.

I was happy taking the backseat,

Now, I’m turning 29 (shit) and I’m not near to anything that I want to be.

I know... I know... None of us, even the biggest most accomplished names, have got it all figured it out.

But it’s regret that I want to acknowledge right now. I sometimes go into self-pep talk mode without even fully realizing my emotions yet.

This is me... just... regretting how much I basically NPC-ed my early life.

But what am I gonna do, right? Just hold my breath every time I see another accomplished 29-year-old. The married. The well-traveled. The well-made. 

I’ll be hiding the fact that I am none of those. 

I’ll be suppressing the feeling of dread as I watch my parents age. 

My current reel doesn’t have enough highlights to be active on social media,

Romance is... something I can not afford.

...and I’m a 28-tuning-29-year-old eldest daughter living in her parents’ home making her freelance lifestyle work during a pandemic in a third-world country.

We’ve all got issues. I know. Shit. Let me be selfish just this once. I’ve been afraid of airing thoughts because even I sometimes think they’re not enough.

How do I end this post...

It’s almost the New Year here. So here’s me... hoping I get bolder. I quit my toxic cult of a job this year. That’s a win. I’m hoping a year is enough for me to make more things happen. 

Once I finally leap out of my comfort zone (I’m still tippy toeing right now) and do things myself, I’ll have more energy to be a better friend, a better sister, and a better daughter. I’m too insecure to be all those things right now. 

I'm now constantly putting a conscious effort to not self-deprecate.

Whether it's my appearance or my creation/projects, I can't find myself to be proud of who I am or what I do.

Now, I'm unlearning... and every time it takes me a humungous amount of effort not to take myself lightly.

I've already robbed myself of the fun, of potential friends, of experiences, because I was too absorbed in self-loathing.

I drank with friends once and they told me the opposite of what I usually tell myself. People actually like me (more than I realize.)

Now, that I'm on my one and a half year of being a twenty-something. I wanna cram and do things right.

Anyway... I'm sleepy lol. This isn't the poetic romantic entry I envisioned. This is more like a messy rant. But still glad I wrote something here after a very long time...

you wake up at the sound of your alarm but instead of feeling muddled and unwilling, your day starts off cheery. today’s schedule is already set.

first up on the agenda: coffee. taking in the aroma of caffeine, you sit beside your window. you peer at the beautiful cityscape in front of you.

strange. 

outside, it’s buzzing but on the inside, you feel at peace—and hungry, so you start chowing down the fried rice you made from yesterday’s leftovers. 

right. like a déjà vu, you notice how this scene seemed all too familiar. 

didn’t you envision this day back then? that cringe-y tumblr post you wrote to remind you of your goal.

you thought you’d never get to this day, but you’re happy. you look in the mirror and believe in your smile.

it seemed yesterday when you first took that big leap of faith, when you stopped believing in someone else’ promise of stability, and when you’ve quit climbing up those frail stairs. for the first time in your life, you stood your ground, ran straight into the unknown, and risked failing.

it was like jumping from a one-foot platform. it took you so much time to let go. but when you did, you felt relieved, happy, and frankly a bit stupid.

crazy how your mind plays tricks on you. crazy how you believed in people who didn’t believe in you. 

crazy how this bowlful of fried rice can be gone in a flash. you chuckled at the thought that brought you right back to the present.

like reading nugatory details of history books, it’s easy to underestimate the risks and sacrifices you’ve done in the past. but i’m sure that, during those moments, you felt frightened, lost, and occasionally disheartened because the destination was still unknown.

and so if you were to talk to your past self, you want to tell her to keep going no matter how much of a failure she thinks she is. 

never stop until you see the end of it. take a step one day at a time and forgive yourself when you fail. in fact, take as much failure as you can get and turn them into lessons. you’ve never learned when you have not failed.

you’re someone worth loving. someone worth prioritizing. someone worth choosing. you don’t deserve to live a life wondering whether you’re enough... because you are. 

you are enough.

... and you are not her.

her with a cheeky smile and a seemingly perfect life. her whose charms caught the eyes that wouldn’t look at you. 

you are not her.

you are you. although it’s cheesy to say, i’m going to repeat it until you realize that it is not a bad thing to be yourself.

walk away. stop looking at their photos. stop looking up their names. stop changing your mind the moment his name pops up on your phone.

walk away knowing you’ve done your part. you were clear and his ambiguity was his answer. free yourself from people who confuse you and who would not recognize your value.

do not let yourself be someone’s second choice. be your own first choice. remind yourself everyday that you belong to yourself. do not live your life seeking for anyone’s approval.

work on you. travel when this shitty pandemic ends. earn those bucks. chase those dreams. be obsessed with learning, having fun, and taking care of your people.

you’ll meet someone someday who have gone through the same. you’ll meet someone whose thoughts will be an extension to yours. you will not complete each other. you will complement each other. 

but you will not recognize him until you learn how to choose yourself first. you will not see him until you widen your perspective first.

now that you know this. stop waiting for him either. the more you look for him, the more you’ll revert back to your old people pleasing ways. again, stop living for another person.

shower thoughts

My life is a series filled with unfinished stories. Think of a book containing unrelated chapters each ending with a cliffhanger.

I know. Blood-boiling. Frustrating.

I start. I always do. But I don’t complete them. I put everything off for later for dumb reasons. I plan. I schedule. I make to-do lists only to see them unchecked. 

Did I just make those to prove my incapability? (Because they work.)

I’m writing this to create a false sense of productivity. That I’ve created something for the day (It’s midnight though. Technically, it’s the next day.) 

Tomorrow (later), I’ll wake up. And, as usual, I’d start the day with a brand new hope and a set of stubborn bad habits. They say the real reason people procrastinate is fear. Fear of failing. Fear of not living up to your own expectations. Fear of being vulnerable.

I go on and off. Some days, I feel alright. Some days, I feel worse. 

I continue... for the “alright” days. I think that’s what we all do, but wouldn’t admit. We’re all figuring out life. We’re all caught up inside our heads. But what matters is that no matter how many times we are set back, we do not quit.