Hermit

The police were at my door again. This time A called them. Of course, I said I was fine blahblahblah. But right after they left, my parents were talking nonstop. I know they didn't mean to sound like I'm in trouble. I know they're only just worried and concerned. I know it's selfish for me to not tell them anything. But as much as I want to, I can't. Words are floating in my heads but I can't string them together to make sane sentences. I just can't verbally articulate to them...to anyone how I feel and why I feel the way I do.
I stood there for over an hour as my parents rambled on. Their lips were moving furiously and eyes filled with terror and worried. My eyes darted back and forth between the four wildly moving hands. My palms were sweaty. My lips were chapped. My temples ached. My muscles were tense and my arms shook. My overwhelming thoughts soon droned their voices out.
But my thoughts were nothing new. Just the same dramatic, pathetic crap:
"I feel really stupid. I should have never told anyone anything. Am I in trouble now? I just want to go upstairs and sleep. Maybe this is just a nightmare. Why did A have to call the cops? I wish I can swallow the entire bottle of pills and never wake up. I need to do homework. I'm failing every subject. My teachers pretend to care about me. So do most of the people at school. Maybe I should tell my parents. No, they're already freaking out when I don't say anything." etc, etc.
---
The truth is...it's not just my parents I haven't spoke to. I haven't talked to anyone really about anything. I've been just a crazy lady writing on the walls of my room. Reading and mumbling to herself. Yelling at her mirror. Throwing pills across the room. Typing on an online blog that I haven't shared to anyone. Crying and clinging to my head. My head still hurts. The medicine hasn't truly kicked in yet, I guess.
I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't even want to go to my outpatient therapy sessions anymore. They used to help but really, lately, it's just been a drag to even get out of bed. Plus, I have better things to do like college essays and homework. (By the way, both of which I did do today! :) )
Socializing has just gotten more and more tedious and frivolous. Guys just want to get in my pants or want a relationship. Like A says, "it's all or nothing". The word "friendship" just doesn't seem to exist to them. Girls are boring. They just want to shop, gossip, or get drunk at parties. How much I yearn for an intellectual talk of substance. But yet, I'm scared. I always feel inferior to people at my school. I always feel dumb. A lately has only been the only person I've been comfortable talking with.; only rarely I would feel dumb and even then, I don't seem to mind it.
---
I even stopped painting. I know I should paint soon because Marwen Lab is starting soon and I also need to send in some paintings as art supplements for colleges. Unless I don't do that, but I probably wouldn't get in then.
I wanted to burn/throw away my paintings at one point. Everyday I've been meaning to pick up my paintbrush and do something, even just sketching in notebooks, but I no longer find it as a refuge or even just pure pleasure. It has only given me stress. I am not a suitable artist. I am not capable of producing good art. In fact, the work I produce is sometimes repulsive and a disgrace to even consider it "art".

Hollow, Empty, and Numb I am

My fingers are literally shaking as I type this. I am extremely alone now. I have just cut off my only true friend, A. He was the only person I truly talked to. But maybe it's impossible to have friends of the opposite sex. They either want the body or the heart. Why can't we just all be friends? God, I sound pathetic. This blog is starting to sound like some melancholy 13 year old obsessed with Disney princesses. And maybe that's who I've become. Just some loser. 

---

I took more Citalopram than I needed today because I didn't know how to cope with my panic attacks. I then went on Wikipedia to see if it's possible to die of overdose on it. It didn't specifically say and somehow I was disappointed. I don't want to die though. I have things I want to do and places to see. But I don't want to be at the stage I'm at now. I don't want to talk to any of the current people in my life, I don't want to go to school, I don't want to paint, I don't want to do anything. I just want to start over. I want to be better. I want to learn. But I don't want to see anybody. oghqoghjejagoj I feel like I'm going insane. I keep talking to myself aloud. I tgeghjeoijh can't even read silently sometimes. I hear myself cry at night, but then I realize I'm only crying in my head. I wish I can actually cry aloud.

---

Have you ever wanted to cry so bad that your chest gets this hollow, empty feeling and you start shaking? The tears never come out and your eyes don't even water, but your whole body is trembling and tense. I think that's worse than crying. At least, when you cry you can relieve the pressure building up inside and you can express how you feel. But I just constantly feel this hollow emptiness shaking and rumbling inside of me, unable to contain it, but also unable to release it. And so hollow, empty and numb I am.

Therapy

My hands were shaking a bit as I flipped the pages of Siddhartha. I was on page 80 where he described his disgusting self-indulgence and his old, weary body and soul dragging on to play the game of society. It really seemed to fit my current situation with the tedious small talks at school, smoking lung cancer-induced cigarettes daily, and having sex with someone I don't love. But it was difficult for my eyes to focus on the inked letters as I waited patiently in the small, empty waiting room. I was early. The hands of the clock slowly ticked by as it reminded me there was still 20 more minutes until 9. I'm not sure what I was afraid of, maybe the closed doors made me nervous, made me curious about who or what was waiting for me. I was going to give my life story to a group of strangers, for what seemed like the 2498534 time. The day before, I had to answer several friends when they were worried, several school staff because they were concerned, and several hospital employees because it was their jobs. After repeating my story so many times, my own words that stumble out of my mouth soon seemed foreign and trivial to me. I soon become numb to my situation and I no longer truly want to deal with it. I wanted to run away from it. 

Though they might say they won't judge me, 

(headache, I'll get back to this...later...)

Will Power

What are you running away from Olivia? Why are you so scared? Why can't you just try? Failure? Is that it? Stop blaming everything. Nothing is distracting you, you're just trying to avoid responsibility! But why! Olivia you're better than that. Why don't you try anymore? You lost all the sparkle, all that motivation. You're dying on the inside Olivia. You're dull and dumb because you lack effort and strength to continue. Then you try to blame depression, other people and headaches for your problems. In reality, you're just a lazy, selfish narcissist. You want to cheat the system, you want to do less work and find an easy way out, but you know that doesn't exist! So then, why are you ruining you're life? Corrupting your mind with frivolous, trivial thoughts when you can be something. You want it. You want to be something, then act like it. Self loathing and sulking around in bed all day can't get you anywhere. You know it yet you watch the hands of the clock tick by.

I know the beginning is the roughest part, but you'll never get anywhere if you don't start somewhere. Just go. Please.

Grow the Fuck Up, Olivia!

I did a lot of thinking today. And self-reflecting. A lot more than usual. I had sex with J again.   He came over and we ended up sleeping in each other's arms and I read a little bit. Throughout the time, I realized that I don't like M. I don't like J. I don't like anyone. I simply just want someone there for me to make myself feel better. I, like any other human being, depend on others to make me feel better.
I remember a similar incident happened last year. I depended on J to make me feel happy. His love was what comforted me when I was down and that was why J left me (or so he said). He didn't want me to depend on him so much, constantly leaning on him when I'm down and needing him by my side, even if it's just emotionally or spiritually.
And today, I realized something as I was wrapped up in J's arms on my bed. I realized I really don't need to depend on anyone for my own happiness. I don't need anyone else's judgement, approval of what to do and what not. And I most certainly don't need anyone's permission to be happy or not.
I always say I'm not good enough for this life and no matter how hard I try I may never be where I want to be. I always pictured myself walking up a spiral staircase, constantly walking up, never reaching a destination point. But there really doesn't need to be a destination point. There is no "real" goal that I have to make...well, not for society. Not for anyone at school. I went onto Facebook accidentally today (to show Arnold a picture of someone) and ended up seeing numerous of people getting into Ivy Leagues and great colleges. Instantly, I felt down and confused. I felt uncertain if I was worthwhile, useful in society, and if Ivy League would be right with me. Although it was a split second hesitation, I felt extremely ashamed, angry, and disappointed to even consider impressing people I don't care for. WHY SHOULD I APPLY IF IT DOESN'T SUIT ME. And that's what Facebook is! It's a whole popularity game. It's a Bragbook - who I hung out with over the weekend, the places I've gone, things I've seen, clever statuses to prove I'm better than you. I've grown out of it. I'm better than that. I am not going to conform into society's standards and try to meet their invisible quotas. To satisfy their consumerist thirst.
Point being, I understand I have a different path than others and I don't need to be confused, uncertain, or worry if I don't choose the same road as others or what society has placed as "guideline". I don't need to color within the lines in a coloring book. I can rip up the damn book if I wish and use it to make paper-mache or a collage. Whatever, I digress....
This has always been my belief- to be a nonconformist. I've lectured countless people about this and many people have told me the same. It always made sense to me logically, but I guess today was the first time I truly felt it and connected the concept in my head. It just didn't severely "click" 'til today, I guess.
A sent me several texts yelling at me, basically telling me to snap the fuck out of it. "You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and just fucking kick ass because its what you want to do";"So pick yourself up, dust yourself off, shut up, and grow up." He's right. I guess what I really needed to snap out of my stupid fairy-tale, woe-is-me phase was a big shove off the cliff. That was exactly how I felt when I was reading them. I was hurt. I was shocked. But I needed it. I need to grow the fuck up and stop self-pitying. It's pathetic, I've always hated it. But the more I hated it, the more I felt worthless and continued to live my pathetic hermit ways of life.

But I need to live for myself and no one else. I live the way I want it to. Paint pictures because I love it, no matter what others think about it. Do whatever my heart tells me is right and rethink everything thoroughly with my own judgement and morals. I cannot be afraid, of friends, of family, of strangers, of society, and of myself.

I need to grow up.

Romance, I mean Nomance

This is going to be done quick so I can just let it out of my system, since I wasn't able to bring myself to tell anyone...

I like M. A lot. He's out of my league. Also, he probably hates me/thinks I'm dumb. Therefore, I fuck J. J might like me, but that's irrelevant. A now hates me because of J. I lost another friend.

The End.

Drowning

I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I really don't. My migraines. My fucking headaches. I didn't go to school today again. I couldn't. In fact, I can't do anything. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't cry. I can't laugh.
I'm swimming and swimming and swimming. It's so exhausting and useless, because in the end, I feel like I'm going nowhere. There is no shore anywhere nearby. I'm in the middle of the ocean and I'm slowly sinking, drowning. But why is it such a long drag to my death, just take me already.
God, I wish there was someone I could tell this to. I probably could tell anyone around me, but I don't feel like they would understand...or genuinely care. Maybe out of obligation. Or maybe out of pity, sympathy.

I'm going nowhere. Emotionally - I'm stressed, depressed, and because of that, more stressed. I'm on a hamster wheel. Physically - I go through the same routine, the same classes, the same places everyday. And metaphorically, I can't find the outlet.
---
In philosophy we're reading Siddhartha and watching Into the Wild. It's funny how both of them are so relevant to my life. My mom is a Buddhist, so Siddhartha's story is very familiar to me. I've been listening to the myths, legends, proverbs and lessons of the Buddha all my life. It's funny how I understand everything logically and can recite it all to anyone I know, to explain and help others reexamine their current lifestyles and decisions, but for me, I can't follow my own advice.
As for Into the Wild, I've read the book countless times until my copy is highlighted, marked and torn at almost every corner of the page. I've seen the movie probably 4 times. I understand the lessons and looked at the different perspectives from each character. I can analyze the stories and lessons to anyone, but the words that roll off my own tongue are strangers to my ears, to my heart. I cannot connect them...because I run away. I run away from my Self. I avoid seeing my true character. I just constantly self-loath and self pity, but can't accept me. And then when I reflect on that, I realize how pathetic the whole situation is and I loathe myself even more. Sometimes I scream at myself in my head. I try to motivate myself by saying I need to change the flaws that I don't like. But I always end up giving up.

I don't know what to do. I really don't. I just keep swimming and swimming. Drowning and drowning.

Apathy

I realize how irrelevant I am to other people's lives more and more as the days progress. I see all these people looking at me, smiling, waving, sighing, complaining. I see their lips move and their hands wave frantically in the air, while I nod and smile back. I realize I no longer care. I no longer truly care about the friends I thought I could share everything to and I can tell they no longer show concern to my existence out of pure sincerity, but rather out of obligation from the memories we had years before and the promises we made to each other saying we'll be there whenever, no matter whatever happens.
I was going to cry earlier, but then I thought about it: I don't really care. It really doesn't matter anymore. I've been fighting depression for so long, but why should I?
I am dust. I am air. And I am nothing, to me and to everyone around me.

Hm :S

I feel very queer. Perhaps it's because I've been watching Doctor Who and the Twilight Zone for the past two days or the fact that I'm painting in pitch dark as an experimental assignment for the MCA. Or maybe it's Wildbirds & Peacedrums playing in the background. Their avant-garde music is most definitely strange.

Thanksgiving

Recently (yesterday), my mom and I got into a big fight; she's upset, frustrated and angry that I'm not telling her what is wrong. All I'm asking for is patience and understanding, both of which she lacks. A doesn't want to talk anymore. And I haven't talked to anyone else besides M and Ar in the past 2 1/2 weeks. I am alone. Not that I truly mind, since I have a lot of time to reflect and I probably placed myself in this position. Maybe everything that happened to this point has been my fault. Done by me. 

I don't know how to be thankful today. I am not ignorant to the fact that there are people that care about me, but it's hard to express my gratitude when it is stuffed under all this stress and anxiety.

I showed my painting (as seen below) to my mom earlier today. She replied with: "I really, really don't like this painting".

Me: "Why not?" with a face of disappointment.

Her: "Because...Because-You just don't like what I have to say whenever it is negative"

Me: "Well, that's because you always have something negative to say about every painting I do and it's not even solid criticism or suggestion for improvements. Anything I do on a canvas just can never please your tastes"

She sighed and shook her head. "That's why we can never get along"

I walked away.

It's okay. I guess I don't need anyone's approval for my art. As long as I like it, I guess it doesn't matter. But sometimes I just wish, if anyone, any single person, in this world, would like my paintings, that person would be my own mother.

Unrequited Love

You know, many people would beg, plead, seduce, just about anything to get someone willing to love them unconditionally, no matter what time of day it is, no matter if it's the last moment of time. But it is absolutely the dumbest desire anyone can have. Love is a scary thing. With love, one can manipulate another to do whatever he/she pleases.
And what I hate the most is to be in that position. Not the victim, but rather, the person that cannot reciprocate. It's a terrible place to be in, to know that any wrong move you take can directly impact, affect, hurt the other person. It's like holding his hand running into a mine field, blindfolded.
What can I do? What should I do? What should I do when he says I mean the world to him...and I can't say the same back?

Smoking and Biking

I think smoking and biking are inversely proportional in my life currently. When I don't bike, I become extremely stressed, worried, and agitated. I constantly over-think phrases people say. Wonder about this class, anxious about that college. Life just seems chaotic and my only way to calm down is to smoke a square. I think it's best in the cold, when my fingers get numb and the tears that are finally release are cold plates on my face. This week has been filled with crying, self-loathing, self-pity, and smoking. "Oh woe is me". Every time I look in the mirror, I feel more and more pathetic.
Smoking is probably the most pathetic habit I recently took on. The big emotional impact I had from Grandpa's death from stroke turned me into a complete ANTI-cigarette person. I really want to say I'm just simply growing up or my philosophy class has finally wedged into my lifestyle, but in reality, this hypocritical action is just a sign of giving up. I'm not sure what I'm giving up on, but I know I need to stop.
On the other hand, after I biked continuously for 3 hours today, made art for several hours, had a good laugh with my friends and then biked through a warm, dark night alone, I felt good.  Actually, "good" isn't a word that would do it justice. It was a hopeful, uplifting feeling. A motivating spirit that sprouted out. The thoughts to change, to be better filled my head as I biked. I was fearless. Like a scummy alley cat prowling around the night.

MEOOoOoOoOOoWWW~

I am going to bike everyday to quit smoking.

No No No

This can't happen to me. I think I like a self-obsessed, arrogant, asshole hipster. Again. I'm so embarrassed and ashamed of it that I can't even write a full post about him. Or say his name aloud. Or look at him in the eyes. Or let even my best-est close friends know. It's been 4 weeks. I hope this phase ends soon. Oh dear heavens.

Beggars on the Train

father and daughter

Rainy Thoughts

What made me wonder the most tonight wasn't the college fair. It wasn't from the vast variety of places I can to choose to go from and what I can do with my life at each place (though I do tend to think about that). But no, on this stormy, dark night, I reflected a lot. It's pathetic; I almost started crying on the train, not really sure why I'm sad though. Am I even sad? I'm not quite sure how I feel. It's a strange feeling with subtle hints of guilt, regret and emptiness.

The feelings derived from the talk with M. I've never talked to him before, well, at least, we never had a conversation with over three exchanging sentences. Today, we had a pretty intimate conversation about A. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to discuss about A and his feelings with others though. I feel like true feelings like his should be left confidential. I accidentally gave it away anyways- M isn't stupid. But it really felt nice to talk to someone who seems to understand; talking to M was extremely comforting. It's nice to lift off the stress and burden off my shoulders for a while. However, I do wish he would stop smoking so damn much. The smell is overwhelming and it's even just about second-hand smoking or save the planet or anything...It smells like death. It smells like my grandpa's death.

---

M is a really strange man. If I ever had an indie film about my life, M would be in it. J too. M would be my imaginary friend, but not like the cute, helpful, nice kinds. 

Bad Buffets

10-20-12
Gulping it down without appreciation. Stuffing my face. Chew. Chew. Faster. Look! There's more. Bulging cheeks. Consuming and consuming. Hide away the left overs. Me. Me. Me! Scraps of wasted food all over my plate. Leave. Leave, leave! What's wrong with me?

Biking

Without you, I mourn all day. I need my legs pedaling constantly to feel like I'm alive. My blood is pumping. My heart, body and soul is complete. The green blurry trees and bright lights surrounds me as I push myself forward faster and faster. Cars honking. Faster. Weave in and out. Turn here. Don't stop, we are one and i hope that never changes.

When Will We Know When We Have Enough?

Will edit later


WBEZ vinyl cafe
story
carol

wealthy

never learned about taking

giving back all her life

inheritance

foundations

when will we finally see that we have enough of life?

free money, free yourself

everyone is always worrying

selfishness

don't we all have what we need already?

how do we know enough is enough?

self-reflection

take, take, take

i need to free myself

too aware of others and how they see me

self-conscious