and no one.
Nothing lasts, no one stays. Friends and ends. I’m not good at this friends thing, but I wish I had a friend who needed me as much as I need him or her.
Always here, everything else changes, but I can’t.
No worries. Time. It’s just that fleeting.
to write more.
science majors………. you know what i mean!
but seriously, WHAT HAPPENED? i’m stuttering in speech and in writing. oh noes.
i must read more as well.
recommend any books, my friends?
i hate that feeling. somewhere between guilt and .. well, I won’t say.
my mom has done so much for us, sacrificed all deserved luxuries to give me everything I want,
when and if I’m rich, or even if I’m not, I’ll do my best to make it all worth her while and finally treat her the way she should be treated, give her the things she’s always wanted. Saving and saving to make my life easier,
material things may just be material things,
but she deserves the best!
If I had the money, the bare minimum,
I’d wear the same outfit everyday, whatever,
eat ramen everyday and skimp on lifestyle necessities,
if that meant I could live away from him, and never see him until he’s normal. Off his stupid ass medicine with his brain in tact like a sane human.
His unhappiness rubs off on every person in this family.
I’d live away and work. I’d probably work harder than I would now. But then practicality hits.
Or maybe,
screw practicality. I don’t know. Endure it a little longer. Wait out the storm..
If my dad disappeared, if he lost his voice, if he left for China,
the “Dad” part of my life would be sad,
but the rest of it would be so much better.
Every time I am around him, he tells me how he sees me as this disgusting, retarded, ignorant and spoiled girl. And I am suddenly the only 19-year-old who doesn’t have her life planned out on a word document, who doesn’t have enough money in her savings account to be entirely independent. Because to him, I won’t grow up. I’m nothing and I’ll get no where and he feels the need to tell me everyday how much he hates the kind of person I am. That I am so selfish for never thinking of what I can do for the family and how I am so dependent for food, shelter, support. How when I’ve graduated college, he will no longer be willing to provide me with anything. He hates the idea of paying for tuition, and housing, and food, and he expresses that every opportunity that comes around. As always, the only thing he has taught me, after all this time, is that to my own father, I am a worthless parasite.
Someone who takes more than gives back.
Nothing is ever good enough. I hate how I always seem to blame my dad for everything that goes wrong with me, but I’m already an unstable person. Someone who is rarely happy. And then to have this talk almost every day during the hour ride home about how I am a failure, how he just doesn’t know what goes on in my head, how I am the least accomplished person ever, has started effecting me more than anyone knows. I wish I could just be happy. If I were happy, I’d have more energy, more passion, more confidence. Or maybe it’s the other way around, but with his constant deprecation, I’m never allowed a chance to breathe.
I feel like ever since I’ve been able to walk, he’s been telling me I’m losing the race, he’s been pushing me down, thinking that it’ll teach me to be stronger. Instead, I’m tired of picking myself up. Bruises on top of bruises, body weak without time to heal, I’m going to crack and break down if he continues.
I’m not a suicidal person. Life is life. I’d be nothing without it. And I’m not willing to let that happen, to miss this chance. Maybe I’ve had it too good. I don’t understand real pain or loss, guilt or any form of suffering. All I know is that from this standpoint, from where I am right now, I could be better, this could be better,
if someone weren’t poisoning the air I breathe, darkening the world around me until I’m almost blind from the beauty I should be seeing, and dirtying this person writing all of this who just wants to grow and learn to be happy, to dream without being woken.
I don’t know if I am chronically ill for being so damn unhappy all the time. Bothered stressed and worried.
Or if it’s just right now and my PMS.
Fuck it. Bad day. Bad week. Give me some hope please. And no more drowning me in the car ride home. Please. Or else I’ll really end up the failure you foresee me being.
Fuck that. I’m so fucking pissed.
haters gonna hate!
And when I’m feeling especially hateresque, I’m no exception. Far from it. No lie.
I’d like very much to change that aspect of me. I am quick to judge, quick to dismiss, quick to idealize. I am one of assumptions, many of which have pieced together creating this truly despicable side that I show much too often.
Anyways, that’s no new news. It’s olds. But alas, I am not so creative to come up with anything interesting or novel to say. I feel like I’ve poured a good portion of who I am on this site, into this trashcan. Dig through it and you’ll really know who I am..part of the time. I’m good at recycling though. Perhaps I should rename this as recycling bin.
Blah blah. Internship. 7:30 AM. Depressing tinted windows. Lecture left and right, up, down, in, out, face, ear, pencil, blue. Streaming movies. Brother. Mother. Tiger. Polar bear. Friends. Car. Not mine. I like him. Sike. Hamburgers. Brownies a la mode. I am not your regular customer. I lied. Pho. Friends here. Oh yeah, we’re friends. Forgot about you. You don’t remember me? Gone. There. Traffic. Carpool. Hobos. Cigarettes smell bad. XS? Say what? Size 8? BULLSHIT. Warm BART seats. 10,000 hours. Oakland. Black people. Jiggle. Blankets and pillows. Sleep. Oh, hey! Yeah let’s hang. When? Tomorrow? That was last week. Lag. So fast. Time. Time. Time.
Just like that. And four weeks have passed. A month has gone. What happened?
As usual, I’ve forgotten already. By the time I remember, I’ll forget why I wanted to know. Do I want to know? No time.
Direction or no direction, moving forward, like it or not. Days feel slow, but life feels fast.
I like how you’re speeding next to me though. :] Let’s keep it that way, my friends.
a couple things are different… but at least everything’s here!
the above picture changed though.. hmm.
My ridiculously overwhelming need for self-redemption
is merely a reflection of my insecurities.
That is no good. Why can’t I take criticism? Why can’t I take rejection?
How embarrassing. Escape through
work.
And put aside all emotion, all humanly necessities.
Turn it off, block it out,
because all I need to be
is simple.
All I need to have
is a direction.
What is the point of looking for anything else more? I am looking for trouble, for rejection,
if I seek something with only 5% chance of retention.
No.
That’s it.
Obviously,
apparently,
evidently,
I have a very limited amount of self-esteem to waste like that, of confidence to squander.
I think playing this game is fun,
but maybe it’s because I’m too naive to see how dangerous it is.
Oh shoot. How can I change him?
