i haven't written to anyone, including myself for one to two months. i would point my finger on the assignments that are indeed stacking right infront of my brain, but they are not entirely at fault. here i am typing fragments of views that i have gained throughout my hiatus while sitting on a toilet seat -- classy. 

my health has strained me a little, but that's not to say that i should stop writing completely, now does it? it's May, who have i become? i am not lazy at all, not a bit, i have been on the grind since tasks were given a month ago. have i grown? well, my hair is longer... it was auburn, then blonde, then black. i still have the tendency to care about what others think though, need to work on that again. however, due to the constant flow of reminder how i shouldn't and the ultimate fact that they don't inspires me to be more of an I than a me these days.

I vs. me is one of the symbolic interactionism theories. for those who are not familiar, 'I' is somewhat carefree and instinctual -- does not take shit from others. whereas 'me' is socially aware and more deliberative. after learning this theory, an epiphany lit up like a light bulb; i have two sides of me when i am around certain groups of people, i am not entirely myself when i am with close friends too... so who am 'I'? mind you, one cannot simultaneously be 'I' and 'me', it's impossible. so, let's dig a little deeper into the two sides of me (or I).

if i were to be: 

I: rude but honest, standing up for myself, saying no, stating opinions... basically the voices in my head.

Me: friendly, socially acceptable, saying yes, presentable, funny, emotionally stable... it is still who I am, but not as a whole. 

it is annoying once you have put a face onto yourself and once people are used to the 'me', they would assume you have changed due to you expressing 'I'. the thing is, we wouldn't notice the difference between the two if it hadn't been for awareness. without knowing the theory, we would nod to their assumptions, accepting that we have changed. the question is, does anyone really know who they are like the back of their hands? or are we all dragging ourselves through eggshells of society's expectations? 

it is challenging to be friends with someone as well, even the long-term ones because they never truly know. will they ever know?

being alone

|

understanding oneself

|

learning how to handle and cope difficulties on your own

|

independence

|

knowing your self-worth and strength

|

quality over quantity in regards to people

|

being a better listener and observer

|

expressing notions and opinions when needed

|

peace and solace.

No matter how dark and brutally honest reality can be, we all end up alone in the end. Therefore, might as well use this chance to be best friends with ourselves so when the time comes, we won't go insane over aloneness and loneliness. Introduce yourself, ask questions on what you like and your goals, your deepest secrets that no one would ever know, just you. In this borrowed time, no matter your beliefs -- believe in yourself because no one else will know you better than you do. 

but what do I know?

-charles buckowski. 

__________________________________________________________

Down on the street

Just let the engine run

'Til there's nothing left

Except the damage done

Beck's Morning Phase is on my top 10 favourite albums of all time. There is something about the ethereal ambience that transports me to some place better than reality every time I listen to tracks like Unforgiven, Wave or Morning -- for once, I feel at peace. I would say it has a similar affect on me like Bon Iver's Holocene, Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb and Gregory Alan Isakov's Amsterdam. It is quite a complex feeling to unravel, at least for my part but it is there y'know? Surely you've encountered a song that made you go "oh wow!" with a slight of warmth flowing through your body and soul. Yeah...

I woke up at 10 today with a heavy chest. If I calculate it correctly, I had 11 hours of sleep in total and that only happens when I'm a bit off. My back is resting on the headboard of my bed and I am writing this in the dark even if it is 11 30am now (I always have my curtains closed) -- I wonder if I have changed or at least become a better person. I wonder if my parents are proud of me and whether they miss me as much as I miss them. I wonder once I start wondering about the wonders my brain might explode if I don't stop.

So,
    stop wondering.
I

 c
    a
      n
         't.

Maybe tomorrow?

But,
I always say that
and you know me
because
you
ARE
 me.

Have you ever heard the trembling voices of Conor Oberst, Thom Yorke, Keaton Hanson, Damien Rice, Elliott Smith, Matthew Houck (Phosphorescent)...? If I were to interpret the sounds of my soul, it'd be just that. Trembling vulnerability plucked by each note of whispers, laughter, stares, passing glances.

Lines,
spaces I have yet to fill.
Lies,
words that I used to conceal.
Books,
left untouched,
covered in dust.
Hands,
shivering,
covered by mere fabric.
Hair,
unkempt,
they know what I'm thinking.
Eyes,
half closed.
Lips,
chapped,
but that's okay.
Soul,
warm,
crippled within time,
pure but disheveled.

Lauren Elizabeth has always been one of my go-to YouTubers for years now and I have never connected to a video with such depth and emotions until I re-watched her first video this year. The content was mainly about her generally speaking about being open to expressing life struggles and/or mental illness. Our similarities in that sense is uncanny. That being said, April has not been kind to me as massive accumulation of fear and anxiety have grabbed hold to my life yet again with more or less similar factors that Lauren have pointed out in that video. 

"I got to this place where I was afraid of everything. I was afraid of losing people -- losing myself, I was afraid of change, 'what if... what if... what if?'. From every little thing to every big thing; if I don't do this, this is gonna happen. I would close my eyes and like black out and just like get in this state of anxiety. There's a solid chunk of 2015 that I don't remember because I feel like I wasn't myself."

One of the few things that I figured out about who I am ever since anxiety knocked on my door few years back is to write it in a journal. The constant flow of panic attacks, breakdowns, insufferable emotional pain -- it broke me... It definitely did and if it weren't for my posts or journal entries, I wouldn't remember what happened when I lost myself. 

The journey to recovery might be delayed, however, I have some great people in my life and environment to appreciate. I am thinking on going back to therapy to talk it through with my doctor as well as getting a medical check considering my health has gone haywire. However, as a reminder for any Muslims who are dealing with sorrow or pain;

"There is a polish for everything that takes away rust; and the polish for the heart is the remembrance of Allah." - Bukhari

As a closing note to this post; all will be well if you put your faith into something you believe in the good. Learn from life's tests and acknowledge it in order to gain wisdom. A wise person is someone whom I always thought that have gone through some tough... tough times, yet, still put their feet on the ground and stand tall with an opened mind, and heart. That is truly a person to look up to. Imagine if someone looks up to you in that way too. 

It's not impossible, if you try.

ps: To the idiot that I am guilty to be in love with who is also my best friend, if it's not clear from the texts I sent you, I love you and I am glad you are in my life. God bless you x

[Growing Up - Run River North]

Do you see that infinite white line on the side of the road? It reminds me of something similar to everything that is in life; family, friends, love. I think... As you grow older, you will start taking notice of things, the bigger picture if you please -- it's funny. 

Why is it funny? Because before, we tend to ignore the bigger picture nor the little things -- the more you age and experience the never-ending sorrows that life brings, you would much rather look at the silver lining as oppose to the raging storm happening. 

Growing up scares me, does it scare you? From a naive little girl with a variety of barbie collections, Tony Hawk video games and a tiny diary, shape shifted into this 19 year old basket case -- it's not a bad thing. 

From crying over head bumps, falling towards the concrete, cat scratches, knife cuts, douchebags, backstabbing, rumours, misunderstanding, death to not crying at all. 

Time changes so fast, it either gets difficult or easy. My choice is the latter.

I don't know if I have become stronger or I don't care about anything at all -- but the truth to the matter is, I care a lot and I feel too much. Is that so bad? No.

I have always take chances because of a cliche fact; life is short.

 Life is short, what are you going to do about it? 

Be extraordinary.

[Robbers - The 1975]

Whispers in my head told you to stay, 

stay.

Strangers in the dark coexisted,

funny how life works.

Beautiful brains like yours belong somewhere extravagant,

exhilarating yet familiar.

Constant cravings for something intense and passionate.

You let your words out without any hesitation and it is admirable.

It doesn't have to end now unless you let it.

Cowardly actions are despised by people like me,

but who am I to say when I myself am a cowardly lioness.

Time chases you despite how fast you run,

it is okay to stay still.

Breathe

Revolving around bad timings,

I never knew what luck is til I let myself appreciate the little things.

Be kind and patient.

Always

I hope my kindness affected someone,

I hope I was worth your time.

Though I might leave for now,

we will see each other when it is right.

God has better plans, and I trust him wholeheartedly.

I hope you do too.

Hey guys! This post will be short and slightly cheesy, for me that is. 

You know how some people were born to seek for love and affection and others chose their goals over love? I think I was meant to be the latter. After tons and tons of heartbreaks and bad timings, I have realized that it has always been my goals. Maybe I was too emotionally and mentally involved with achieving my goals to let myself fall for another 'perfect' human being. I was given the chance to, but I just didn't know how. 

 My life has been blessed lately by loads of opportunities in the creative arts department and I am forever grateful. The fact is, I made that happen, me(with a little help from my friends, of course)! It's ridiculous to hear that coming out from your own mouth. I took a brave step to expose myself, expose my emotions through various forms of arts and finally, thank God, they noticed. 

Being seen and acknowledged via your art work, be it through poetry, music or paintings, it is somewhat similar to stripping naked. Your art is an expression of your soul and you were willing to express it which proves how brave of a person you are. I have realized that it is not an easy task to do -- not all of us could gather up the courage to show our naked souls to someone, or everyone. 

It needs to be appreciated. 

Creative arts are important especially for my generation. It is difficult for us to express ourselves with oldies complaining or lecturing on how rude it is to even give our slightest opinion all the time. Seriously? There is no freedom of speech and the arts are still oppressed. 

Therefore, we will take a stand.

This shall be the time where you will notice some changes. 

"Art is a way of survival." - Yoko Ono

I have been quite busy today and I loved every minute of it as I needed a productive distraction. Mims was given an opportunity to film a piece for Collective Arts in a rustic boutique in Kiulap, L'Orient, and he was kind enough to invite me to come along and help. I will post a few photos of the activity. It was worth it, I had fun -- I am thankful.

[But I Do - Now, Now]

I am currently in between tables in my office, hiding in the dark attempting to avoid the true darkness that is about to resurface. 

I am terrified.

A year ago, the constant reminder that I gave myself was "it's okay to not be strong. Sometimes a person can hold this much" But at the moment, I am forcing myself to fight it. I need to be strong for myself and everyone else.

I have to.

The obligation to keep your sanity on neutral mode is pressurized by society and the people who are close to you. For those who are fortunate enough, they are accepted by whatever emotional stages they are in -- I am one of those fortunate people.

I am grateful. I couldn't ask for more than what I have right now. 

My circle of friends finally made me feel like I am worth living in this horrid world and showed me how beautiful flaws can be in any form -- I couldn't thank them enough. 

Without you guys, I wouldn't be here. 

Thank you, 

thank you,

thank you.

The month of May was incredibly tiring and as the day went by, the more drainage it caused to my brain. The multimedia team and I were working super hard for our short film while trying to complete our assignments before the deadline. Then we proceed to revising for our final examinations which was on the first week of June.

Within the last few weeks, I have been going out a lot in order to keep my thoughts at bay and avoid being at home. Enjoying my time with the misfits and basket case on spontaneous road trips and losing our voices by singing out loud -- our lives were something that came out of a movie at that moment. We had sleepovers and deep conversations. A few broke down while doing so and everyone was genuinely there; present, listening and understanding. I have never had those in my life before, I had only two but they were distracted most of the time. So, seeing the way my current circle of friends deal with one of their episodes were endearing and it made me feel secure. Being a basket case my whole life is a challenge, they can relate. Yes, it is cliche to be an outcast, truth be told, there were not enough movies/films or books to acknowledge the life of my "kind/character".

Going back to when I was 12, Green Day made me realise I was a basket case and since then, 'Basket Case' was and is my life's anthem. People rarely understood me because I was peculiar in some ways. I tried exhaustively to conceal my inner kookiness in order for others to accept me. It took me awhile to adjust and change my perspective. I have opened up and been exposed to various types of people -- within those tedious years of bumping into the rights and wrongs, the bitches and assholes; I am glad to say that I have found my band of misfits cause I know where I belong... as for now. Sharing personal information as well as mixtapes are common for us. We expose our inner-selves or souls to each other and that is the most rewarding thing I could ever ask for.

Few weeks of fun and laughter exhausted me and my brain, especially. A friend of mine slept over here few nights ago, I invited over two of my friends to bake some cookies and jam to music. An hour after, they were told to leave, as it was early and me trying to ground myself, I told her to join the boys so she'll have at least a good time with them rather than staying here helping me clean up.
It may sound like it wasn't a big deal, but I was embarrassed that they were forced to leave as soon as possible. It triggered something in me, therefore, I broke down. It is frequently a norm for me to break down, however that night was antithetical. Millions of thoughts crashed like tsunami waves in my tired brain and I was in an incredibly vulnerable state. I cried for hours while listening to The Fray hoping they'll help -- but it made matters worse. Being lectured in the Asian household is conventional and is considered as a daily routine for parents, especially for someone like me. Not only my exhausted self is making me weak, also my emotions took over. I used an old friend of mine, the razor and did a few cuts on my right arm. Considering that I had an acute anxiety attack, I took approximately three tablets of clonazepam to ease it off. What I didn't realise was I took all ten and since then, I could not remember what happened. All I am able to recall is the moment I opened the door when my friend came back and I blacked out until the next day, at 7am. The first thing I did was attempting to stand up but couldn't because I was uncoordinated and numb. I felt nauseous and vomited twice which was not a good sign.

To save you from the treacherous occurrences that went on; I checked in myself to the ER and spent a night at the hospital because I was overdosed. There was a question repeated in my mind: "are you sure you accidentally took all 10mg in order to keep your thoughts and emotions at bay, or did you expect to OD on the pills and end your life?" It's a terrifying question, if I had to say so myself.

I still haven't figured it out yet. Maybe, some part of me would've wanted me to die, and the other wanted me to wait for awhile, it's not the time yet. I couldn't find the core problem of it all -- doctors and people kept on shoving similar questions down my throat: "what triggered it?" "were you upset?" And all I was able to answer was: "I took two to three pills expecting them to keep me calm from my anxiety attack while watching a TV show. I didn't realise I took ten and everything was a blur since then."

My friends told me I was lucky my body rejected the drugs.  I wasn't myself that day -- it was scary. I was scared and confused most of the time -- of course I was, I still am. Despite wanting to be independent, a person needs love and someone who understands plus takes good care of them from time to time. I have only had that when I was a kid. After growing up to the sad news that I was adopted, I have lost my trust and comfort in my home and with my family. I know they accept and love me -- once you knew that you didn't belong, you're an alien. In all honesty, I do appreciate their effort, I do. Some things are meant to be separated, if that makes sense. I was meant to be given away from my birth parents and move into a decent home with people who love me. Same thing applies to life and death; you live, learn, love and then you die surrounded by the people you've lived with and loved. I was brought up religiously with a side of affection. I appreciated that. Dad is currently working hard, he's always been, in order to get us to wherever we want to go; achieving our goals and also coping with the economy. I am grateful, I hope they know that.

There was a nurse from the ER who shared her story about her adopted sister. She told me she tried her best to ensure her sister feels like she belongs with the family and that they love her like their own. "You're still young, and beautiful. You have so much to live for. Promise me I won't see you here ever again," she said. I teared up and hugged her twice and couldn't thank her enough.

A day after I was discharged, which is today; my parents came to me worrying about their reputation on what people might think. I deleted the post of me on the ER yesterday because I know the consequences, hence them telling me that if it isn't important, do not post it. I could've died if my body did not reject the drugs, but I guess it isn't important.

They didn't know that, whenever I am alone, for 7 years now I have held it in... I didn't talk to them, I didn't have friends to talk to back then -- I was alone. They didn't know that whenever I am alone, I always go to God and pray my heart out with watery eyes like a broken tap. These constant thoughts and images automatically run through me and to my left hand -- all I need is either a keypad or pen and paper to write them down. My parents don't get how crazy I can get if I were to keep my thoughts locked up in a hypothetical cage rather than letting them out in written form. I wish I could express it verbally like normal people do, I tried to sometimes but I tend to choke on my words -- tongue tied. Such a coward.

Clearly, my situation effects them, all of them. I am not blind. I may be in denial for most things, but not this. I am sorry.

I am in an endless battle with myself. It is not the 'demons' or anything. I am with God, and I do believe he is watching over me despite my actions. Parents don't see what our generation see; life is complicated, praying does help, friends do too. Those who are unfortunate depend on drugs to get high when they're at their lowest, or commit suicide because they thought it was the only way to end the unbearable pain.
As for me, praying, friends, music and writing are my sanity. Surrounding myself with people who have done things that aren't particularly 'religious' is definitely a challenge. But I try to remind them to hold onto their faith -- it worries me whenever they have their own episodes and I am not good with handling emotional things which is highly ironic as I am the most emotional person in our circle. However, that does not mean I cannot be there for them. I try to, I hope it's enough. If not, I am sorry.

My episodes can be tolerable, other times they are destructive. I am a time bomb -- someday I can spontaneously combust and I am sorry too.

"Just because someone looks strong, doesn't mean nothings wrong, because even the strongest person needs a shoulder to cry on."

Suicide is not how I would want my book's ending to be. My story has just begun and I intend to make it worth the read. Maybe I should name it 'The Band of Misfits vs Reality.' Sounds kinda cool, doesn't it?