Okay, I don't blog anymore cause 1) I'm a lazy ass 2) I can't be bothered to blog cause I'm a lazy ass. But auuugghhh, I can't stand this anymore.
I've been feeling really lost, frustrated and so, so dumb. I really should be rather proud of myself. (HOHOHO.) I mean I made it university and I'm FINALLY pursuing something that I love so goddamn much. But (I have no idea why really) I keep second-guessing myself over and over and over again and I'm getting so damn tired of everything and anything.
It's like there's this unknown force which keeps pulling and pulling and pulling and it's stretching me so thin that any moment now, I'd just lose it and break. Initially, I just assumed that it's just another EMO.OHWOEISME phase, you know. That I'd get over it really soon. But auugghh, if this goes on any longer...AUGH.
I'm really angry too. Not the kind of anger that's LOUD and FURIOUS and THUNDEROUS. The kind that makes you go RED and BLIND with boiling FURY thrumming through your blood and all. (Sheesh, anyone experiencing that kind of fury should probably be locked up, btw. Like srsly. Stay away from me please.)
So, yeah, nope. Not that kind of anger at all. It's more like this silent, pent-up FRUSTRATION. The kind that makes your eyes prickle with tears--but not enough to make you sob and bawl and just cry your eyes out. The kind that sends these annoyingly painful stabs of heartache to your heart. The kind that makes you want to wring your hands and curl up in a corner and scream yourself hoarse until your throat is parched and dry and sore -- but you don't of course, since it's the quiet, silent kind of anger.
So, you bite down hard on your lower lip and wait and wait and wait until the anger slowly ebbs and fades away. Then, you'd feel tired and lost and hopeless and hapless and the cycle starts again. And you're tired (so, so, so tired) of this, so you just push it away in the dark corners in your mind (like you always do), until someone brings it up and out again.
But till then, you're safe and you're not living (no, not really) but you'll live. And that's okay. You're content. You never had much ambition anyway. So, it's okay. It's okay.
Nowadays though, everyone keeps bringing it up and out and maybe that's why you're feeling so, so tired these days. Maybe that's why your heart's so heavy. You're not sure, but maybe that's why. Maybe. People--your family-- keeps asking you, "English Literature? Really? So what are you going to be?" The questions keep coming and coming and you just smile and laugh and brush it off when you really want to cry and scream, "I don't know, okay! I don't know." And really, you don't know. You really don't know. You were never bothered by it before though. Because surely, your love and passion would cloud their ignorant views.
Surely, it will.
But now, you're not so sure. Your heart's still heavy and it's getting heavier and heavier and oh god, you're scared shitless. If it gets any heavier, you don't think you can keep up with this smile and laugh and carefree facade. You just can't because it's stretching thin and really, you're just so tired. You're second-guessing yourself. And for the first time in your life, you wish you didn't have this supposed flair for writing or drawing. It's rather useless, isn't it?
And you want to bawl at the unfairness of it all. You're really rather good and writing and drawing but hey, guess what? Tough luck. It's a pretty useless set of talent to have these days. You're pursing your lips now, seething with silent anger and frustration and there's the familiar sheen of tears behind your eyes and you want to throw your arms up in the air and scream.
You feel cheated and hurt, but you don't scream. You don't cry. You smile and take it in your stride and your parents pipe up and say, "We told you so, didn't we? Maths is extremely important." You wonder what has that got to do with anything anyway and you shrug it off, smiling. They shake their head in disdain and you wonder in a distant and detached manner if they're disappointed in you. They probably are disappointed, you think idly. Just a little bit if not a lot, perhaps. Then again, they haven't offered you a proper congratulations or shown any signs of outward pride in you in nearly a decade. It's okay. You don't really mind. Though you do wish that you could make them proud. Just a tad bit.
Now, you chuckle softly and shake your head. Not possible. You're not a lawyer or doctor or engineer. You're just an undergraduate majoring in English Literature. You've seen their looks of incredulity. The stern, unimpressed purse of the lips. The way they brush off questions about the course you're taking in university with a simple, nonchalant, "I don't know what she wants to be","She was in the Arts stream. Her choices were limited to begin with.","Oh. She's taking English." You wondered if your sister received the same treatment. You wonder if you're being ridiculously sensitive. You're not sure. So you shrug, put on a bright, bright smile and nod and gush enthusiastically that 'Yes! I'm taking English Literature!' to make up for the lack of enthusiasm on your parent's part.
Enthusiasm is rather contagious, right? So, maybe, just maybe, if you smile wide enough and gush loud enough, your parents would get it too. And maybe, just maybe, the'd feel proud. Of you. You-- the silly girl with her head in the clouds.
You.
But you've been doing it for a while now. And you don't think it's working very well. The only response you get is the same question that you're sick and tired of. So, have you decided what you are going to be in the future? This time, you're too tired to smile though, so you laughed instead.
It sounded so bitter.
Your facade cracks a bit. You were rambling on how you were sick and tired of the people asking and asking and asking the same question. Your dad blinks, bemused and laughs humorlessly and tells you that they're being pragmatic. Your sister gives you a bewildered look. You (--are tired, tired, tired, but you--) smile now. You shrug and laugh and facade settles back in place. You're rather embarrassed by your rambling so-- No more cracks, you think. No more.
So once again, you're not living but you'll live. Your heart's still heavy and you need to ease it somehow. And you're feeling so empty and lifeless and you need something to make you feel alive again. So, you draw. You can feel it, thrumming in your bones and your pen slides across the tablet and slowly, the blank canvas comes alive. You're happy and satisfied and content. Just look at how much you've improved. You're stroking your ego a bit too much but hey, you've been feeling so down lately that you let this slide. (Oh, who are you kidding. You always stroke your ego anyway. So, this is nothing new really. Hohoho.)
Then, your dad disrupts the peace. He scoffs. It's a waste of time. He doesn't understand why you keep drawing. Can't you find something better to do? It's just a waste of time. It's useless.
You're angry.
Your breath hitches at your throat. Your eyes are prickling and you grit your teeth and plug your ears to drown out the painful clenching of your heart.
You're hurt.
But as always, you're too proud to show it. You're also quietly surprised at how much the comments stings. But it doesn't sting that bad. So, it's okay. You've walled up your heart pretty well over the years. You remember nonchalantly how you cried yourself to sleep when your mother once called you 'the spawn of a devil'. You remember how at the age of ten you vow not to let your heart bleed over silly comments like that.
Your mum, in one of her fits of rage, commented on how you're like a piece of stone. She says that you're emotionless and cold, even when she hits and hits and hits you. Now, that you think about it, your mum is pretty insightful. You wonder if she remembers any of this. Probably not. So now, you changed your tactics slightly. Now, you smile and smile and cry when you're supposed to. You feel a tad bit empty but it's okay. Your heart barely bleeds anymore. So, it's okay. It's okay.
Current Mood: Sick! (down with a flu)
Listening to: Motherland by Crystal Kay
Playing:
The Misadventures of Tron Bonne - PS1 and Puzzle Quest - PSP
Reading: Special A by Maki Minami
First off- OMG I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT MY PRIVATE BLOG!
Haha xD Like seriously.
And I remembered it in the most bimbotic half-assed way D':
I was like, "Hmm, let's go to my blog" (the public one)
and i typed in "lollie..."
and lolliefruity.blogspot.com popped out in the search engine history thingy!
I snickered since i thought my lil sis was trying to get into my current blog
I went like, "Like i would actually call name my blog after my YouTube account ! D;"
Bah. I clicked on it anyway-
It loaded and...
O: ... was all i could say
Oh well. At least NOW I know that I have one :-D
ANYWAY! TO MORE IMPORTANT MATTERS!!
(which will be posted in the next post coz im awesome-r than yous. o:)
