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 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.