my toxic trait is that once someone has let me down…
i immediately run to someone else.
i don’t have anyone else to run to.
my toxic trait is that once someone has let me down…
i immediately run to someone else.
i don’t have anyone else to run to.
i told you not to let people in.
i warned you that this would happen.
now look at you.
you’re a mess because you let them in.
you knew that this would happen
and you convinced yourself that you would have been okay if this happened,
you continue to tell yourself these lies.
you continue to be dense.
you continue to let people in,
and get hurt in the end.
so whose fault is it really?
now all the good memories are tainted.
all the happiness is smeared with your tears.
all the lies are bubbling up under the surface.
how many times do i have to repeat this until you can hear me?
until you listen to me?
how many more heartbreaks,
how many more tears,
how much more… will it take?
they’re picking out pieces of your heart and you can only hold so much.
you can only try so much until it’s a one-sided relationship.
you can only care so much about someone until it breaks you.
you can only love so much until you’re lost.
you should’ve left with the first lie,
with the first doubt.
you should have just walked away.
instead of giving them the benefit of the doubt.
you should have treated them like they did you.
you should have listened to your gut,
should have listened to me.
maybe they gave you some happiness,
but they gave you more pain.
and now you can add them to the list.
of the ones that did you wrong.
and you can keep adding and adding….
keep crying and crying…
fresh tears or are they the same ones from before? just in a different setting.
and when each new person gets added, do you cry only about them? or about everyone from your past? and everyone who’s done you wrong?
are you keeping score?
keeping track of all the souls that have crushed your heart?
or have you become numb?
you can keep telling yourself this is a new lesson,
a new experience,
when you know every hit hurts you to the core.
do you think this is only affecting you?
do you think it only hurts you?
it hurts me too.
to see you like this,
to watch you burn.
you don’t deserve this.
you’ve fought to get past this and somehow you always come back around.
because you never learn.
do you want this to happen again?
so take my advice,
and listen to me the next time you try to let someone in.
–the voice in my head.
we thought that we would be together forever,
and for a moment we thought that we would be.
but that was just a mere moment.
and in the blink of an eye,
we are not us and everything is not the same.
the pictures and videos all seem to hold onto lies and false depictions.
maybe it was what we had in the moment, so we took it.
not caring what would happen.
maybe you weren’t in this as much as i was.
maybe it meant nothing to you.
we were just kids,
what did we know about the world?
forever was an exaggeration.
it was childish.
it was a way to cope so we wouldn’t have to say goodbye.
and maybe you’ve moved on,
and i guess i have too…
until i’m looking at your face and see the beautiful memories etched onto them.
what happened to us?
how did something beautiful end so tragically?
i don’t call you up,
you don’t come around,
things we promised we would do.
keep in touch,
never give up on us.
we broke the one thing we told each other we would do?
you called me half-hearted,
i stopped answering your texts.
a simple misunderstanding between us,
and you didn’t wish me a happy birthday.
you have other priorities in your life,
and in your pursuit of them,
you’ve hurt me along the way.
and now i find it hard to look at the pictures without falling apart.
because we were so happy together,
and i’m happy,
with other people.
and you probably are too,
with different people.
maybe it wasn’t meant to be and it wasn’t written in the stars.
maybe it wasn’t what i thought it was.
who we were seems like a lie.
what did i even know about myself back then.
what did you?
maybe this is who we are,
and who we are doesn’t include each other.
it’s not written in the cards.
the distance was not something we overcame,
it showed our true colors.
the distance was our test,
and we failed.
my immigrant arm hair,
what do all these things have in common?
they are parts of my body that I used to not be very fond of.
I wouldn’t say that I hated them,
they just weren’t my favorite feature.
Let’s start with my immigrant arm hair,
LOL that’s not the official name for it I don’t think, but yes I am a brown girl with A LOT of arm hair. You could probably see it from a mile away or something.
I was very insecure about my arm hair and also I have like slight knuckle hair that also grossed me out. It was horrible. I hated it about me especially during middle school because I think that’s when you notice all these things about you, about your body and also puberty, hey what’s up.
And it was something I didn’t like because I would look at the other girls in my class and NONE, (yes, a bold none) NO ONE had it as severe as I did. And even if someone had slight hair, it wasn’t as noticeable as mine. Even if someone did have arm hair, no one had knuckle hair like I did. Which was embarrassing. Can you imagine being the only brown skin girl with hair everywhere?!? It literally felt like everyone knew about this insecurity and commented it about me. Even though everyone probably had better things to do than to comment on my immigrant hair, but it was the only thing I could think about. I was different.
So when I started shaving… I didn’t only shave my legs.
Yep, that’s right. I shaved my arms. It was horrendous. And just so you know, no, no one thought to tell me that shaving caused the hair to grow more and also come back darker.
So I shaved every place I was insecure about, my arms, my knuckles, everywhere that was visible from my school uniform.
And I nicked myself.
Trust me, that isn’t the worst part.
I nicked myself and put bandages everywhere… and thought it was C O O L. nO ReBEccA why?!?
So I would walk into school with my short sleeved polo shirt. And I had like 3 bandages on my left arm and like 2 on my right arm……………………………………………..
Sorry I just took a pause to relieve that cringey memory.
Oh my gosh how could I possibly do that?
Because it was an insecurity. I had built up this insecurity in my head. Convinced myself that everyone was concerned with it and dealt with it… in the wrong way.
Now, let’s talk about my curls/waves.
My curly/wavy hair wasn’t something I hated. I just didn’t know really how to style it. Where my parents are from in India, it’s really common to have curly/wavy hair. But the way my family members took care of it wasn’t really how you should take care of curls. Because the accepted standard for hair (at least where I’m from) would have been nice, straight hair. Not curly ringlets that stick from your head and look like noodles. (Maggi noodles to be specific, if you’re brown, you’ll get what I mean)
So my family members would brush my hair when it wasn’t wet. Which is like a huge no for curly hair. It breaks the hair and also makes the hair have a weird blown out look that IS NOT cute.
So that was my look for most of elementary school and I didn’t like it. So when I got a hair straightener in 5th grade, you KNOW I used that thing religiously. I used it like every day since I got it. You can probably see any picture from 5th grade and you’ll see nothing but straight hair.
Oh and another thing.
I didn’t have heat protectant. (internally sighs)
Honestly, it’s hard to believe my hair isn’t shriveling at this point. Although, I had really bad split ends the first couple months of quarantine.
Like I said before, it’s not that I hated my real hair type. I just didn’t know how to style it. My dad also put the thought in me that if I didn’t immediately blow dry my hair after a shower, I would get sick. And I didn’t know until a couple of years ago that that fact was NOT true.
So in 7th grade, I don’t even know how it happened but I somehow found a way to wear my curls. I think it was because near the end of 6th grade, our class went to like an amusement park as a class trip and there were pools of course. My friends all saw my wet hair for once and they all commented how pretty my actual hair was and I was like “What really? Someone take a picture.” LOL idk how I didn’t know what my wet hair looked liked at that point in my life. But my friend’s mom took a picture and I realized my wet hair looked GOOD. Maybe my dry hair could also look this good?
So in 7th grade I somehow figured it out. I think that’s when I still blow dried my hair but I started braiding it afterwards and left it braided for 24 hours so that the heat I just applied didn’t mess up the curls.
And I somehow figured it out. I remember someone pointing it out to me and they asked me if it was my actual hair and they asked me what I did with it and I was like huh? How did I get it like this? Lol, but I have figured out my hair’s likes and dislikes. I’ve figured out what works best for me and hardly add any heat any more.
I’ve straightened it like 3 times in the past 10 months. But that’s partly due to quarantine.
But my hair, my real hair, has become my most favorite feature. I love my curls/waves a lot.
I think this was like a half insecurity. It wasn’t the fact that I disliked it. It was just that I didn’t know how to maintain it and built up this phoney ideal of beauty which was straight hair.
Finally, my nose.
Now this is an insecurity I didn’t even see for myself. But one of my “friends” saw.
My nose was never something I noticed that I disliked, until senior year of high school when I met this so called friend.
She pointed out my “big ass” nose.
At first, it didn’t really hurt. Because I just thought oh it’s just a joke that’s what friends do, we’re just starting to get to know each other. And I honestly didn’t even believe my nose was big. It was just my nose.
Until… she kept repeating it and mentioning it.
To the point where I looked in the mirror, looked at pictures and started seeing that big nose. And I grew insecure about it.
Thankfully, I didn’t do anything about it like the arm hair (thank goodness). But it was a weight that weighed on me for a little while.
Thankfully, I didn’t believe this insecurity for long and I was able to get rid of it.
But it’s not that easy.
And like this post explained, insecurities don’t always start out the same way.
For my arm hair, after all the horrendous experimentation, I realized that I couldn’t always shave my arm hair every week, or every other day since my hair grows back so fast. It was gonna keep growing and growing gradually. I couldn’t stop it… unless I wanted laser hair removal and how was 6th grade me even gonna get laser hair removal?! I had to learn to accept it. And honestly, once I did, I appreciated it. I call it my immigrant arm hair because it reminds me where I come from. It’s a joke I tell with another one of my friends who also has it. I barely notice my knuckle hair anymore, I had to like pull that insecurity from the depth of my brain because I really don’t notice it anymore. Honestly, all the rings I wear distracts me from them. And really if a person is disgusted by it, WHY would I even want a shallow person like that in my life?
For my hair, I found ways to embrace my actual hair. I also (finally) got heat protectant and stopped using my hair straightener so much. And I figured out that I actually like my hair curly/wavy wayyyyy more than I do straightened.
For my nose, I realized I really didn’t even have a big nose. I don’t even think it would be on that scale. And even if it was on that scale, so what? It’s a part of me and shows where I come from and who I am. Just because someone else, one person, saw it this way doesn’t mean it’s true. And it definitely doesn’t mean it’s something I have to be insecure about.
It’s weird how all 3 of these things I was insecure was different kinds of insecurity. The first one was an insecurity I built myself, the 2nd was an insecurity I had because I didn’t know enough about that feature and how to take care of it in the right way, the 3rd was an insecurity someone else reflected on me… and I believed them.
Like I said before, insecurities are hard to get rid of. It wasn’t until I started growing that I realized “this is the way I was made.” I couldn’t shave my arm hair forever, I couldn’t straighten my hair forever, I couldn’t do anything about my nose. And along the way, as you get older you realize, that without these things, you wouldn’t be you. You grow to love these things about you.
That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get rid of your insecurities if you want to. You can get a nose job or laser hair removal, etc. Do whatever makes you happy.
I’m just saying insecurities can become secure at some point. You won’t always look at something on your body and infinitely hate it. You might scratch, shave, or try to rip it off… and realize you ultimately can’t. You’ll try to alter it, cover it, avoid it but it’ll still be in the back of your brain. “Can they see it? Are they thinking about it?” If a person is that shallow to point out useless flaws… why are you including them in your life?
It’s like this one time I was listening to a youtuber defend why she doesn’t have a luxurious car. She said her car is how she sort of sees which people she’ll include in her life. If someone is so shallow that they wouldn’t travel in something that isn’t a tesla or something, why is she hanging out with that person? There are other people who would be fine not traveling in something new and shiny. Same thing goes with your insecurities.
True people will find beauty in your features. They won’t make fun of them or point them out.
The funny thing is, I even asked people if I did in fact, have a big nose. Everyone I asked either responded with “What?!?” or they were shocked and denied it. Isn’t it weird how my big nose was only seen by one person and no one else?
It could have been 1 person, it could have been thousands who mentioned it. It doesn’t matter. It’s your body, it’s you. Not them. If you love it about yourself, if you didn’t mind it before anyone said anything why are you letting minimal people decide what you should do with yourself?
Honestly, our bodies are so beautiful and unique, it’s unnecessary to think about the little things that “seem” impure to you. Imagine if you had a huge play box of sand. If there was one speck of dirt in that sand box, would it make it less worthy of being played in or stepped into? No. It’s a speck of dirt, you hardly notice it.
Your body is so much more than your insecurities. Your beauty and worth is so much more than your insecurities.
As you love yourself even more within each day, you’ll even stop paying attention to all the flaws, like how you can forget that you can see your nose in front of your face (sorry).
With time, impurities will become pure. Just give it time and see beyond what’s on your skin and focus more on what’s in your heart.
honestly when i picture myself walking on this path called “my life,” i feel like i’ve been standing at a stop sign for weeks.
it feels like there’s a boulder or something huge blocking my path so i can’t even see where my path leads.
and rain and thunder and lightning is coming down… and all i’m doing is just standing still.
it feels like i haven’t moved in forever.
maybe it’s because i don’t know how to get around this obstacle in the road…
or i’m just too scared to.
because i’m scared of what’s ahead,
i’m scared of what i can’t see,
i’m scared of the boulder blocking my path so i can’t sneak a peek.
and that’s the part that sucks.
i can’t cheat my way around this boulder. i need to confront it. i can’t go backwards. because if i look backwards, the path has disappeared behind me.
all i have is the place i stand and the path in front of me.
what’s behind me is already done.
i need to face this boulder. i need to face me. i need to face my future.
but it’s scary.
but at the same time, i haven’t moved for ages.
i’ve let this boulder block my path, let it consume my mind, for all this time.
the boulder is in my mind, it’s blocking the sun, it’s blocking my happiness.
i can’t see beyond the boulder because i’m too scared to move.
i’m confortable where i am.
but i’m not happy.
what if what’s before me is a volcano or quicksand, or worse, more boulders…
more things i’m unsure of.
but what if what’s before me is a calming beach or a valley of flowers with the wind blowing in my hair?
what if it’s something grand?
something to… dare i say it…
give me hope?
what if it’s something beautiful?
maybe it’s the beauty of life, to not know. maybe it’s a curse.
maybe standing here too long will let the boulder crush me.
what happens then?
will i never get to see what’s beyond it?
and what about me not being able to move?
what if i really can move, and the thought of my feet sticking to the ground was just a defense mechanism.
what if fear is my weakness?
what if it’s preventing a good future?
or what if it’s saving me from a bad one?
can i really move this boulder?
but what if i can’t?
what if i fail?
what happens then?
will i be able to live with myself afterward?
will i be happy?
and what happens if i move the boulder,
and find nothing on the other end?
what if i come so far just to keep walking and walking and walking, hoping to find some grand prize at the end of a tunnel,
and no such prize might even exist,
it might just lead me to a dark tunnel,
hopelessly wandering for days,
holding onto a small piece of “maybe there’s something here” “maybe i’m close”
but what if i am,
never close at all?
what if i chose the wrong path from the get go and this is just improvisation.
what if this was never my path?
is this boulder the final level?
or the origin story?
i wish i knew,
but at the same time i don’t.
did you ever want something,
but not want it at the same time?
i would want to know my future,
but at the same time, it would be detrimental knowing too much.
so here i am…
instead of facing my obstacles,
i’m contemplating and going over the complexity of life and psychological turmoil that confronting this boulder will bring…
instead of seeing for myself.
because seeing for myself, hasn’t always played out well for me.
and i’m here, in this moment, in this space in time,
knowing too much about time and space and the inner workings of the mind, realizing that all i have is this moment and this future in my hands,
and i don’t know what to do with it.
do i run into the unknown?
or do i just keep staying still, comfortable with my misery and never truly knowing what’s in store for me…
and you always have to learn this lesson for yourself.
Even if I’m the first person to tell you “Not everyone you trust can be trusted,” and you think “That could never happen.”
It’s probably going to happen in the future or it’s already happened.
Even I was ignorant the first few times.
When I was 17, I had a number of friends that I had just met and I thought I could trust… well… all of them.
Writing that out seems ridiculous now.
I was just so excited to have a new circle of friends and it was new for me. I was under the guise that I could trust every one of them.
I told them my secrets, I shared my scars, I shared most of me, if not all. You see, I was the type of person who thought that sharing your secrets made people like you (aka I’m Chandler Bing) but also telling someone secrets was how I thought you got close to someone. Sharing secrets just felt easier. Suddenly all of them knew secrets about my life in less than a couple of months of knowing them.
And it was a wrong choice.
Because before I knew it, one person proved to be against me…
Suddenly the people I trusted used my words, my secrets, against me and to their advantage. They used my emotions, my feelings, every piece of me… They didn’t care about me, they just cared about their own selfish gain.
It hurt… to say the least. And I’m a person who needs people to heal that hurt. If there are people around me, I will cling onto them for support. I don’t like keeping all my emotions bottled inside. So I didn’t pull away. I trusted the people still around me even more to be there for my hurt and listen to my heartbreak.
There were loyal people within this circle… but there were also distrustful people that hid behind a smile.
And I took the bait.
I wanted to believe no one else could do me wrong, especially after all that happened. They wouldn’t dare… right?
And what’s worse is it took me a couple of years to realize what was happening behind the scenes. By the time I realized, I had already shared a lot of myself, I had given them every single piece, or at least all the pieces that mattered.
I believed that I could trust them, undoubtedly… and they proved me wrong.
I think I just used to be one of those people who wanted to see the good in people who seemed nice. And at the same time, I was just truly excited to have new friends that the lines blurred. I wanted to believe that after years of pain, these were friends that the universe was rewarding me with. As if the universe owed me anything.
I’m not saying this to sound ungrateful, I mean in that time period I did find some of my best, most closest friends and I wouldn’t take that back for anything. But at the same time, the other people, instead of being friends… they were lessons.
They were the constant lesson of: not everyone you trust, can be trusted.
And no matter how nice, how good, how much your share about yourself, how much you think you deserve it for getting the bad end of the stick for what seems like forever,,, no matter what, not everyone can be trusted.
And I’ve experienced all kinds of this lesson.
The new friend who you think will be a good friend. You’re slowly sharing and they show that they care… but before you know it, they were just using you for their own gain.
The friend you’ve known for a while. A year or two, maybe a couple of months. You think you’ve figured them out. But nope. They have a completely different mask and turns out they were just lying to your face and misusing your honesty.
The friends who seem nice and chill about everything. But really, they’re shady as hell and just want the tea. So they go back behind your back and talk shit about you to someone else.
I could go on and on about the different types that I’ve experienced but I won’t.
I just wanted to say if you’re going through this right now, I know it sucks. So bad.
I know you want to paint them as the enemy and the bad guy and maybe they are. Maybe they aren’t.
I honestly don’t think they’re doing this on purpose. And I know that sounds ridiculous. Trust me, I know. But I don’t think each time that this has happened, I don’t think that their intention was to hurt me. If it was, then I never would’ve called them a friend.
I just think that there were moments when they wanted to be selfish and better their lives at the risk of hurting someone else. Basically, selfish gain in easier terms. They hurt someone else to be happy. Or there were moments when they really didn’t see any problem sharing what I had told them in confidence. Although, that one is hard finding a silver lining.
I don’t know, life is hard. But that shouldn’t justify treating someone else like crap and misusing their trust.
I don’t want to find excuses for their distrust but at the same time, I don’t think their actions were intentional. Like I don’t think the first day they met me they thought, “Yes, I will make her pretend we have a friendship and that she can trust me so I can misuse it.” I just think circumstances and different things get in the way and are interconnected with everything.
I don’t think anyone has ever been purposefully distrustful to me out of spite. They just wanted something else or from their point of view, it wasn’t distrustful.
As human beings, we are just trying to look out for ourselves and trying to make ourselves happy. I think sometimes, that may mean bringing someone down, in all honesty. It might mean lying to them or not telling them something they won’t like to hear, etc.
Some people might not see the big deal in being dishonest and some people just overthink “How could they do this?” constantly (Me being the latter)
And it does hurt being a very nice person who also feels a lot and overthinks a lot and values all of their relationships no matter what. That’s like the worst combination. But that’s just who I am. And I’ve had to learn that not everybody I trust can be trusted.
And learning that lesson a few times over… I can tell you, it does mess with your head a lot. Now, I find it hard to trust at the get go. It takes me a lot of time to decide whether a person will be in my life or not. Most times I even doubt a lot whether a person who I’ve known a long time will suddenly drop me, because that feeling of fear is still instilled in me. Those days of the hurt of figuring out someone doesn’t care for me the way I do for them, are honestly not that far. I could feel it like it was just yesterday. The wounds are still fresh. I overthink every word, every look, every thing.
I’m careful, yet it still happens.
I’m intuitive, still happens.
I think I say and do the right things, still happens.
I don’t think that this is a lesson that is easily over and done with. Sometimes this lesson comes out of the situations you won’t even expect.
So what should we do?
At this point, I have accepted that I am an honest person and no matter what, people are going to take advantage of that.
It’s something out of my control.
It’s something out of your control.
I wish I knew why people did the things they did and do. But I couldn’t tell you.
What I do know is, being honest takes a weight off my shoulders. Being up front with someone about your intentions will always be the better choice in the end.
Even if you hurt the person… the honest truth is better than cheap lies and fake masks.
I don’t know how to enjoy a break without feeling guilty.
I think this started maybe the summer after my sophomore year. I didn’t know how to enjoy long breaks anymore. I went from a kid who loved having free summer days available to relax and play on the computer. To a teenager who felt guilty for watching shows, movies and playing video games.
And ever since that shift happened, I haven’t really enjoyed a break. I remember telling people in high school that I don’t like long breaks. Because either I don’t know what to do or I feel guilty over whatever I’m doing if it doesn’t have to do with academics or work.
I just feel like I should feel guilty for not using my time wisely during summer breaks or winter breaks.
I should be doing something more… working, studying, something that isn’t enjoying myself.
And I don’t know why I feel guilty indulging in things I wasn’t able to do during the semester, like having a movie marathon or playing some game for hours.
I don’t know, maybe it has to do with my anxiety. I don’t know how to enjoy these holiday breaks anymore without getting a gnawing feeling that I’m wasting my time and my days by not doing something productive.
But at the same time… I simply… deserve this. I deserve a break for all the hard work I put in for the last year.
I’ve been studying/working nonstop since spring semester of 2020. Except for maybe a week long break in the middle. I took two summer classes back to back and then immediately went into the fall semester and also started working as a tutor.
So this is the first real break I’ve had in a long time and… I don’t know how to enjoy it.
How can you be happy relaxing? For days on end. I understand if it was a weekend but if it’s a whole month break, (we have a month break in between the fall and spring semester) I don’t know.
But like I said before, I do deserve this, I’ve been working non stop and achieved so many things. Why can’t I allow myself to indulge and relax for a while? Why do I have to feel like I shouldn’t be enjoying by watching movies or watching youtube… etc.
Why has that guilty feeling been slowly built into me?
I think when this feeling first began, I hated breaks because I really didn’t have much to do during them. I didn’t really have many friends back in the days so I didn’t have any place to go and that just made me sad and made me hate breaks. Then I found a friend group and went everywhere with them but that relationship I had with breaks didn’t go away. I didn’t hate it anymore I just… didn’t feel like I could enjoy them anymore.
And I don’t really enjoy them anymore. I just feel… bent and tired all the time. I scold myself for staying up late and force myself to wake up early in the morning so I don’t feel useless… and it’s very toxic for me to do this to myself.
Because I do deserve this break. I deserve to eat whatever I want and watch whatever I want because I’ve made it this far and I should be proud of myself and I should allow myself to enjoy with happiness instead of putting myself down for wanting to enjoy the moment.
It also is a bit hard because of quarantine and I don’t have school to distract me from all the thoughts in my head. So there are other reasons why this break is not very enjoyable.
But I don’t know… it’s a weird feeling to know you deserve something but can’t seem to enjoy it. Does anyone else feel like this?
This concept has changed meanings throughout the years.
What do you think of when you say/hear/see social media?
I got my first social media account when I was in 6th grade. It was a Twitter account. I remember one of my friends at the time was really siked about hers cause she had so many followers and it was easy to get them because she just followed back everyone who followed her. She was also a directioner so she was able to follow her favorite band and keep up with them and also tweet about them and connect with other people who liked them.
That was the point of social media. To connect with others. To be able to tell others what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, sometimes people even wanna share what they’re eating.
You were able to connect with people from other parts of the world, or with family in another part of the world.
It was that connecting bridge.
Social media was also created to be our break from the world. But somewhere along the way it became… addicting.
And social media turned from something good into something consuming.
Don’t get me wrong, if we didn’t have social media, I think we all might have lost our minds at this point (example: 2020).
But if you’re like me, you would have had to take a social media break once in a while. Social media can feel very addictive at times. Sometimes we spend countless hours on it and forget how much time passes us by. Sometimes we use it as a personal news outlet and get too caught up in the tragedy of the world. Sometimes we get too affected by seeing everyone’s seemingly perfect lives and get overwhelmed.
These have become the disadvantages of social media.
At the beginning it was nice. When I got my twitter, that was literally like my blog for me. I was so excited. I shared quotes, thoughts and poems. For me at the time, it was the best. I could freely say whatever was on my mind and I didn’t even care. Looking at it now, I cringeeeee extremely. I can’t even tweet personally anymore because I’ve become that self-conscious of myself.
It’s like as I got older and my anxiety became more aware, I started caring more about what I say and what I put out there. And I cared too much at a point where I only retweet stuff on my twitter now. I mean trust me, my tweets were extremely cringe back in the day. There was so much angst for no reason when I was like 13 lol.
But social media suddenly went from no filter to a piece of tape over my mouth.
Then I got instagram and snapchat. At first, for instagram, I just started with a photography account because that’s all I was comfortable with. And I was happy with it, I loved photography and still do. It gave me a space to share the photos I was very excited about and I’m grateful for that. But then a couple of years later my friend got me a personal one where I share my singing and I do like that one too and am very serious about it.
For snapchat, my friends did want me to get one and I did, it really didn’t take much persuasion. And I used it a lot during my high school year. But more recently, I stopped using it because I didn’t use it as much.
I would say I have a rocky relationship with social media. I do understand its benefits but I also suffer from its disadvantages. Sometimes it takes a toll on me and I feel pressured or stressed or afraid. At that point, I need to get away from it for a while.
I don’t know if you’ve ever liked someone and you had their social media. I can tell you now, that feeling is torture…. oh my gosh. Thank goodness, I don’t have to go through that anymore. (*shivers*) Because it’s the worst feeling having those thoughts of, “Has he seen my story? Did he respond? Who’s this person on his story? Why has he left me on read?” blah blah blah. That it the worst feeling. And I have taken breaks for those reasons in the past. Yes, social media does connect us with them but it also gives us all those unsettling feelings. And we do get hurt sometimes, we see things we don’t want to see and find out stuff we didn’t know. I can’t count how many times I’ve been heartbroken over something I saw on social media.
It’s become an information hub. Not only do we learn stuff about people we like but we also get a whole bunch of news. I feel like this is an amazing use of social media. We can talk about stuff that’s bothering us and talk about something wrong that happened and band against it. That is positively one of the best advantages of social media. It gave us, small people, a voice. But at the same time, too much of it can get scary and overwhelming. Looking at the trends and seeing all the injustice in the world can affect us negatively.
To the point where we would need to take a break.
But we can also look at cute dogs and cat videos. So social media does have it ups and downs. I do think that it’s become more overwhelming over the years. But so has the world.
In a way, I feel like… This blog has been it’s own social media disease for me at some point.
When I first started this blog I knew absolutely nothing about WordPress. I just knew one of my friends had one to post her poetry somewhere and I was like “Hmmm maybe I could put my thoughts somewhere?”
And this blog was born in one of the most difficult time periods of my life. And I think 70% of why those difficult moments didn’t take me out was because of this blog. This space was a space to let my thoughts run free and wild.
And that was the goal. And it worked.
Until there were likes, comments, follows, and attention… and that’s all I cared about as time went on.
Keep in mind, 15 year old Rebecca didn’t even know wordpress had likes or follows when I started writing my first few posts. The pure surprise and excitement of getting my first like is still so memorable to this day.
I don’t know why or how statistics became the forefront… but it did.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about how poorly some posts were doing or how much I needed to generate a post… as if I was a robot and needed to think of a new idea before… people ultimately forgot who I was.
I used to check these numbers religiously…
And along the way, I lost the point. I lost the purpose. And I took a lot of breaks. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason… but it was an integral part
This blog was becoming social media for me and I needed to take a step back and decide what i wanted it to be. At the same time, I also got busy and couldn’t find time to sit down and write a post.
I’m very grateful in a way, that quarantine gave me some more time to focus on my blog and slowly come back to it. And I think in the middle of coming back in 2020, I did take a couple breaks in between because the statistics were still getting to me.
But I didn’t want to let go of this blog. It became my hope and my home back in the day when I needed it. Whenever I lost with the world, I came to my blog and felt like it wasn’t over yet. It saved me a countless number of times, whether I was crying in a bathroom or left alone at lunch. What should have taken me out, didn’t. Because I had this blog, this thing that showed me there’s more to what I see. There’s more to me than some depressing high school moment. I couldn’t just give up on it because the effects of social media took over.
The only reason I can truly say that I haven’t taken my month long break yet is because I hardly check my notifications anymore (which is why I reply late to comments, sorry about that). And maybe it’s because I have a new laptop and it’s much easier (and lowkey fun) to type on it.
But at the end of the day, I think I’m back to writing for me. Instead of writing for an audience.
And that’s the best kind of writing. And if for some reason my writing gains attention and traction, that’s just an added benefit… but not the cause.
We’ve lost December
The month of hope and celebration
The lights are being taken down,
The plastic Christmas tree goes back in the attic,
Trash bags are full of discarded gift wrapping,
And the magic feels takes away.
We’re reminded of the cold winter season,
That the holiday eluded us from.
We still sip cocoa and put on fuzzy socks…
But it doesn’t feel the same.
The sky is dim at four in the afternoon,
And the lights are no longer out to cheer our spirits.
The cheer is gone and forgotten with a new year.
We get a new beginning but say goodbye to the end.
The end that is December.
And we have to wait 12 more months for that feeling again,
That feeling of hope, love, and recollection,
That feeling you get playing merry songs and cheesy movies,
That feeling that December brings.
We have to sacrifice that feeling
In order to say hello to a new year.
But what a nice way to end a year,
With festivities and delight,
Almost as if to forget all the strife we had to endure but also celebrate all the pain we’ve been through in these eleven months.
We pull out all the stops in December,
This is the only season we’re allowed to unapologetically.
We honor the fact that we made it to the end… somehow, someway.
We celebrate with lights, food and love.
As we ring in a new beginning filled with newfound hope.
We say goodbye to December,
And hello to January,
Hello to the new year,
Hello to a new beginning,
Hello to more lessons, pain, and blessings.
because i’m still in denial.
i’m not sure how many of you are frequent visitors but if you read a few posts here and there, i’ve talked about someone who stopped talking to me when quarantine happened, in march.
we haven’t spoken in what’s about to be 10 months. almost a year.
although in march before quarantine happened, things had already been weird for a while. we stopped telling each other things, stopped calling and texting each other, and stopped being us.
i’ve talked about it here and there so I’m not going to repeat and reiterate.
many people have left my life and every time it hurts more and more but this time… i don’t know. i didn’t think a quarantine would be our end.
i mean the quarantine wasn’t really what broke us, we broke us. the quarantine just gave us a way out of the situation that became slightly toxic for the both of us.
the quarantine was our way out of this weird situation.
it’s still hard to believe it’s been 9 months. all the memories and moments still replay like it was yesterday.
and when they replay… it’s not like i’m mad or anything. i actually laugh and smile at all my memories remember. all the jokes we told each other. our relationship with each other, how close we became. us. i’m even smiling writing this and we don’t even talk to each other anymore.
a few months after quarantine, i did start writing a letter to her. it was never going to be sent, i just wanted a way to get my feelings out.
but then, a toxic friend came back into my life (at this point, how does my life not sound like a movie?) and this friend said that she wanted to talk about our past and why we stopped talking to each other. at first, i didn’t want to hear anything from her side but then i relented and talked to her about her side and it made me realize that… even if the situation isn’t your fault, it helps if the other person reaches out and you’re able to talk about your differences and your point of view. because i know there’s always two sides to a story. for the toxic friend and i, it had been about 2 years since we stopped talking. and i realized, i didn’t want it to be 2 years later and realize that i could’ve said something to the quarantine person.
so while the toxic friend and i had our conversation and i had little epiphanies, i went back to that letter. and i started writing it as if i was going to send it. so i started telling my side. of why i started acting weird and everything that hurt me. i said it in a way as if i was talking to her.
i just started writing and writing the whole story. i wrote relentlessly and i think i wrote about six pages of things to say. and didn’t do anything. i just let it sit there in my google docs.
then i don’t know what made me change, maybe the convo with the toxic friend, maybe my realizations but i just decided that i would give the letter to her. in this 21st century of technology.
if i sent a text message, it would’ve been wayyyyyyy too many messages.
plus a letter was something that she could have, physically. plus, i mean, i am a writer so it only felt right to send a letter.
so i brushed up the letter, added a few things here and there. did a spell check. changed the font. and printed it. printing it was the first step. i printed it and folded it but i couldn’t put it in an envelope. putting it in the envelope just made it more real? i guess. but when i did finally put it in the envelope, again it laid discarded on top of the pile of books on my nightstand.
then my dad told me that he was going to this person’s house to give them some brownies that we had made. so that’s when i decided… okay it’s time. so i got a sharpie, put her name on the front and sealed the envelope. of course, i prayed after sealing the envelope because i was so nervous. i would have no idea the impact this letter would have and i still don’t know to this day. it might be sitting in a garbage dump, it might be on her dresser. who knows.
anyway, i gave it to my dad while he was leaving to give them the stuff on the way to work. and i set the letter free.
i couldn’t ask my dad if he gave it to her. because i was too anxious. so i still don’t know what happened to it. i think i sent it in june? so it’s been like six months and no reply. who knows where that letter is, who knows if she read it?
and me being me, i’ve had to repress that letter. i’ve had to believe i never sent it for the sake of my sanity. but i did send it. it’s out there. and i didn’t get any response back.
but I did all I could. I explained my side. I didn’t have to send that letter and explain my side but I wanted to. I wanted her to know how I was feeling in that time, how some things she did hurt me and how it just felt during that time period of my life.
and i told her i missed her, she was like an older sister to me and it felt that way too.
I wasn’t trying to guilt her, or hurt her by sending that letter, I just wanted to let her know what happened for me.
and it’s her choice if she doesn’t respond. I do understand why she hasn’t responded and might never. we did hurt each other a lot during that time period where things were weird between us. so i do understand.
but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
i miss her every day. i think about how things would be different if i was just honest with her and told her about my anxiety and my pain and everything. but i ultimately can’t go back. i know my reasons for not saying anything back then and if i were to go back, nothing would change.
but how do you make it stop hurting? how do you make the person shaped hole in your heart go away? how do you stop thinking of that person when you drive your car and look over to the empty passenger seat where they always sat for hours on endless car rides… and be okay?
how do you fathom that shift? how does your heart be okay with letting that go. with letting that piece go? as if you never knew that person and having them out of your life has no impact on you? how do you pretend? how do you get your closure?
how does it become okay? someone you considered a sister? someone you spent the majority of your life with for the past 2 years, how… how?
and it is a new year, 2021. and i’m one of the people who think if you don’t bring a person into the new year then ultimately you left them back in 2020. and it has proven to be true in the past. of course, sometimes it’s not true. but this is a new beginning and it would be a little ridiculous to carry all this into 2021.
idk. i always thought post-quarantine, she would talk to me about the letter. she was always an in-person talker. she didn’t want to text her problems. we would literally spend hours sitting in my car, just talking and talking. so i always had hope that if we were to see each other face to face again, that’s when we would mend things. but it’s been 9 months. i don’t… i can’t wait for that hope to come true. who even knows if that’s going to happen? who even knows when post-quarantine will be for us? i can’t wait around with my heart on my sleeve…
no matter how many times a person has left… each time, it never gets easier.