Been Tumblring...Until Now (A Few Years Ago...)

    "It's been a long time since I've posted anything online (here, Tumblr, Twitter). I've lost interest in so many things, (of course) one of them being writing. Passion is no longer in anything I do because everything has become more of a chore than a hobby/past-time activity. But, I choose from now on to push myself to do things that made me happy once upon a time. To try and rekindle the flame. These posts may be boring and somewhat depressing, but they are my life and thoughts (and I will say that my passion is deteriorating faster than it is recuperating). However, those things may change, sooner or later. It's worth a try, yes?

    Life has been better or worse. I can't really say that everything is the way I would like it to be, but I think that things are the way they are should be. I dream of having a real relationship, a few new friendships, and the renewing of a few old bonds. I often think of what it would be like to be independent, to have my own place, to live where there is always something to do. Those are all I think about. I see the blessings in everyone else's life, and I get a bit jealous. I question myself, my morals, my attitude. Why haven't I seen any progress? What am I doing (or not doing)? It's not that I am not happy for those who have what they want. I just want to know where is mine? I've waited. I don't see myself as undeserving. I'm different from the norm, I'll admit, but that's not bad, is it?" 

    

 This is me years ago, and honestly, while I have grown, little has changed. I have graduated from college (finally), and gotten promoted to full time Visual Merchandiser at my job. As exciting as it seems, it can stand some improvement, being that it is a job with a fancier title. However, I have been able to afford my own place to live and get out a little more. I have realized that I am more of a homebody, still. Now, I am hoping I don't get so stuck in one place like most people do. I still dream, just not as often, because I don't have as much time. It is just not how I hoped it would be, but nothing ever is. Surprising? No. It's okay, though.

Excuses/Things I Think

Reasons why I haven't been writing:1) it feels more like a chore than a hobby, 2)work and school has my time more than anything, and 3)I just hate how my life is right now. I know, those are lame excuses. However, I feel the only content I have to offer is negative and depressing. It is like I am numb to life. I have no feeling whatsoever. I have not "lived" since I've entered high school. I hate that other people are happy and I am not. I just hate more than I like right now. I am tired of hearing things like, "Everything is going to be okay". "Just keep going". "You're not missing anything". I hate to be so cynical (see the hate there?), but I am not feeling so hopeful. I feel...over it. BEYOND over it. I do not even care about school anymore, given that I would probably burn the whole university down for what it has put me through had I different morals. I now understand why people "lose their mental". It's the pressure. Loss of feeling and life. Not saying I will actually go to a mall and shoot up the place, but I will give everyone the Stare Of Death, or even the Silence of Evil. Cheesy, I know. At least I am writing.

Watching Golden Girls makes me feel a little better. Cartoons and a bowl of ice cream are a go-to as well. However, outside of that, what else is there? And I can not help but to think that I am nobody. I have always been someone of little status. Someone once told me that I matter when it counts, and that should be enough. However, it is not. I hate not being seen at all. Why can't I get a little attention at least once in a while? I also see myself attracting men I would never consider dating. One would tell me that in a way, I am attracting people who are like me, and I would disagree. However, I would say that I am attracting people who I feel are the only ones who would consider dating me. And it has nothing to do with looks. It is just that men know I am very nice and considerate, and they probably mistake that for interest in something other than just being a nice person. I never gave off that feeling of interest, but it seems as though I have or they probably don't care if I had or not. I always hear things like "You're different". " I like how nice you are. You're not like these other girls." That's all nice and whatever, but just because I am your ideal girl, does not mean that I am obligated to date you. Let me be the one to decide. Don't tell me I am missing out on a good man when you have yet to show what makes you a good man. If you're all talk, that is not enough. You can say you would take me places, do things for me, etc. But I want to see what you have to offer long-term. I want to be inspired by a man. Driven by a man (not via auto, but by his ambition).  I want him to make me want to experience life differently. I want him to love me while I work on myself (basically, I want him to accept my flaws). So to all the men out there, Don't just run your mouth. Like the old saying goes, "An empty wagon makes a lot of noise" (it was a wagon, right?). Show me. You say you're a physical being. Well, in this case, so am I.  

The Post That Almost Didn't Happen

     It's been a long time. Just started writing again (in general). My drive and passion has been deteriorating faster than it has recuperated. That's fine. That's when the title comes in. Why I am losing interest in the things that once made me happy is a question I have yet to answer.

     I've witnessed the growth and happiness of people around me. These happy moments have slowly installed a little bit of jealousy and bitterness within me. Has me sitting in my room, deep in a sea of poisonous thoughts. Thoughts that led to tears, then to long, unhealthy naps late in the evening. Thoughts that led to phone calls I regret. I never wanted to be the last one standing. I thought those days were over. I thought that eventually, I'd be there. It's good there is still "eventually". I just wish my schedule was on the same page with reality.

     The changes I've recently decided to make are slowly in effect. Will they cause some kind of change in my life, we shall see. But, writing will forever be something for me. It may not be as creative as I'd like it to be, but it's a start for whatever. Don't know where it will take me, but at least I've tried.

A Not-So-Perfect Entry.

I want to codify my feelings. Contrive a better plan for my life. However, my dilatory being refuses to exit its comfort zone. I end up suffering dispraise and direful consequences, which I have been used to for the last 4 1/2 years. My loss of frolicsome has made me realize how unaware I was of society. The mirey society. I began my independent life with such officiousness and ended up feeling the torture of life. Like I have declined from prize to pine, seeing that nothing has changed for the better, but for worse. I used to demand primacy, even when it was evident that I wasn't as pugilistic as others in the same shoes. My reproach was to my disability and then to myself, when I decided to just accept that it was me. People pushed to spruce me, but after being in this state of gloom since the days of middle school, it has become extremely hard for me to be spry. I continue to supersede what is most important. To seek help and happiness.
 It's like there have been a torrent of feelings, words, and emotions forming a mental hurricane, getting bigger and bigger. Feeling as though I don't belong anywhere, like a vagabond to life. I used to be vociferous about my feelings, my life in vexation. I look at my past with the look of aversion, wishing things never happened, but highly appreciating that they did. I tend to be amiable and concerned, seeing that someone knows that someone knows. That there are still burly beings out there.

I try to cultivate my talents, whatever they may be. For now, I'm not so sure. I attempt to distend my knowledge with words and art. I think it calms me down when in a hectic mood. I want to exhume my love for art through words. Be a fashion writer or editor. When I look at art- fashion in particular- it is with great fervor. My hunger for it is indelible. I look to fashion with such laud and admiration that makes me feel sumptuous. At least, temporarily. My vehement desire and love for one's expression through style has excelled to great measures over the years. When I look into street style, I see impeccably pristine taste in style and expression. It gives me a sense of happiness and assurance. A sigh of relief.  

                                               

                                                 

Follow my blog with Bloglovin