What if things can be happier?

Sometimes sleep just doesn’t come easy. 

I take a bath. I fix my bed for the umpteenth time. I listen to a bit of music. But still nothing. Still the calm and comfort, essential prerequisites for a nice resting sleep, eludes me. And deep inside I refuse to acknowledge the possible reason why.

I’m quite used to being alone. In fact, I enjoy being alone sometimes. Having the house to myself. Getting to watch movies and TV series without the interruption and obligation of human interaction. No one to ask me what I’m watching, who’s that actor, which character did just what to whom, stuff like that. I get to cook nice meals for myself and experiment with new snacks. Basically, I get to do what I want. It’s nice.

But I think it has reached a point in my life where I start to, I don’t know, hypothesize(?), that maybe things can get nicer. With an unusual cheesiness that I try to slap out of myself, I start to think what if I had someone with me during those moments. What if I had someone special? What if I had someone to cook nice meals for? What if I had someone to experiment snacks with? What if I had someone I can watch movies and TV series with? I have even thought of a nice way to spend a day with someone, and I deeply judge myself for thinking something so cheesy. The day would go something like we would check for recipes online, go to a supermarket somewhere and buy ingredients, then go home and try to cook whatever food we chose, then eat it while watching a nice movie. At some point we may just end up sleeping through the film and then wake up and just go somewhere fun. I have no idea why these kinds of things enter my mind. And by the time my friends read this, my judgment and regret would be tenfold. I don’t know. I think it just has reached a point in my life where I think maybe it would be nice not to be alone.

I’m not sad. No, really. I’m not. I don’t mope around about the loneliness of our existence and I don’t plan to (that’s kind of my best friend’s thing). Perhaps you may even say I’m happy. It’s just that this thought enters my mind every now and then, this thought that maybe, with someone, I can be happier. Much happier than I am now. Maybe that’s what being lonely feels like. Not necessarily sad but a bit yearning for the possibility of a happiness upgrade with someone special. And maybe sometimes you don’t realize how lonely you are until you meet someone you want to be with. You see, you’ve been with yourself all those time and assuming you like yourself enough, you don’t really hate being alone. But then you meet this person and you say to yourself, “I want to be with that person more than I want to be with myself.” And then you get this great feeling, more than happiness, it’s like feeling every good feeling there is in the emotional spectrum, just by being with that person and making them happy. So you make that conscious decision to trade-off your perfectly happy alone-ness for this unbelievable company. Isn’t that awesome?

Okay, so how did I get to that point? Oh yeah, right. I can’t sleep. Or I just can’t get the mood to sleep. And somehow a part of me thinks it’s because at this ungodly hour I have this need to connect. Needy, I know. I don’t know why. I just feel like that’s the reason why. A part of me just wants to text someone and just connect even though I don’t really have anything to say. Needy and pathetic, I know (these adjectives are getting worse). Or maybe I have something to say, I’m just afraid that I would sound creepy (yeap, there goes another nice adjective).

Anyway, I think it’s time to end this post. I think I’m all out of words to continue typing. I guess I lost my train of thought and I have this feeling that I’m starting to lose sense. Haha. Good night.


This Coming Year I’m Trying This New Philosophy Called “Being Awesome”

This year was quite tough. Again. And it’s like it just flew right past me. Woosh, there goes another year. Yet here I remain practically the same.

This year I encountered new challenges, new people, new failures. This year I liked someone. After so long. After years of being a plant. “Like” as in like like. As in I-want-to-be-with-her-I-want-to-be-special-to-her-and-make-her-happy like. Genuine likeness. The keeps-you-up-at-night-thinking-of-awkward-shit likenitude (not really a word but it sounds cool so fuck off, I’m gonna make it a thing).

When you like someone that much, it makes you look at yourself. Like some kind of product, you scrutinize your being because after all, what you’re basically considering is selling yourself to another person and saying “Choose me! I’m one of the best out there. Definitely the right choice and worth the chance”. You see, this girl I like, she’s amazing. And I’m not just saying that because I like her, or okay maybe I am, but the point is I think she’s absolutely amazing. So it made my assessment of myself more striking. I realized that she’s out of my league (cue Stephen Speaks). Not just because she’s amazing but also because I’m not amazing enough (I’ve been saying “amazing” a lot, haven’t I?). I’m not a terrible person, let me just clarify that. Maybe just a little terrible. I’m moderately attractive (that is if I’m not sweating like hell which is all the time), mildly funny and acceptably intelligent. Basically, I’m okay. Just okay. Is “okay” good enough? For anyone? You know what else I realized? Of course you don’t so here it is: I realized that “okay” isn’t even good enough for me. I’m not good enough for myself. Boom! Deep shit level realization.

So this coming new year (actually I’ve started way before new year because fuck the new year, start now), I’m trying out this new philosophy called “Being Awesome”. “Being Awesome” is basically saying “yes!” more to life (Oprah level wisdom right there). It’s like Yes Man with more rationality. Like YOLO with less annoying attitude and more care for consequence. Doing more of what makes you happy, investing on yourself, learning interesting stuff, shit like that. Just improve yourself. That’s the point. Read more, do more, joke more. Just make yourself a better and more interesting person.

Cause you see, I realized (yes, another realization. With this chain of realizations I feel like I’m reaching Buddha level of enlightenment. So much realizations, layer after layer of realizations like a realization cake. Boom! Terrible simile) we are all capable of being awesomer versions of ourselves. A lot of us just don’t actively try to improve our awesomeness. And the thing about awesomeness is that it has no limit. So even if you are already so awesome that your awesomeness makes the souls of people you meet melt and cry then burst into a billion stars, you can still get awesomer. How awesome is that?! And even if you fail at your attempts at being awesome, you still get awesomer just by trying. So win-win, motherfuckers.

We must all grow awesomer with each passing year. We must not settle for a certain level of awesomeness. I’m tired of being just “okay”. This coming year, I’m gonna be better. This coming year, I’m gonna impress myself. This coming year, I’m gonna be awesomer.

It would be awesome if one day everyone wakes up and just decides to do whatever they want to do in life. But I guess there’ll be a lot of crimes cause you know, what if someone wants to kill someone then he does kill that other someone. You get the point.

Many would probably quit their jobs and give the finger to their boss or clients. A lot would probably trade their office job to pursue the arts. Go acting and singing and making movies and writing novels and learning to play the guitar or piano.

Many would just go and ask the girl or boy of their dreams out on a date. Or perhaps propose marriage. We’ll hear a lot of “I love you”, “I like you” and such. Oh the lucky people who’ll get a sweet response. For that fact, many would probably ask for divorce too.

We’ll probably see a lot of adults play children’s games and toys. We’ll probably see a lot of people just eat ice cream and pizza and spaghetti and fried chicken.

Many would probably engage in long face-to-face conversations despite the overwhelming awkwardness. They’ll pull no stops to the topics they’ve been holding in for so long. They’ll talk about their secret love for Pokemon, gardening, 50 Shades of Grey, knitting, gorillas, Twilight, porn, comic books, the same sex, paperwork.

Many would probably blog and blog and blog with no plan or outline and just keep on typing, keep on speaking out their mind, keep on spewing thought after thought after thought until they exhaust all the kept emotions and frustrations.

Many would leave. Just leave and go places. Travel around the world or go to a particular destination. Many would visit places and/or people. Many would try to start a new life. Many would go back home.

But the happy people, the truly happy, the I-can’t-be-any-happier people would stay the same. They would wake up and go about their usual life cause they’ve been doing what they love all along. They’ll happily go and do the same job. They’ll think of the same people. They’ll eat pretty much the same set of food. They’ll have their usual social interactions. They’ll go home to the same place. They won’t desire anything else. They won’t aspire for greater things not because they have no ambition but because they’ve attained it. The dream they had when they were younger? They’re living it. That point in their lives they were dreaming of? They’ve reached it.

Lucky bastards. Haha.

On the other hand, if one day everyone wakes up and just decides to do whatever they want to do in life, if that day ever does happen, there would be no one sadder than the people who do not know what they’ll do. They don’t want what they’re doing, what they have but they don’t know what to replace it with. In the midst of the millions chasing what they want, they’ll stay there puzzled and confused still asking themselves: what do I want?

Because you see, even if you hate your life right now but you know what you want, you’re still good to go. You don’t have it so bad. Because unlike those who don’t know what they want, you just got sidetracked, you’re not lost.

Lucky bastard. Haha.

You know what would be nice to have on a night like this? Someone to talk to. And not just someone who you’ll chat with and exchange “haha” and emoticons with. It would be nice to talk with someone who cares. Someone who is not just interested or bored. Someone who really cares. 

I find that difficult to find. In fact, to engage in something like that, I find hard to do. But I imagine it would be awesome to be just free, to feel so secured that you will lower all your defenses and just speak because you have no doubt on the sincerity of the person you’re talking to. You see no ulterior motives. You see and feel that they are there because they really want to and they enjoy it as much as you do. That they feel as free and true as you do. To feel so much trust that you are willing to be vulnerable to them. That would be awesome but a bit scary too.

We walk around feeling this immense weight within us. More than the problems and the worries, much of this weight comes from the armor we wear everywhere we go. These heavy defenses we put around ourselves to shield us from the world, most especially from other people. And you can’t just leave these defenses behind. Without them you are extremely vulnerable. You will be too easy to read and too easy to exploit. So you learn to build them. You learn to wear them all the time. You forget what it’s like to just be you. You forget how light it feels to be free of this vigilance from the probable pains the world may do to you.

Sometimes at night I feel this weight press on me. I can feel how much it has grown throughout the years. I feel how heavy it has become. And during nights like those, I imagine how good it must feel to be able to take the armor off for a while. To find someone to be free with.

Deep down, maybe I just don’t trust anyone and that is why I find it hard to be really true. It’s not that I don’t feel anything, it’s just that I don’t think I have someone I trust enough to share my feelings with. Not that I don’t have friends that are willing to listen. It’s just that I don’t feel comfortable sharing certain things to them. And that’s why feeling things suck. These feelings form inside but I never really get them to get out. I just store them someplace. And these feelings eventually add to the weight. 

I guess I’ll just have to learn to carry this weight around until the time I find someone with whom I’ll feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. And then things would be awesome.

Well, fuck you too, CRS.

The results of the first batch run of preenlistment is out and I got 3 units. 3 units amounting to one subject I don’t like. For some unusual reason which I can’t really put my finger on, this pisses me off. Maybe because I already hate school and now, school is hating me back even more. And everyone is just so happy and excited. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want them to feel terrible and shit. Good for them. But there’s just something irritating about the fact that everyone just seems so fucking jolly and excited about the future when you don’t have anything to look forward to.

I know there’s still a second run but what the hell, what a way to kick a man when he’s down.

I have trouble sleeping lately. Not just because I’m on a sembreak and “sleep is for the weak” is once again an acceptable motto. No, it’s not that. I spend the nights, the midnights, the after midnights trying to figure out the sleeping position that would finally give me rest. And I never seem to find it. I can’t find it for my unrest lies within (damn that was deep, medieval English deep).

Lately I have all these emotions. And I can’t explain these things I feel. I just feel them. These emotions never bother to explain themselves. They just enter the soul uninvited, making the inside of my chest squirm in the darkness of my room. And they seem so many, so plentiful. It’s like I am feeling a month’s worth of emotions in a single night. I am not used to this. I do not feel this much. Not usually. There are so many emotions swirling around that I can’t even pin one and scrutinize it carefully. I never get to understand them fully. They just move so fast, so many. And they just keep on making me feel but never letting me understand. And it sucks. It really does.

I feel stupid. I can’t understand myself anymore. These past few days, I don’t even feel like myself. Why do I keep on feeling things?! Can’t these emotions give me a break?! I mean Jesus Christ! Or at least come one-by-one. Like items in a grocery. I wish feelings would come singularly, give me a bit of time to detect them and assess them and then be off in a nice and secure package. But clearly they don’t. I hate feeling and not understanding. It makes me feel helpless in my own body. It’s the worst.

I will end this incredibly vague blog and try to sleep it off despite the fact that the problem is that it won’t let me sleep. If tomorrow I still feel these unexplainable shit, I may have to talk to an actual person about them. Like a friend. No, not a professional. I’m not that deep in the rabbit hole yet.

Some kinds of sickness don’t deserve healing. Some kinds of sickness only deserve isolation. An expulsion from the general populace so as to avoid infliction.

You have such a disease. In fact, you seem to enjoy it. You take pleasure in sharing your sickness – in spreading pain and sadness. Apparently, you gain something out of using others as an outlet for your brand of vileness. That’s what you do. You use others. And in that process, you damage them. You damage them in ways that seem impossible to recover from. What care do you have for them after all. They’re only of relative importance as long as they serve your purpose. When you’re done, you move on to others. Like a virus, you spread. Feeding on host after host, on people with weak defenses.

You take advantage. You are smart enough to know when to strike and then you take what you want and leave them feeling like shit. You only care about your needs. You are a savage, driven by desire and selfishness. Motivated by malicious intent and energized by victimizing others.

What’s worse is you seem to think that you are the victim in this story. You certainly aren’t, you pile of shit. You are poison, you are cancer. Once diagnosed, you must be left to concentrate on a single part and severed from the rest of the body.

In all respect to fairness, I am sure that you aren’t all bad. There is good in you. But right now, I couldn’t give a fuck about that. You deserve prejudice. You deserve judgement. If those whom you have done wrong to aren’t strong enough or full of enough hate to condemn you, I certainly am. And I condemn you for them.

There is frustration in knowing that wrong has been done but one has no right or power to execute punishment and deliver justice. I have no right. I have no authority. But fuck you. You deserve pain. You deserve sadness. You deserve my hate.