Lost Connection

It’s funny how much hurt one can put you under without specifically doing anything to you. We’ve discussed that I’m super emotional, and that I feel things too strongly, but this isn’t about me. This is about how silence, or even unoffending words, can hurt more than the loudest, meanest thing you could ever say.

Why do I say this? Because as it happens, sometimes people stop talking to me. After we’ve had a fight, or after we’ve come to a disagreement. It’s fine if a few hours later we start talking again, but if you don’t? The first thing that comes to mind is that you’re mad at me, and when someone is mad at me, I have to resolve it.

I can’t have people mad at me because I’m a people pleaser, and I want everyone to like me. So what do I do? I talk. I initiate a conversation, trying to smooth things over. I apologize, but I also ask for one in return. And I always, always, always mention that I say things that I don’t mean when I’m angry. I mean, we all do, right? When we’re angry, we say hurtful things. Especially if you know the person, and you know exactly how to hit under the belt. And for those things, I apologize one more time. And I wait for a reply.

No reply? Big problem. I sometimes start talking more. I get frantic. I get crazy. I become obsessive compulsive me. And now the thought in my head is that I must’ve hurt them more than I had thought. People, if you don’t talk to me, I will go insane. Even if you don’t want to talk to me, just say something just so I don’t leave you with a thousand messages. Honestly, I’m saying this for your own benefit. Don’t leave me in the dark. Because the dark won’t scare me, it will definitely scare you.

After that comes the fact that the person might never reply. I eventually accept it. I keep to myself that my heart is slightly fractured. I might cry a little bit, but my eyes’ tear ducts are often used so it’s not a big deal. I hate it when people don’t reply, or don’t talk to me at this point because I get the message loud and clear: They don’t care about me.

It’s fascinating nowadays how a person can go from meaning the world to you to becoming absolutely worthless. Not worth mentioning, not worth talking to, not worth your time or your love. We’ve already established that I give love out without any hesitation. And that I’m happy with the way that I am, because I believe that killing with kindness is better than living in solidarity with nothing and no one to love. But, to people who cut me off, who cut anyone off without a second glance, or to people who don’t reply because they don’t want to talk the person… why do you do it? How can you do it?

It surprises me. People love people, and people hate people. I constantly say I hate everything. I constantly say it. But those that I talk to? I love. Why would I not love those I spend time with and care about so deeply? So, if you’re talking to someone, and you have a fight, and none of you talk for a while, don’t let that just slip away. The person you’re not talking to is someone you used to know, someone you used to enjoy talking to. And in this world filled with so much hate, destruction, corruption and, let’s face it, shit, you need people whose company you enjoy. So pick up that phone, and talk to someone you want to talk to. Leave your pride out of it.

The Perks of Intelligence

If I were a smarter person, I’d probably not put myself down all the time. I’d understand that everyone has their off days, including me, and I’d just take time to myself to heal. Emotions are nothing to be afraid of, and they’re nothing to hide either. Everyone feels down at one point, but if you’re feeling down, you shouldn’t make yourself feel worse; that’s just cruel. However, when I feel down, I start to recount all the things I hate about myself, and that’s a long list, believe me. Even worse? I go around telling people, willing them to make me feel better, knowing they can’t.

If I were a smarter person, I’d start exercising, instead of complaining about eating too much. I love food, and I’d like to believe food loves me. And I’m not talking about calories and becoming fat and all that. Of course most of us want healthy, sexy bodies. We want to be desired, there’s nothing wrong with that. And though nothing will stop my love of food, I need to get my sorry ass off that couch and do something with my life. But no, the only place I go to is my kitchen, and that’s only to pick up another bag of chips to eat on my red couch.

I were a smarter person, I’d probably be prettier too. I’m not talking about increased intelligence making someone more desirable at this point, just increased awareness. Instead of constantly looking in the mirror and noticing all my flaws, grimacing at what I’d see, I’d highlight my best features, and feel pretty myself. And once you see it, and internalize it, other people start to see it too. Instead of unconsciously saying “ew” or avoiding eye contact whenever someone complimented me, I’d say “Thank you” and take it in stride. No one has to compliment you, no one has to tell you you’re pretty. They do it because they want to. They do it because they see something pleasing to their eyes and the want to say it.

If I were a smarter person, I would do all these things. But I’m not. I only know all these things and can’t apply them.

Insecurities are not a joke. They’re not something to take light. They’re not something that should drive people away. They’re not something you tell another person to get over. I wish I could. Every day I wish I was someone different, and that I lived in a world that belonged to other people as well as myself, not just my own. People can tell me time and time again that I’m a great person, but nothing will ever settle unless I believe it myself.

For the whole of 2015, I have tried to love myself. But for some absurd reason, I cannot. It’s absurd because I know love. I love other people with such a passion that they can feel it. And if they can’t? I make them. I love love. I love loving people. I love making people feel loved.

But why can’t I love myself? They say you can’t love anyone until you love yourself but that’s not true because I spend my time just loving others. Putting a smile on their faces. It’s even better when they’re not very emotional people and they just love me because I feel like I’ve gotten through to them. Talking like this makes it seem like it’s a prize I’ve won, but it’s really not. It’s just what I like to do.

And see, if I were a smarter person, and I loved myself, I could give even more love to people. But because I were a smarter person, and I loved myself, I would give it to the right people, those who won’t hurt me. Because all insecurities stem from some place, and mine stem from the hurt that people caused me. And that alone should make me smart enough to not trust everyone right away. That alone should make me wise up and only give love to those who plan to love in return, maybe not right away, but at least some day.

But, hey, I think the one thing we’ve learned from this blog post is I’m not a very smart person.


Here’s a little something about me: I hate where I live.

Consider this, I was born and raised in one place for 15 years, then I moved with half my family to another place and I’m still currently there. I hate change, even though I know it’s inevitable, and I’m shy and introverted. Change scares me, and therefore, Life scares me. But, to make the best out of a bad situation, I made my comfort zone my shell and like a turtle, carried that everywhere with me. It was hard to make friends, but I did the best I could and I found that some people are worth letting into your bubble, even if they don’t intend to stay. Sometimes, they change you for the better.

Anyway, this blog post isn’t about my amazing transformation from ugly shy duckling into beautiful outgoing swan. I’m still as introverted as ever. I just wanted to show my readers, and anyone else who’s randomly listening, what my writing style is like, and I decided to show one of my pieces (a prose piece) which I wrote around 2 years ago about what being on the outside is like. And how badly I want to fit in but I seemingly cannot.

Don’t speak. Don’t move. Just listen. All the birds are singing the same tune. Perfect harmony. If you just listen, you can hear all the peace in the world. Imagine all that’s right, and pray that all that’s wrong was imagined.

Now listen again.

That damned bird. That one bird that’s chirping a different tune. Disrupting the peace, ruining the harmony. Why would it do that?

Listen some more.

It’s a cry for help. It’s not a song, its a confused whimper. Falling, crashing, hoping for some help. “Please help me sing your song,” it says, “I’ve been in the dark for so long.” The bird wants to fit in, but has been out of the loop for so long. Can it? Will it? Is the bird too different?

Perhaps it’s like a rock, wedged in the sea, waves constantly crashing and taking away. The waves lose nothing, but the rock’s sharp and witty edges are withering away. Do the waves care? No. They have been set in their ways. Since the beginning of time, the moon has been pulling and pushing the tide. Who is this lowly rock to tell the moon that it’s wrong?

The rock, though it may take time, will smooth over. The rock will have perfect edges, and will not draw blood from those who stand up on it. Will not speak unless spoken to, will not breath till the waves allow it to. The bird will hum the tune of it’s people now.

The spindle of life is still turning. As humans, we see something sharp and we must touch it. No matter how many times we are told not to touch the cactus, it’s very enticing to us. We have pricked our fingers on the spindle of life and we’ve fallen into a deep sleep. A sleep called contentment. We’re all fine, and we can’t complain, and life’s grand. And we’re asleep, and there’s no prince and there’s no way out? The walls are closing in.

No, I refuse to accept this. It’s not happiness, it’s pseudo-contentment. Fine is not good, we can’t complain because we’ll be branded ungrateful and life’s grand because well at least we’ve got out health. This pseudo-contentment is all we’ve got, and we stay there because… we do. We stay because every time we see a cactus, we prick our fingers. We stay because we make the same mistakes. We stay although we’ve got nothing to lose. The bird stays, and learns the new song. The rock stays and loses, day after day. We don’t plan to move away. Sometimes, we can’t. Sometimes, it’s not our choice. Who are we to uproot our lives and move? Who is a person without their roots?

Why do I stay in the arms of pseudo-contentment? What have I got to lose?


Well… I felt like that was kind of intense. I hope you enjoyed it. It’s one of the pieces I’m proud of. Also, to continue a story and not leave you with questions, I have changed. I’m different than the person who lived in one place all her life, but I’ve kept the qualities that make me the person I am. So, maybe I have changed for the better for adapting. It’s not always easy to admit that a place you hate was good for you, but I think it builds character or something of the sort. Let your experiences guide your personality. It might surprise you.

Thump Thump

It has recently come to my attention that the world revolves around heartbreak. And that they’re are several forms of heartbreak, so I don’t mean that the world revolves around love. Yes, the Beatles sang about how all you need is love, love, love is all you need, and maybe that’s true for some people (I honestly think you need more) but I’m talking about the pain.

I believe anything could break your heart, and that there are degrees of shattering. Also, I don’t mean to belittle the earth-shattering end of a romantic relationship that at times doesn’t seem to get better. I think that would be the most prominent form and rightfully so. How many of us have cried over love, requited or unrequited.

However, to get to the point, I’m going to talk about other forms. For example, children can break their mothers’ hearts in a matter of minutes. It takes a few words, a few unanswered questions, a few ungrateful replies. In my experience (as a child) a mother’s whole world is her children, no matter what else is on her mind, the children will always have a place there, and are always a priority. So, it makes sense that we’re also in her heart, at all times. So, imagine, if you will, a person who has taken care of you before you were even born, till adulthood and even further. Imagine now what place you hold in that heart. Imagine saying something that could hurt that person, and in turn, that heart. Shatter.

As Phil Collins says in one of my favorite songs (You’ll Be In My Heart) “No words describe a mother’s tears, no words can heal a broken heart” In that passage, he’s not talking about the romantic type of love.

Another form of heart break that I experience a lot is the hurt that happens when I fight with a friend. Mostly it’s my “soulmate” (best friend) and I love her to bits. She’s probably my favorite person that’s not family, but we fight a lot, no doubt. And every time we fight, my heart breaks a little bit. And I’m not saying that I’m innocent in all of this, not at all. The problem is we know everything about each other, so we know exactly what to say to hit that heart ache, even though we don’t mean to. Just those little words that stay with you, and boom, clap, the sound of my heart… breaking.

There are many forms, not getting the thing you wanted, not achieving your goals, getting angry at something you’ve created (you are your biggest critic, I would know), having a terrible day. As I said, degrees of shattering, and, depending on the degree, you have to learn how to patch it up now.

I think that heartbreak is a part of life, and a very big part. Because, we love, we make friends, we yell at people, we break up, we feel things. Emotions are a part of life, which includes hurt. I relate hurt to heartbreak because it only hurts if it affects your heart, right? But, since heartbreak is a part of life, we grow because of it, we build character, we learn from our mistakes.

I know most of us try to shove out the hurt. “No, I’m not hurting. Are you kidding? I’m fine!” But, it’s natural to feel broken, and like there’s no one to talk to and there’s no one who feels like you do. And it’s normal to not want to talk about it right now. But recognize that people want to help you and want you to talk to them, so help them help you, and don’t bottle it up for too long. After all, it’s only life.

Sorry this post was late guys, got a lot on my plate! Enjoy the video, and I’ll be back with a post on Saturday 🙂

Adieu till later, my friends.