I don’t wany anybody to fall in love with me.
I’m not worthy for such a thing.
I don’t want to see anybody first.
Because I hate looking at myself in the mirror.
It scares me that you might love me.
I’m not ready for that at all.
It scares me that you might leave me.
Because, the truth is, I don’t know what else to do.
I don’t want blood on my hands. No, not yet. I will. But not this time. Not anytime soon.
I think I’m through with not knowing what to do. In other words, I think I’ve made my choice. The only problem now is its actual execution- how to do it the right way (if there is a right way to these sort of things).
How do you tell someone that you’re leaving? After all you’ve been through? How will that work out for the best? I don’t think things like these work out for the best at all. Someone (i.e. me) will always come out looking like a player. I’m anticipating that. Though I hate it because, for the nth time in my life, I’ll have to turn my back on someone in favor of another.
I’d love to smooth out the transitions, but I think that’s impossible at this point. I have accepted the role I will have to play. It’s just a matter of acceptance. It’s all about being comfortable looking like the bad guy again.
I guess all I can say now is I’m sorry, in advance, for not giving second chances an actual second chance. I’ve shifted focus already.
I want to cry from the grief this is putting me through. And the confusion that I’m experiencing is clouding up my mind. Let’s just see. Let’s just wait and see.
And the choice I made keeps playing in my head over and over again.
Turns out it was just my paranoia of abandonment yesterday. It was all imagined. But it was so fucking real yesterday.
My issue now is how do I reveal certain things? When is the right time to do it all? Maybe the answer is there is no right time. There’s no such thing as a right time to induce sadness in somebody else… It’s the hardest thing I’m about to do. Really.
Again, I don’t know. I don’t know why I even bother to blog about things I am uncertain about.
I just need some form of release. Or maybe I’m waiting for the decision to be made for me. The second statement is a really bad recourse that I have gotten used to. Sadly.
The Choice.
Rewind 4 years back, and that’s exactly what will happen.
To look for you, embedded in another.
Because it is the only way.
I’m making the same excuses. I’m using the same lines. I’m rewinding again. I pray I won’t be left a wreckage after all this is through, again, for the second time in my life.
The choices dangle before me now. And I’m a little girl, who can’t pick her brand of heroine.
6 exams down and I’m frail. I think I’m failing terribly. Oh God, I can’t be removed from med school. I wouldn’t know what to do because I don’t have alternative life plans. I really don’t.
Patay ako. Patay talaga ako.
My transgressions are making me feel guilty. I don’t know why there is guilt. I’m not committed to anybody, but there is still guilt. Maybe because I know that I’m going to hurt somebody in the process.
Naguguluhan na talaga ako. Di ko alam ang gagawin ko. Di ko alam ano iisipin ko. Punyeta.
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Edited to add: Why do I feel like I’ve been abandoned again? It takes so LITTLE for me to feel so terribly alone and left behind. Maybe I’m just paranoid. Maybe it has a basis. A thousand reasons flood my already saturated mind. A thousand potent excuses arise. What is it that I did wrong this time? I’ve been working so hard to preserve things and now they’ve fallen apart again.
Oh god, what is it this time? What does it mean? What does it all mean? Tell me why I’m hanging at the edge of a fragile string again. Tell me why I find myself alone now: in the stillness of the velvet night; under the stars who never meddle and just watch.
I’ve been abandoned again. But I need to get my grip: I remember that I can’t tell between real and imagined abandonment. I can’t tell the difference, emotionally, at all. So I don’t know what’s actually happening right now. It’s like I’m blindfolded to reality. I must use my logic. I must stick to what I know as actually true.
Go, Pipay, go!
I’m tired.
My mood has shifted again.
I’m down again.
I’ll take two tabs of biperiden now, to elate my mood.
I feel so ugly. So fat, so ugly.
I hate myself right now.
I hate the choice I have to make. I hate the feel of impending doom.
Because I’m selfish, because I’m transgressing again.
And it keeps haunting my waking hours, over and over again.
I’m loving life at the moment. I feel happy. And stable.
Except for the hellish week that’s ahead, everything is fine.
I have 13 exams this week, and I just finished Pathology and Legal Medicine this afternoon. So 2 down, 11 more to go. Medical school is positively killing me, I know this. But I have no choice. No choice because I committed my life to this institution already. I love ASMPH, but I don’t think it loves me back hahaha.
Anyway, I’m off now to go home. I need sleep. I need coffee. I think I need you, too.
Edited to add: I don’t think I know how to love. I just learn to intensely focus on somebody. Could this be true? I would like to think that I am capable of loving somebody. I know the capacity is within me, but I can’t tell if it’s love or merely focusing. How the hell do I tell the difference?
Edited again to add: Now I’m scared. I’m really scared of what the future might bring, of what it would mean. I’ve never been so terrified of anything in my life. I’ve got so many complications happening in the near future that I don’t know how to handle. I’m scard shitless of them. Scared to the bone. Because I don’t know where I’m headed or how to do a balancing act. I’m scared of being found out again- of exposing what I really am because I don’t want a repetition of the past. And the inevitable nearness of the choice I have to make is draining the life out of me, bit by bit. I am terrified I’ll make a mistake again…
I shouldn’t feel this way anymore.
I shouldn’t give a fuck about you.
But I came across some things today that made me hate you all over again.
If you’re thinking I love you, you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t. I hate you. I hate you because you’re such a coward. I hate you because I know you’re hiding from me. I hate you for not cleaning up the mess you made. I hate you because you weren’t man enough to try to understand me. I hate you because I don’t see the sense of even being civil in you. I hate you so much it’s making me squeeze tears out of my skin. I want to rip you apart like sheets of helpless paper. I don’t know why I even got around to loving you in the first place. Ugh. I hate you.
I just fucking hate you. I woke up one day and had all my feelings for you zapped and it all turned to hate. If you’re thinking that at the end of this post I’d turn around and say I don’t hate you and I love you instead, well, you’re definitely wrong. Because this post won’t end up being one of my paradoxes. That’s another reason I hate you: you think everything is about you. Well, this post is about you. This post alone.
Bahala ka na sa buhay mo. I just made this post because I couldn’t understand why I still loathe you. I shouldn’t be giving a fuck now. I shouldn’t be feeling anything towards you. But, what a novelty to realize that I still hate you after all this time.
And you know what else? I don’t remember anything about you. Or myself. Or what we’ve been through. I just recall vague generalizations and I realize that I was never genuinely happy. I wasted so much time on you already. Thank God I woke up with a start one day and realized how much wastage there was.
Waste. That’s what you were: a waste of my time. Am I being unfair? No. It’s nothing less than what you deserve. I hate you so much I want to kill myself right now for even bothering to love you before. What a senseless and useless effort that was. Because that’s what it was: an effort. At the time, I thought I really loved you, I’ll give you that. But now? I don’t recall the feelings anymore. All I could recall was all the uncertainty you gave me; the wreckage you left me; and how I just knew you were slipping away.
No, there are better people out there for me. Ones who will understand me like you never bothered to. Ones who won’t shrink away with fear when faced with a complication. Ones who will really care. I just so fucking hate you right now, it’s not even controllable anymore.
Yuck. Me loving you? Yuck. That’s all I can say. Yuck.
I think last night, I was high on Biperiden, my anti-Parkinson’s drug. It’s notorious for making people feel high. And I took a double dose because I was shaking terribly.
But I am stable today.
I’m still happy.
I’m still glad.
I still see life as beautiful, though not to the same degree as yesterday.
But it will suffice.
Gaaah. So much to study.
I gotta stop procastinating. Here I go.
