Hot Cocoa with Marshmallows

Its a warm feeling


Something I found tonight and realized, from these past few months, I had lost myself. I tried reflecting about it, but never really came to any solid framework of my current life. Fortunately, as I was browsing through my folders list to save yet another depression poem, I decided to go through one of the two folders that have kept frameworks of my mind in. Needless to say, I fell in love, again. My dearest love of writing and the miracles of God as he lifted me from my dark void, how amazing the feeling I had felt once I came out of it, and the things I could do and the miracle of being able to be driven and to feel motivation, even. Well, I am also very proud of how brave and confident I was before I fell again today and the entire university life I so hard tried to survive in, let alone living in. Reading my own essays from about a year ago, time really does change people, but the quality of people affects you the most, never mind the sheer mass of them.

If I from a year ago was here, she would have flipped them off and throw her hair back, leaving people inflamed or gawking in admiration for my courage. I now wish I could feel it again, but after reading that essay, my heart is empty and desolated, reaching my hands out to feel only air. This absented feeling is very unsettling, but I know, it will be replaced as soon as I get my bearings and priorities back again.

I used to have so much vigour and vivacity in my words, but it seems I have really dampened and, if I am lucky enough, my old self is just in a coma, time would be all I have to get out of my wet clothes and change into something more snugly and warm.

Anyway, I am still tittering between my post-reading feels and zombie-dead mind. My emotions are all over the place and I have not been able to pluck and sort them into categories but since this dawned on me, I think I should definitely start to re-evaluate my mind, be my own therapist and ask questions that can lead me to answers only I can commit.

Regardless of how much time I had made you wasted on reading about my OPINIONSSSSSS, I hereby present to you, a little part of my mind, in words.

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The thing about ADHD is that your mind is all over the place, your concentration is everywhere, your eyes are everywhere and your heart is everywhere.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” my best friend Cat asks.

“Nah.” I reply.

I had been going through a lot since a while ago, but never as messed up as I am now.

It is like I am in an endless spiral, suspending me and limiting me from touching anything, even myself. To pinch yourself to check you are real is almost impossible especially when your fingers feel nothing when you try to touch your face or slap yourself across the cheek.

I have been like this and usually, I would ball myself up and rock back and forth in the corner of my room, beside my bed. It scares me because of the possibilities of hurting myself until I can feel something is horrible. Too many times I have stared at the penknife or butter knife and thought about poking myself with it. Seeing blood would mean I would feel pain as well.

Over the course of the years, my nails have always been short and never ever-growing out a .5mm, ever. Even the skin on the side of the nail has been chewed up or there is always a red mark from a closed up wound to remind me that pain has been felt, but quickly forgotten.

The things I see now when I could reminisce about in my future would be that they are all in grayscale and blurry. The sounds that I hear daily are just white noise over my head and never really processed to be heard and responded to. Those are the days when I look over to nowhere beside me and feel like I am looking, that I did the action. When I think I have stood up and went to do something and go to another place to do something else but in fact, I have always been sitting at the same place just ‘thinking’ about it. To think I have accomplished something but I am brought back to the seat I was at, looking into the TV screen that is my wants.

The hero in that show on TV is me, and the antagonist is the cable, connected to the socket behind the TV. People say there are no heroes but ourselves, and the moment we pull that cable out, there will be no hero or villain, but ourselves. Heroes are thus not because they have helped someone but that we want to be them, and when there is something we want, there will be something we don’t.

Hence, I have always kept both far, far away from me. Which led me to be a bland person with the grayest of personalities. I wanted neither because if I wanted to become that hero, I had to face that undefeatable villain.

If I knew better words and exposed to more describable and colorful ways in expressing, I would have been as famous as John Green.

Alas, our education system could not provide me the necessary bucket and flowers to become the hero that I wanted.

Thus, I would compensate that with reading, a lot. All kinds. Novel, biographies, Webtoons, manga, comics, magazines, newspapers, even brochures I would stop and browse through it. I do this because it is within the gray-area, between the hero and villain, not really the civilian because they are sentient and are purposeful. No. I am in-between. Unable to crossover the boundaries of incompetence and hope.

I make no sense and I make sense. That is pretty much how my mind plays out each day. My mind acts and directs the hero to save the day but it also whispers and conspires with my body that the villain is out there and nothing can stop it from destroying the world. Which are my mind and my whole existence.

I wanted to write stories and build plots and worlds out of my more or less sane mind. With a style, I have  from the books . I wanted to write because of my belief in that everyone has an interesting story to tell, and that I also have a story that there will be people who are interested in reading, even if the people around would be too afraid or ashamed or would even go to the length of disowning me. There will still be people who are bound to look me in the eye and say, “I feel you.” Yet there also exist those who may laugh and might even drive me into insanity for being honest and telling the stories that are borne from my essence of existence in this world.

So, to open up and let both good and evil get a good glimpse of you, whether you will be able to meet like-minded people and respect you for you, or risk being chastised and hated forever, most probably. Yet also most improbable, unless you don’t do any of that. To not write, to keep your opinions to yourself, to not break up an argument between ideas and opinions.

To just stay in the in-between, the balanced (but there is no balance, really), the gray area that no one really likes to go there because you will be invisible and your existence in the world would be questionable and laughable, especially by your family. You are given the right of walking among others, to breathe the air other’s exhale, to eat and live in a society that does as well, and yet you decide to forlorn your existence to be in the gray area.

Nobody dares to venture and decide to set up a home there because they will be forgotten and not cared about in this world of human communication. People say we are pack animals and would need to be with another to live. But I think we are different, we can be both a lion and a wolf. There are people that would really prefer to be alone and not ever needing another person’s company and would still be respected. They can have a pet as a company but would not really need another being to constantly budge and complement their existence by screaming to the world that “this person is here and breathing and loves to eat egg-plants and have pineapples on his pizza!”

They do not need that. They can work as a normal employee, get a bonus without sucking up to their employers, even when the job requires them to talk and interact with humans, no one said that an introvert cannot make small talk and impress someone at the same time. It is just that they would not need another existence involved with their existence unless that is a ghost and would not give you an option or choice of co-inhabitants because they would either stick to you like glue and never be out of your sight because their own existence is as questionable as yours.