Anxiety, not Insanity

It’s reading and rereading the last message we sent you when we don’t get a reply because “Ummmm…was is something I said?” “Did I offend you in any way?” “I should probably apologize for wasting their time because they’re too busy, and I’m not.” Yes, it’s over thinking.

It’s a lot of uncontrollable over thinking. It sounds like paranoia. Somehow our minds could create the most bizarre connections between things. It’s like forming a conspiracy theory about things that could or could not be. As crazy as it sounds, sometimes our theories turn out to be true.

It’s feeling guilty even though you didn’t do anything wrong.

Anxiety. It’s not being able to eat despite feeling hungry. It’s the collywobbles, but even you don’t know why they’re there. It’s telling people that you have gastritis when you really don’t. Do you really want to explain your mental illness to your friends who are enjoying their meal?

It’s feeling disturbed when things aren’t in order because you have OCD tendencies, too. I mean what if something goes wrong because it wasn’t at the right position in the first place?

It’s caring too much, then pretending not to care that much because some people don’t like the clingy you.

It’s “overreacting” because you’re scared.

It’s an illness that people mistake for insanity, when it really isn’t. It’s an illness that makes you feel like you’re having a heart attack whenever it strikes.

It’s painful. Heck, it’s pain itself. It makes your chest burst when it peaks. It makes you beg for it to stop…to just stop. It makes you cry, it makes you horrible…and it drags on for days.

Sometimes it paralyzes you, and you stay in bed not wanting to get up. Sometimes you have to get up, and you put on a pseudo default happy face so you don’t have to explain to anyone how conflicted you’re really feeling inside. Sometimes it’s insomnia because your thoughts won’t let you sleep, and you end up popping a sleeping pill you’ve been hiding under your pillow.

No, we can’t turn it off and be “normal” like you when your patience has ran out. Believe me, even we are trying to be patient with ourselves. We only ask you to understand us. We’re sick, but we don’t use our sickness as an excuse.

It’s not just wanting a hug, it’s needing a hug because damn, you’ve never felt so safe and comfortable in your life. It’s needing a hug because after all the chaos happening in your head, that’s the only thing that makes sense right now.

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Wishes are for Little Girls

I’ve given up wishing for you
I’m going to stop searching for dandelions to blow
Stop staying up late waiting for the clock to hit 11:11
Stop looking up at the sky at night to see the first star to appear,
Or wait for a shooting star to whiz across
Stop wasting my coins on wishing wells
Stop blowing fallen eyelashes from the tip of my finger
Stop wishing for you when I blow out the candles on my next birthday cake
I’m done with all that because another girl did the same thing,
She got her wish – you.

-Poem originally written on November 30, 2015 in a notebook labeled Compositions for the Imaginative Minds.

Eyes

I stare at them, not in a creepy disturbing way

I stare at them observantly

I study them, absorb every detail, take mental notes

I was curious, and this was an opportunity

to look at them without getting caught

Bothered by the question whether they were black or brown

It was a mystery that I was so eager to solve

It was a puzzle that I just had to piece together

After all this time, this was a chance to finally find out

My method was on-point, direct

I start at the corner of his eyes

The part where he won’t catch me staring

From that angle, the outline is midnight black

I begin to make conclusions – they are black

I talk to him, he faces me

The afternoon sun casts its rays

The light indirectly flood his face

His eyes illuminate revealing its true color

No, I think to myself

They’re brown

And it’s not just any kind of brown

It’s definitely not the dull type of brown

It’s the shade of brown that makes you stare in awe

It’s the tint that makes me forget that my favorite color is green

His eyes are my new favorite color,

And they’re the fondest things I see

I sit beside you, half listening to your words

I sit beside you, gawking in wonderment

Astonished by the galaxies in your eyes that are windows to the universe that is your very soul.

Boy Meets Girl

Boy meets girl
They become close friends
They hang out a lot
They share secrets

Boy meets girl
People start teasing them
People think they’re a couple
People become inquisitive

Boy meets girl
Girl doesn’t mind
Girl evaluates friendship level
Girl starts having indescribable feelings for boy

Boy meets girl
Boy has no intentions of dating girl
Boy places girl in the friendzone
Boy develops awkward relationship with girl

Boy ends peer assumptions
Boy eyes another girl
Boy approaches this girl
Boy tries to make his move

Girl is hurt
Girl feels sorry for herself
Girl misses her boy best friend
Girl is all alone

Boy meets girl
They were only meant to meet

Give Me a Topic

It’s that moment where you want to write about something but you can’t even think about a topic. You stare at that white screen with a blinking line, and in the end you close the program. Or you stare at that  clean sheet in front of you with a modern quill in your hand but not a single subject comes to mind. I wrote this post just to fill up the blog gap.

Telephone Scam

Our telephone rang so I picked the receiver up. Nobody answered at the other end. I placed the receiver back down and continued to watch the Azkals’ game against Laos. A moment later, the phone rang again. The call was from an agent of a so-called ‘Utama Electronic Company‘. I have never heard of this company so the word SCAM automatically entered my mind. Knowing that only our telephone company would have access to our telephone number and information, I decided to “play-along” to know what she’s got to offer. She asked me when we got our phone, I told he that we got it this May. So she said that they were giving out rewards for twenty phones that were connected this year. She said that I needed to present two valid IDs at the designated claiming center at the second floor of a building in this city where I live in. I had to look for “Green Top” and an agent was going to give me my reward item. Ughhh, that’s the building where there are a lot of ‘agents’ standing outside, telling passers-by that they have a gift certificate/reward that they can claim for free AT THE SECOND FLOOR OF THAT BUILDING. They gave me this “special code” to use when I claim the item. They asked me where I live and what my name is so that they could record it. I gave fake details, of course. When the call ended, I knew that I had to verify the company’s name and details. I surfed the internet. Articles about the company and the company’s call being a scam appeared.

I knew it! The next time you receive a suspicious phone call, listen to your gut and put the receiver down. Our telephone comes with a ‘Caller ID’ feature. If the same number pops up when they call, don’t pick up.

Ah, Are You Digging On My Grave?

by Thomas Hardy

“Ah, are you digging on my grave,
My loved one? — planting rue?”
— “No: yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
‘It cannot hurt her now,’ he said,
‘That I should not be true.'”

“Then who is digging on my grave,
My nearest dearest kin?”
— “Ah, no: they sit and think, ‘What use!
What good will planting flowers produce?
No tendance of her mound can loose
Her spirit from Death’s gin.'”

“But someone digs upon my grave?
My enemy? — prodding sly?”
— “Nay: when she heard you had passed the Gate
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
She thought you no more worth her hate,
And cares not where you lie.

“Then, who is digging on my grave?
Say — since I have not guessed!”
— “O it is I, my mistress dear,
Your little dog , who still lives near,
And much I hope my movements here
Have not disturbed your rest?”

“Ah yes! You dig upon my grave…
Why flashed it not to me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among human kind
A dog’s fidelity!”

“Mistress, I dug upon your grave
To bury a bone, in case
I should be hungry near this spot
When passing on my daily trot.
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
It was your resting place.”

The Indispensable Man

(by Saxon White Kessinger)

Some time when you’re feeling important;

Some time when your ego’s in bloom;

Some time when you take it for granted,

You’re the best qualified in the room;

Some time when you think that your going,

would leave an unfillable hole;

Just follow this simple instruction

And see how it humbles your soul.

Take a bucket and fill it with water;

Put your hands in it up to your wrists;

Pull them out – and the hole that remains;

Is the measure of how much you’ll be missed.

You may splash as you please when you enter;

You may stir up the water galore;

But stop – and you’ll find in a second ,

That it looks just the same as before.

The moral of this is quite simple;

Do just the best that you can,

and be proud of yourself – but remember;

There is no indispensable man

I heard this poem being read to me last Sunday. The topic was about humility.

The Existence of “Forever”

When I say that forever doesn’t exist doesn’t necessarily mean that it has anything to do with love or bitterness. I am actually saying that everything in this world is temporary. Wait for kingdom come, that’s when forever begins and exists.