Pride and Cowardice

"When you're young, everything feels like the end of the world."

The societal standard wouldn't normally consider me young. I am, after all, twenty-two. I've already lived the life that sixteen-year-olds live. I should be a different person now with a job stressing me out and money to cash out from my bank account. But I don't.

Sometimes, I spend a whole day without checking my Facebook account to see whether some person I used to know or people I consider friends left a message asking if I was still alive. Maybe it's easier that way - not knowing whether people still cared and not caring at all about anything. When you give even a little bit of attention or affection for that matter, there's always an insanely high risk of getting hurt. And the bad news is we're humans. Even if we are biologically programmed to fight off or avoid anything potentially harmful, we would always find a way to relate because that's just how we are. We are relational beings. Sometimes, I wonder if God put me in the correct species of living things.

I spent the last five days of my life listening to my mom whine about how our life sucks right now. I tried to plug my ears with something that plays heavy metal music so I could just shut the world out but it's just ridiculously amazing how mere words can cut through all the stuff designed to make the human psyche temporarily disabled. I was hurt but I was too proud a bitch to even admit that to myself. I wanted to tell my mom that her words hurt me but as the understanding eldest daughter, I made it look like I'm the villain and she's the superhero who's going to save the fucked up day. During the last five days, my best buddies were Reeshia (my laptop), my little old binder I forcedly (but in kind of a nice way) took from a friend in high school where I write my stories and Lilo (my five-year-old iPod). I was alone but surprisingly, I was fine. As Meg said in the movie Hercules, "Sometimes, it's better to be alone. Nobody can hurt you."

I was gradually getting used to the bum squad routine. Everyday I'd wake up, take a shower, eat last night's leftovers and sit in front of my computer all day to force my brain to produce something worth reading. My family isn't really into it. They haven't actually said to my face that what I do sucks but it's actually perceptible. Maybe it's because what I do is just to entertain people with the stories that write themselves down in my head and not get anything in return. It's not actually a job but a hobby. And I just realized - if you don't have leverage in this world, you're at the bottom of the food pyramid. Something destined to be a meal for everything and everyone. If I lived in my own world, people would consider me a god. Someone who creates something out of nothing. And I just had to stop and take a look at the world I'm in one more time. Yeah. I'm not in my own world. So I just have to stick my ass somewhere, be another person's doormat and make mediocre dough out of it.

Still, I can't help feeling bad about not being part of the world when somewhere deep inside, I hated it. I want to be with people, hang out, tell stories, get drunk and wake up the next day without a single idea of what happened and still feel happy. I guess not everyone is destined to be a part of the party or maybe I'm just too stubborn sometimes to even try to get myself hurt just because I want to be in crazily happy pictures I'd see later in my Facebook news feed.

I'm a fucking coward. That's why I always imprison myself behind the bars of my imagination, a place where I can be whoever I wanted to be and nobody can say shit about it. Someplace I can get hurt and nobody will laugh at me. Somewhere I can make things up and pretend they're real so I don't have to feel lonely again. A world where I can be me and everyone is happy with it.

I'm not suicidal or anything.

This is just a blog written by a girl who endured a week of telling off.

And she just can't believe she could be this honest to herself.