alter ego

Maybe I should find myself new friends.
But I barely get interested in other people.
And it’s not that I’m arrogant or I think I’m better than everyone else but I just can’t.
Involvement is a messy thing that will lead to vulnerability and fuzzy feelings and intimacy and expectations and disappointments and depression and suicidal thoughts and so on and so forth.

I don’t know.

I’m taking a break away from people.

I’m taking a break from my friend who, every time gets a new lover, makes his life revolve around that person. But when he gets his heart broken, calls me.

I don’t know. Maybe I feel like I am being taken for granted. That I am only relevant and only existent when everyone else is unavailable. That I am the last option. That I am his fall back for his every break up and heart break. I’ll take a break from him for a year. Maybe I’ll forget and then I’ll see what happens.

I’m taking a break from my “occasional” friend, who just reaches out to me when he needs something or when all of the friends he prefers to be with are not available and he needs to get out or go somewhere or do something or whatever.

Again, this makes me feel irrelevant. A last resort. A last option. Worse, he’s one (if not the only one) of those people who gets me (I think) and whom I get. And when he asks me for anything, I simply can’t say no because I know it will be a sure high. It sucks. It sucks. But anyway, I’ll take a break from him too. As long as he does not talk to me or whatever, all is good. All is good.

I’m taking a break from my med school friend (as if I haven’t had enough “away time” from her) because whenever we meet, all she talks about is herself and herself and herself. I’m used to her being like this. Or more accurately, I’m used to being used to her like this. But right now, I just don’t know. And I don’t know what happened.

Maybe I just can’t bear to talk to her anymore because all she’ll ever do is regale me with her med school stories and I get a little envious and irritated and jealous and I’ll start to think along these lines - “All things considered I’m still better than you, IQ and intellectual capacity-wise. And if only I were in med school as well, you’ll see how I’ll shine and kick ass but I’m not and you are and I guess I’m really bad at making decisions but I have to keep this feelings all to myself”; and then I’ll plunge into self-loathing and self-pity and depression and I’ll be more lonely.

I’ll come around. We’ll come around. But I need to take a break for now.

Seriously, I should stop writing this. The point is, if I am irrelevant in their lives, why should they be relevant in mine?

This is what happens when you care too much.
And this is why I don’t want to be involved.

BUT I AM LONELY.
AND THE PEOPLE WHO I USED TO BE WITH ARE NOT AROUND ANYMORE.
I KNOW WE’VE GROWN AND GROWN UP LIKE WE WERE SUPPOSED TO AND THAT WE HAVE OUR OWN BUSINESSES TO HANDLE BUT IS THIS WHAT BEING AN ADULT IS LIKE?
I CAN BE ALONE. IN FACT I AM USED TO BEING ALONE.
I CAN BECAUSE I TAKE COMFORT IN THE FACT THAT I STILL HAVE “MY PEOPLE”.
BUT NOW, I DON’T.
AND I CAN’T FIND AND MAKE NEW OR ADDITIONAL “MY PEOPLE” BECAUSE I AM A BIG FAT COWARD WHO DOES NOT WANT TO GET INVOLVED BECAUSE I CAN’T DEAL WITH EMOTIONS AND WHAT-NOTS.

AND SO, I’M LONELY BECAUSE I’M ALONE BUT INSTEAD OF BEING WITH PEOPLE, THE MORE THAT I WITHDRAW AWAY FROM THEM.

I AM SO SOCIALLY AND EMOTIONALLY INCAPACITATED.
HELP.

I thought I could subsist on books, movies, music, series and the internet.
But still, nothing can replace people.

Aaaargh, I just want to be relevant to someone’s life, that is all.
But I don’t want to get involved.

THE IRONY THAT IS ME.

O SIGURO KELANGAN KO NA TALAGANG BUMILI NG CELLPHONE, ANO?

I am bothered by my incapacity to find anyone interesting. It’s been so long (that I can’t even remember) since someone - and by this, I mean a person whom I know in real life - has sparked my interest or tickled my weird-bordering-on-the-perverted imagination or ignited a mote of my lust and desire. The funny thing is it seems that there are quite a handful of people who are really interested in me and are keen on getting to know me better. I give myself the excuse that the problem lies with the people I mingle with, but later on, when I look out the window of the vehicle I’m in on my way home, I know that the problem lies within me. I’m not sure but maybe I’m again in this phase of my life when I feel that interactions with humans are trite and any concern that is not mine is not worthy of investing my thoughts and time in. Or maybe, this is really just me- the person who painstakingly maintains a 2 meter radius from anyone, the person whose earphones are always on because she does not want her air space to be invaded and the person who cringes away from potential lasting human interactions.

And I am bothered. Disturbed. And maybe, even concerned.

And now, something else bothers me more - I am all of these.

here is myself taking a photo of me and our Christmas tree’s reflection in the mirror.

here is a crappy webcam photo of me and our christmas tree.

I have a big crush on a girl here in Tumblr. She’s really nice and she replies to my messages all the time. And she’s cute. And I am so tacky. And awkward. But she’s so cute. The end.

I have never considered myself as a scarred or broken person. I sure do get my heart broken from time to time, I have felt a lot of shit in the past but then I bounce back. I sulk and the write down feelings and mull over things and eventually get over things. Way back, I consider my capacity to feel for others and at the same time use my  logic a gift. I think it’s one of the reasons why people confide in me. A lot of people I met has a group of friends whom they consider friends in pleasure, but they always brand me as the open who they can talk to anytime about whatever. Back then, I did not know if I should take that as a compliment or if I should feel bad because people only talk to me and need me if they haven’t got anyone else to talk about their problems and issues to.

But I guess as the years wore on, and after a major heartbreak (and gosh the the word heartbreak sucks bit there is no word ore accurate) it seems like I have lost the capacity to feel. I mean, for some people, feeling comes naturally, like you see something and you feel something. I, I see something and then blank. Just blank. I only think. I guess that heartbreak really got me bad. No, it got me bad. It shattered me. It was very painful i could not even write about it. I ignored it because I thought it was stupid. I ignored it because it thought it was my fault. I ignored it because I knew that entertaining it would only do me bad. I ignored it because I thought it was the only way through it. I had to ignore the emotion, the thoughts. I suppressed any tear (but then I was never good at crying anyways). I just ignored it, suppressed it. I did not know that it started to eat me up from the inside. I looked the strong and cool and the happy go lucky person that I always have been, but little did I know that those times when I go out to go to school but instead ending up standing rooted to one spot thinking where i should go and what to do but considering those instances as nothing but the frailty of my mind is the heartbreak gnawing and consuming me from the inside. I tried to move on, go through my normal life, but I just can’t. I had to stop. I stopped. I was looking for the reason on why I needed to stop but I could not grasp it. I know it is there, there is something but I can’t quite put my finger at it and it was because it is eating me from the inside. I stopped, I withdrew from people, I never dared contact anyone; it came the time when I had to return and I returned but still I did not know the reason on why I had to stop.

So i went on but then I never let anyone close again. I keep to myself. I cringe away from people. No, I run away from people. I disappear. But still i went on. I measure up people and things based on their logic and rationality because those are the only things I am capable of entertaining. Logic overrides everything. EVERYTHING. But still there are times when I get that feeling of standing rooted at a spot, deciding where to go and not knowing what to do WITHOUT REASON. The irony of it. But I had to go on, so I did, like a robot; someone always thinking but never feeling. But someone came along (and this is a different story down the road, the story I always loved to write about).

So here I am now. Until now I don’t consider myself a scarred person. But then maybe I am. I am scarred. No one comes out of this life unscarred anyway. I am scarred. Perhaps, up until now, I am still wounded. But then I know I got so good at suppressing everything I can just ignore almost everything. But there are times, in the deep of the night when it gets so cold when the scars hurt and some wounds even break open and it throbs. It throbs. it hurts. And so I cry. I cry tears that were long overdue. And there’s so much relief in that. So much relief. I slump down the surface and cry and later get up and get on again. But it’s better than feeling nothing at all. A thousand times better. I don’t know what will happen to those wounds, if they will ever completely heal. Well, I believe they will. They will.
As for now, I have to contend with the fact that I have a lot of nights coming, cold nights when my scars will start to throb and burst open and I just have to endure them.

Today is spirit day.

It just bothers me that somehow, it is being sensationalized which results to its meaning and significance getting lost on us.

For me, it’s standing up for what I believe in; which is that people should not be bullied and discriminated against because of their identity. Perhaps, it may even be a call of uprising to eradicate hate and ignorance and promote not just equality but as well as knowledge, education and free thinking (of course, it’s not as easy as it sounds); because hate crimes, like my dear friend has pointed out to me, is not the only issue. Looking deeper, this is also an issue of dogmas, social conditioning and morality. This is an issue of The constructs and ideals that has been so deeply ingrained in the society that makes people incapable of thinking outside the boundaries of these ideas; and when people think like this, the act of accepting someone who is “different” or someone who is of “the minority” becomes improbable and instead turns into something that may outwardly appear as banal as bullying but has repercussions as serious as suicide.

PS. Tumblr is purple. EPIC.

-Neurotikka 10/20/2010

So a friend is planning a surprise birthday party for our birthday-friend (I shall refer to him as “birthday-friend” from this point forward to avoid confusion). My reaction was one of hardcore surprise and disbelief. I don’t know, Maybe I’m rude and mean and skeptic but my thoughts were “Why do you want to do this? He’s not even a good friend to you! What makes him so special? NOTHING!”.

Well, the two of them were really tight way back in HS. And then, I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know. I mean, he did bad things to her. I just don’t know.

Birthday-friend is still my friend, obviously. We also got along really well in HS. During those ancient times, I was one of the people he used to confide in, if not the only one. And then came college and… aargh. I don’t want to go down this lane. Let’s just say that there was a falling out and things went really bad (on my part at least) and then BAM! Here we are now. We talk occasionally, we see each other occasionally, I crash on his house occasionally, nothing more. We talk about serious stuff like marriage, gender, hate etc and that’s all. I don’t know. I used to really value him and what we had. I mean, we used to talk a lot. Not just talk talk but discuss and converse like the intelligent and sensible people that we are. We used to never ran out of things to talk about. We exchanged opinions, mull over ideals, laugh at each other’s stories and we never said sorry for ourselves. Gosh, I used to fancy him. Like fancy, fancy, Hard-core, deep-rooted fancy. But then after the falling out, I just couldn’t think or feel for him the way I did before, even just as friends. For me, he’s just someone who is there occasionally, someone who bugs me if he’s got no one else to bug, someone who is temporary, non-durable; someone’s whose bound to disappear anytime without word or notice. He’s like a billow of smoke - something I see, something that is there, but I have really no way of holding or grasping and will disperse and disappear anytime soon. I sure appreciate our intellectual and political conversations but that’s all there is to us. We connect on an intellectual level but our heartstrings (WTF?!) are flimsy. I feel like he’s someone I could not trust, someone I could not invest my friendship and emotions on. And it’s awful.

Bottom line, I agreed to what my friend was planning; not for birthday-friend’s happiness but for her. She’s nice and sweet and maybe she still holds birthday-friend close to her heart, so I’ll indulge her. I know this will make her happy, therefore it’s good.

Speaking of friends, I should make up with my best friend soon. Meaning now.

-Neurotikka 10/18/2010

Neurotichronicles is where I post (or more accurately, reblog) things that amuse me. I barely have original posts in that blog. I just reckoned that it is high time I create something where I can post what I write (though I used to write somewhere else but the aura of that blog has gone bleak and I rarely open it now *insert sad and disappointed-with-self feelings here*), post my own pictures to feed my conceit *insert maniacal laughter here*, post quotations from the books I have read, and blah blah blah. I just want someplace where I can post anything to my heart’s content (and malice).

I doubt if anyone can find this. But if YOU have and YOU do not like what YOU see, YOU are very much free to get the fuck out of my lawn.

-Neurotikka 10/18/2010