Dec 1, 2018

vessels

the other truth about my unwanted ghosts

there’s always so much intensity overflowing my head at a time and yet it just burns in my tongue before I get to tell them

I feel as if I’ve grown more aloof, slower, and a lot more disconnected than I ever was. I led myself here, I just know it.

In this entry, I’ll be writing the other end of me. With more elaborate string of words I can pull together to express what I really don’t express that often. The unwanted ghosts that knock on my door. The other ‘truth’ of myself, I would say.

Everything I’ve written on this diary has always come from the heart. Although deep down I never really pried on the gloomy figures for too long.

It’s there, though. These unwanted guests would come and go whenever they please; taking things, losing things, or mixing them all up. I’ve introduced them as one whole before, but that’s not to say they never left for good.

They always come back. Shameless than ever.

On those dreary times, they’d greet me with an entrancing smile. Sometimes a hard slap in the face, or would even creep up on me without me knowing until they’re gone again.

This year, the ghosts were quite lively. Big exciting changes; from going to school again, living on my own, and the others things — the guests didn’t like it one bit. It pushed so many things I held dear. It pushed myself away as well. I mean, nothing new I guess. Perhaps it wasn’t even the guest’s doing, maybe it was truly mine. My judgement has been more bleary by the day, and I’ve grown terrifyingly forgetful.

This was the year I had to face my own guests the most. It was a bit easier to handle them back then, but the more I pushed them away the rowdier they got.

god, my head is so loud right now.

Yes, I do dream. Yes, I knew I was staying true to myself. I worked hard to drive myself to where I am.

But this year I realised (and yet somewhat knew) the number one reason I kept going on was that I hated myself to the bone. I thought that fulfilling things would make it better. That I’ll be better. But nope, it just made the dreams quiet for a while. Now I hear them more. I realised I was procrastinating.

Because I knew you can’t run away from yourself, and I already met my dead end. I can run away as far as I can but I’ll still be carrying myself forever.

It was awfully naive & careless of me to think every spell would be undone. No, Naomi. That’s not how it works. I still had to go to therapy. I still had to go take medications. I can no longer escape because this is the dead end. The only way is to go up from here, and I wasn’t in the right state to. Face it or you’ll end up losing yourself for good. But what do I care, right?

The one thing I value most is sincerity, and yet how, oh how can I be utterly genuine when I don’t even love myself? How can I get better if I hate myself too much to actually even start?

The truth is I want to be dead. Not a pity fest, but a fact. I don’t want to exist. Period. That’s why I can’t be bothered and I just want everyone to stop trying to help me. It’s exhausting on both ends.

This virtual diary is a way to comfort myself and lull myself out of the bad things. It just so happened that it helped people along the way too, which is amazing, but I never felt like I deserved it.

I guess I am my own guests, my own black holes, too.