Falling apart

I have not been writing as often as I used to, and would like to recently. And whenever I’m not able to write, it kind of sucks. I’m a lot of things, good and bad, but mostly bad. But the one thing I always liked about myself is that I can write pretty well. I am quite literal, or at least was once. Upon opening up this wordpress page trying to write something after a long ass hiatus, I couldn’t seem to recognize my writing in my last post. Every word seemed so strange that I had to google them to see if it was really my writing or I copied those words from some random article on the Internet for reference. Turned out it was really me. I was talking about my last post “The art of disappearing” that I have just published. Anyway, I’m not here to write about my writing journey.

Well, there’s this one thing I came to realize that I always seemed to be doing since I was young, is falling apart.  This may sound like a strange thing, and sad, but it’s true, at least to myself.

I remember the first time that I felt so bad that I wanted to quit reality was when I was in 8th grade. I dreaded school so bad I stayed at home for days and never wanted to leave my room. I felt mentally and physically sick. I hated half of my middle school years althought I was in the best classes in the best schools, which is rather common for people I guess. How often do teens like going to school at that age? Or is it just me? Of course I didn’t know what I was feeling at that time, or had a name for the situation that I was at that time in life. Internet-based mental diagnosis was pretty much non-existent at that time. They have a lot of acronyms today to define and explain a course of negative feelings and actions. And all sorts of disorders that somehow I think I have them all.

*Note to self: mental disorders are not pokemons, you can’t catch ’em all. Or can you?

Anyway, I didn’t know how I got through that period of time in those early teenage years, but it was certainly very dark.

Growing up, I had fallen in a lot of mental shit holes. I forgot most of them, but I’m sure I had. I’ve done many things wrong,  disappointed and hurt quite a number of people including myself.

At this point of my life, I don’t blame anyone but myself. I’ve locked myself up for months now, distancing myself from the outside world. It may seem to be the unhealthy way to overcome something, but I hope it will hopefully, magically somehow slow my restless self down and I’ll be able to reflect and have the courage to continue living this life.

After admitting that I’ve been falling apart, I hope I’ll have the courage to… I don’t know, continue living with a positive mindset. Although it seems to be hard at this point, I hope I’ll manage to find some magical way to toughen up. The thing with falling apart (and falling down?) is that one will stand up to continue walking. I hope I’ll be able to do that. I want to tell myself that I have to, I really do. And I really wish I will.

*Jay Chou’s “One the run” album is playing on my Spotify, and his music is so therapeutic it kind of calms me down, which is a very good things. The thing with songs in a strange language is that I don’t have to mind what the lyrics say, and Jay’s melodies are either soft or uplifting in the album that I’m listening to. US/UK and K-pop songs these days are nowhere comparable to C-pop  in this sense I guess. Chinese is a complex language that enables expressing layers and layers of feelings effortlessly. I think Japanese is the same.

On that note, I think English is my preferred language to express myself emotionally although I think Vietnamese is an extremely loving language. Wait, where is this post is heading to?

6290do9

Should I have a series of posts called “A life of a depressed person” which documents the journey that I’m currently in? If it is in video form, the footage would be the most boring and depressing thing one has to watch with one-sided convos like:

  • It’s night time, I can’t sleep and I have to find ways to distract myself from biting myself to think about every wrong thing in my life.
  • It’s morning time and I can’t wake up, what are there to wake up to? My life is doomed and I hope the world ends today.

Haha. Not funny at all.

But seriously, hope I’m all well and have the necessary mental strength to keep moving forward. It should be acknowledged that today I managed to talk to someone I always seem to find comfort in, and that I’ve done the two things I used to enjoyed doing very much: writing and listening to music, simultaneously.

It is a good sign I hope, to be able to do 3 things I used to like doing.

Especially when battling this difficult period in life…

Oh and self-admitting that I was falling apart. And maybe it’s time to get better?

I don’t know.

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