Scatteredfafa

My mind has been swarming with negative thoughts, and the familiar feeling of doom is back. My pores are clogged up with toxicity oozing out from inside me, and the air around me feels heavy, clinging on to my skin, anchoring me to the dark clouds that surround me, drowning myself in a torpedo that no one else can see. I feel very bad about myself. There's so much limiting beliefs that I cannot shake off. People say self-awareness is the first step towards healing, but I feel like I'm still stuck in square one. I'm confused and lost but most of all, I'm scared. I'm afraid of the future.  I'm stuck inside too long. I wonder whether the sun misses me, but then I doubt that, who am I anyways. There goes the problematic self-deprecating way of how I talk to myself these days. There's no need to contemplate on whether or not I think too much, I'm a known overthinker.  Delving in deeper, all I see are my flaws, and I don't know how to look somewhere else. ...

I have arrived again at a crossroad. The arrow signs are crooked and unwieldy. My compass has gone haywire and I can feel the invisible tugs coming from every direction. A choice has to be made, but my heart is heavy and my legs refuse to take another step forward nor backward. It's a strange predicament to be in. Knowing the sky is the limit but yet struggling to fight off the feeling of being chained and restrained. I've been standing at the same intersection for some time, trying to calm the nerves that frizzled at every bird that flutters past and to hold on to hope that dwindles at every light that dims. Time flies, ignoring my silent hopeless pleas of stopping just for me, a wretchedly lost girl.  And so I come, to the comfort of words, to listen to my heart. I've come back to swim in the swirl of my thoughts. I shall now sit and listen at the crossroad. Soon, I'll see my path and walk it with faith. 

22k cases. My mind can't wrap around the logic of how this is happening. I believe everyone is as fed up as I am. It's a frustration that's brimming and even the lid is flying off, the whole being about to explode. It's an invisible itch that appears to be crawling along every inch of the skin. The question that haunts me, driving me up the wall to yell at everyone: "how the fuck did we get to this point?"  I've been like a lunatic. Randomly saying how life is meaningless and making jokes about how stupid everyone is. Fake it till you make it they say. Waiting for someone to inject hope into the wound swollen with pus of despair. I have a great imagination, but it has failed me, because I cannot imagine what could make me happy today or even in the future.  I love being busy, I don't like my mind. Ever since the lockdown, it has just been a constant inner fight. I can never go to therapy because I'd feel bad for wasting the therapist's time and...

Olympic drama, politics, plague, people etc! So many things! So many problems! So many hate! So many evil! I'm moving to another planet, where love grows flowers and tears heal all wounds. I'm just tired, knowing very well that I have not done anything for the fight against evil and contributed nothing to the world but I still wish I can bring joy and hope amidst the chaos. I don't care about drama where it just involves pure hate, not scandals and conspiracy theories. Politics hurts my feelings, I can't believe how selfish politicians can sleep at night. If I think too much about the coronavirus, I don't think I can function. It seems like everyone is preoccupied with either one of those things right now, I wouldn't want to be a bother. And so I isolate myself and I write. I've been writing everyday, but I never finish any of them. Conversations with myself has increased tenfold and I have this nagging feeling to be a whole new person and start a new life. ...

Healing is a process. Self love, a relationship with yourself is like any other relationships, it's not perfect and sometimes a turbulence hits.  I've just realised that these few days, I have not been true to myself and it has caused me to relapse. I don't know where my mind went, I wasn't conscious. Doing things that I don't want to do and being a pathetic beta. Let's call her out shall we.  Few nights ago, a group of friends of mine wanted to have a call, I didn't really want to but I went anyways. I was quiet the whole time, I felt even lonelier than being alone. I've never known how to end or leave a call, and so I stayed on, and I hated myself for that so much. It's not their fault. I wanted to be part of their group. I messed up my own sleep schedule and neglected my own feelings, and ended up being really angry at myself. The old me wouldn't have done that, the old me cared about me. I need to believe that I'm good enough that people ...

I miss life before this nightmare. I've compromised the 'new normal' which requires face masks in public and wired my brain into not standing too close to people, but now we are thrown back into isolation, and it's driving me crazy.  I'm immensely grateful that I get to cower in a comfortable home and wait out the 'war'. But it's getting depressing and not doing anything to help the situation fills me up with guilt and I feel ashamed to even feel what I feel, let alone express it. I know I'm not alone in feeling this way. Some days I remember that life needs to go on and to focus on the things I can control and appreciate life, but some days I cannot find the will to get up from bed to face another day of bad news. It's a loop of dejected sighs seeing the rise in numbers and self pep talks to maintain the hope that things will get better. It's tiring to get up each day just to trip again and again, wondering when it will ever end. I cannot se...

I don't think I am an extrovert but I'm not entirely an introvert as well. Maybe I'm an ambivert or an introvert who tries to be more extroverted. Here's how my social life goes:  I like talking but I prefer listening. I love going out with people who have many things to say and I get to just sit and listen. I can be very talkative and I do have a lot of nonsense, fun facts, jokes and gossips packed inside me, but sometimes I wish people would tell me stories and make me laugh instead. I love collecting stories like the Grimm brothers. I call anything anyone says as stories. Questions like "How are you" makes me uncomfortable. I'd have the itch to talk about how I felt when I woke up that day or how bad my PMS was last month, but I'd suffer from inner panic because I don't know where to start and end up just awkwardly avoiding the question. Some days I can call my friends for no reasons at all, while some days even replying to a 'Hi' takes ...

At the start of quarantine, I was thrilled to be able to do online classes. It meant I don't need to socialise, don't need to face terrible humans or be stucked in traffic jams which I could feel sucking the life out of me. (Pinterest) Me in my fluffy bath robe and 150ml of wine for the antioxidants every other night. Time passed, online classes for my final year in University has come to an end, and we are still stuck in quarantine. Again. To be honest, I'm starting to get.... lonely. A sign confirming that I am human with social needs. There goes any hope of me getting notified that I am actually a mermaid. I have caring friends and a loving family, but I still feel lonely sometimes. It confuses me too. I talk to my family everyday but sometimes I just feel this pang of emptiness. My friends seem to be living busy and fulfilled lives that I'm always scared I might be talking too much (which I know is absurd). I'm always alone in my room and although I love being f...