Bad habit

It's been a while. There's always some huge time gap between my blog posts and I think it's become clear that I only ever come back here to unload my thoughts before they build up inside me and I explode. It's a bad habit, but here I am to do exactly that.

I remember nearly a year ago, I had a kind of emotional breakdown for some reason or another and I just completely bawled my eyes out in front of everyone and it was pretty embarrassing and kinda gross. I had to start seeing a guidance counselor every so often after that incident and it helped in some way because I was able to really start asking myself questions that led me to answers that I needed to combat the sadness that has just been so relentless in trying to surface no matter how many times I bury it. I learned through reflection, self-analysis, and objective reasoning that happiness (or, at the very least, peace) is a choice you have to make whenever life ambushes you with new problems. And I've done that quite well, for the most part. I've done my best to stay positive, keep the sadness inside from sprouting, hide the pain until I forget it's even there.

But I need to concede the truth: I will never truly stop being sad.

It sounds hypocritical, especially after I just said that happiness is a choice. But it's naive to think that you can pick what emotions to feel through sheer force of will. You can only suppress your feelings, never change them. You can keep them inside, hide them, show people something else on the outside, show them you're okay, and that you're strong so they don't look down on you with pity.

This is how it is nearly everyday. Sometimes I forget that I'm lonely and stressed and maybe a little bit angry with myself for not being straight or desirable or talented or responsible or disciplined or "normal." I try to change what I can, I really do. But there's always that sadness inside. Sometimes I forget it's there, but I guess it's always had a hold on me, despite how deeply I bury that fucker.

I know why I am sad. There are things about me I cannot change that get in the way of me being truly happy. I cannot change my orientation, or my personality. I can't change that I'm sarcastic and obsessive and clingy and overdependent on the affections of my friends in order to get through every fucking day without wanting to cry, and that if I don't get frequent reaffirmation that I am actually wanted in this world from the people I love, I'll somehow convince myself that I am not needed by anyone or that I am a burden even though it's probably not true.

Over the course of writing this blog entry, I've taken several deep breaths, and I've calmed down significantly, though not completely. I'm still fighting back tears, and I'm looking for ways to help me once again forget the sadness that is deeply seeded in my very core.

I heard a quote a little over a month ago that really struck me:
Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim.
Translated: "Be patient and strong; someday, this pain will be useful to you."

It made me optimistic, and that made me pretty glad. Essentially, just turn the bad things into good things. A simple enough message, sure, and I sure as hell try my best to stick to it.

I just kind of wish the pain wasn't there all the fucking time.

How the hell do you turn this shit off?

Distracting.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

Well, it's happened again. I've got feelings for someone. And just my luck, he's straight. Which means of course there's no hope for me. I didn't want to develop any feelings for him, but, well, there it is.

Let me say a few things about him.

He's funny, charming, sweet, intelligent, and an incredible musician with a smile that beams to the moon and back. I've only got a crush on him, as far as he knows, and he's cool with that. We'll even crack jokes about it every now and then. Except, my feelings have gone past that point, and he's got no clue.

We go to the same school, and we're really good friends. We've spent lots of time together among other friends, but once in a while we'll talk privately, whether in person or online. We trust each other with our secrets, and come to each other for advice or comfort during difficult times. You could say we're kind of each other's confidante.

But not this time. I can't talk to him about this. I can't risk ruining another perfectly normal and highly successful friendship by admitting my feelings for someone who'll only feel guilty about not being able to reciprocate. Not a third time. I've learned my lesson.

But it's distracting. He's where my mind goes when it wanders. He's who I try very hard not to stare at when we're in the same room. He's the one whose hand I'm always tempted to hold whenever he sits next to me. He's the one whose little green dot I look for when I go on Facebook, forever wanting to say something but never finding anything worth talking about. He's the one who once jokingly told me "I missed you" one day at school, utterly oblivious to how much he made me blush under those orange lights. He's the one I always hug just a few seconds more than I do other people, since I'm at peace whenever he puts his arms around me and I'm always hesitant about letting him go.

I don't know if I'm in love with him. I'm not sure yet. But I don't want to get there. I'll just be sabotaging my friendship with one of the most outstanding people I've ever met in my whole life.

And it

Just. Really.

Fucking.

Sucks.

What the fuck should I do?
What the fuck CAN I do??

Consider This My Cry For Help

I can't remember the last time I ever felt real, lasting happiness. Up to this point, everything's been just a series of fleeting, almost pointless moments of happiness -- short distractions from the feelings I have everyday. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know how to fix myself. All I ever want to do anymore is sleep and cry. The only reason I don't is that I insist that every new day will present itself as less depressing than the last. It never is.

I hang out with friends, listen to cheerful music, watch actions and comedies, play exciting video games, eat good food, make jokes for people and make them laugh, I sing, I smile, give out hugs, compliment people regularly, I get invited to places, get included in conversations, and I completely lose it when I see cute little puppies... And although it may sound absolutely selfish, I still don't feel like it's enough. I still feel as if none of it is... real.

As if my existence is only being tolerated, not appreciated.

Like I'm the human Lorem Ipsum.

Here to fill some space, but still so easily replaced.

So easily forgotten.

I try to be positive, and I actually make an active effort to make every day not just survivable, but actually enjoyable. I find excuses to smile, and sometimes resort to inventing my own, no matter how convoluted or shallow they may be. I find comfort in showing affection to my friends, even if it's clear that some of them aren't interested in receiving it, unless it comes in the form of free stuff. Funny how nobody is ever uninterested in receiving free stuff.

It's so tiring. I'm so tired. I've been able to endure it for years, letting the days just keep chipping away at my foundation, but now I'm finally feeling its effects, making me weaker, and now I'm scared. I feel like Humpty Dumpty, and my wall is being eroded by constant doubt, until I eventually fall. And I can never be put back together. I may not even want to be put back together, for fear of breaking again.

I don't know why I feel like this, despite my constant effort to combat it. That just makes me even more frustrated with myself. I don't want to feel like this.

Consider this my cry for help.

Please... someone fix me before I break.

Over

This goes out to my first ever ex-boyfriend.

I know you broke up with me because you thought you couldn't make me happy. I understand that there are parts of your life that you can't control, and those things result in you having little time for me. You broke up with me because you felt like I deserved better. You broke up with me because you thought we needed it.

I am writing this to tell you how wrong your thinking was.

You assumed I was not happy because you had barely any time for me and could never properly express your affections for me. True, there were times that I felt sad because I missed you after not having seen you a few weeks, but I never felt that the time you gave me wasn't enough. It was in fact one of the best feelings, knowing that there was someone who used what little free time they had to go out of their way to come see me. I never complained about that. And whenever you couldn't bring yourself to tell me you loved me? Yes, it was saddening at times especially when I needed to hear it the most. There were nights when I doubted if you loved me at all. Those nights were the most challenging. But I didn't give up on you because I believed you loved me even without those words. You were able to prove it to me, time and again. Hearing or reading the words would have been nice every once in a while, but it was never a requirement. We loved each other, and we were always sure to show it.

You assumed I was not happy because you were not good enough. The truth is that I always thought you were way out of my league. Hell, maybe half the time we were together I was scared that you'd realize that, too. I was always the one feeling inadequate. I'm not good-looking like you, or successful, or intelligent, or own a car, or have any exciting hobbies. All I ever had to offer was my love for you. And I tried to give you as much of it as possible, to compensate for my lack of anything else. You were more... way more than I could have ever asked for. And I had you. And I failed you.

You assumed we needed to break up as it would have been better for us both, considering the circumstances. If only you knew how much you inspired me. If only you knew how much you motivated me to do well in school, so I could graduate, get a job, and finally be able to help build a future with you. You were the reason I strived so hard. Thinking about you, talking to you, having you to cheer me on the whole way, those were my fuel. I thought music was my passion, but never have I felt more passionate about it than when I had you to give me purpose. I wrote songs about you -- about what you meant to me and how happy I was with you. I needed you. I still do.

I have felt angry and depressed at your decision. But I cannot deny that I still love you, and that I miss you and I want you back.

You said this would only be temporary; that someday we'd get back together when things in your work and family life calmed down. You told me you still loved me and that we'd still be friends. Lately, though, we haven't been speaking much. Our conversations are short, cold, awkward, distant, and lifeless. You seem disinterested in me now. Do I not mean anything anymore? Is this how you really feel, or are you just coping? Do you really still love me and are willing to try again someday?

Or is it all over? I hope not. I'm not over you.

I haven't given up on us. Please don't give up on us either. I need you to be my puppy again.

Lunch break. :)

So I have roughly half an hour left on my lunch break. Let's make this quick...

2 days ago, I was assaulted with the fact that I would start taking calls at work. Oh yeah, I have a job now. As a customer support rep for an online game (booyah!) that I am not at liberty to mention the name of. But as far as I knew, I was only supposed to be handling tickets. I had no idea how this task was suddenly imposed on me out of the blue, but I just went with it. I panicked, but I went with it. I have very little room to complain because I'm being paid. I like being paid. Who doesn't, really?

So anyway, yesterday, it began. I got about 5 calls in 3 hours. Doesn't seem like a lot, but these things take forever to finish. I've never been the type who liked to speak to people -- strangers, no less -- verbally. I'm better with expressing my thoughts and opinions through writing and typing and crap. I find it more comforting to know that I can change what I'm going to say before I actually say it. Speaking just gives you too little leeway in terms of taking back what you said in favor of something better that you could have said. I'm verbally inarticulate. I stutter. I stammer. I speak slowly. I take too much time to think of words to say before I actually say them. My knees go numb when I read my own paper in front of class. I can't pronounce long words until I've said them about six hundred times within the last 2 minutes. I sweat profusely when giving a report or presentation.

Now, take all those things, but put me in front of a single person who is asking for my help regarding something that I don't have a single clue about. I don't even know how a credit card actually works --I put it in the machine, type in my code, tell the machine how much money I want, and it gives it to me; that's it -- so I can't be expected to know how yours works. Oh shit, that's actually just an ATM card. See, I don't even know the difference.

This is why this whole experience has got me so down. I've been tasked with helping people with things I have never even had the luxury of time to familiarize myself with. For 2 weeks, we learned as much as we could about the game. And that's just basics. We've had to actually go into the game and learn all the details ourselves. We had no training when it came to handling things like billing or any technical aspect. These are the kinds of things I had absolutely no intention of being a part of. I wanted to help gamers, but only with the things I have the capacity to understand or learn. I'm not happy with knowing that my own incompetence can result in our players not getting what they need. It makes me feel stupid. The last IQ test I took called me a "genius" or "gifted" or something along those lines. I might just be naïve, but I do know that I am more intelligent than I let people see. It keeps those pesky expectations away. Damn expectations.

That said, knowing that I can't put my above-average mental capabilities to good use when trying to deal with customers... I don't like how it feels. It makes me feel like the village idiot.

I'm still trying, though. I'm hoping that I'll get better at this whole "taking calls" fuckery in time, and that I'll get used to all the strange procedures. And I hope I start talking with more sense. I'm not going to quit because of this. The things I -can- do, I do very well. When I do well, I love my job. Hell, I even love my boss. I doubt a lot of people get to say that.

There goes my half hour.
Until next time. :)

We Finally Wake Up...

... As one boy sleeps forever.
September 18. 2011: 14-year old Jamey Rodemeyer takes his own life.

Hundreds of people came to his funeral, yet so few knew him personally.
Thousands of people mourned his death, but have never even seen him before.
Millions of people cried as his idol, an international pop superstar, dedicated a performance just for him.

Jamey Rodemeyer, 14-years old, was a victim of the most underrated hate crime in the world -- bullying. At school, he was insulted, demeaned, humiliated, psychologically tortured... He had had enough. His strength was no longer enough to endure the torment of his peers. He decided to end it all with the ultimate escape: death.

He was gay, was bullied for it, and ultimately died because of it.

He did, however, make the infamous "It Gets Better" video which aimed to inspire and bring hope to the people who were just like him -- not necessarily gay, but misunderstood, neglected, mistreated, hated for being themselves. It is his legacy.

It may be no exaggeration to say that he was Lady Gaga's number 1 fan. Her message contained in the song "Born This Way" served as Jamey's mantra. It was a song that stood for equality among all human beings. It gave him strength and hope, as it continues to do for so many others like him. I suppose the bullying simply eroded his spirit. The hate he endured, the emotional stoning, the soul-crushing verbal abuse was all too much. He cried for help, and nobody who could actually do anything... actually did anything. His calls fell on deaf ears.

Lady Gaga is now on her way to making bullying illegal, for she considers it a hate crime. I respect her a hundredfold for this, for I myself am no stranger to bullying. I'm sure a lot of us are familiar with it. We have either done it, seen it, read about it, imagined it, or endured it ourselves.

Jamey Rodemeyer's death is a wake-up call for society.

Hundreds of teens and young adults are taking their lives because of the unwillingness to endure another day of pain and undeserved emotional thrashing.
Thousands of teens and young adults are contemplating the thought of suicide, unsure if there are people who will care enough to miss them when they are finally gone forever.
Millions of people of all ages continue to kick people who are already down, only because it makes them feel superior, stronger, more important, more admired. Or just because they choose not to understand or sympathize.

If you've ever been bullied for anything... for being gay, fat, short, slow, poor, ugly, for wearing glasses, for having brightly colored socks, for tucking your shirt into your shorts, for reading novels instead of comics, for writing poems instead of playing video games, for planting trees instead of climbing them, for loving your parents when it was deemed lame, for listening to Björk instead of the Black Eyed Peas, for being different in a way that nobody else wanted to understand... please share this post. Let the world know how evil the hate crime of bullying truly is.

Jamey Rodemeyer (@hausofjamey)'s last Tweet was:
"@LadyGaga bye mother monster, thank you for all you have done, paws up forever"


"No matter gay, straight, or bi, lesbian, transgendered life,
I'm on the right track. Baby, I was born to survive.
No matter black, white, or beige, Chola, or orient-made,
I'm on the right track. Baby, I was born to be great."
-Born This Way, Lady Gaga.

His death has trended the following on Twitter:
RIP Jamey
BULLYING IS FOR LOSERS
EVERYONE IS BEAUTIFUL


Rest in peace, Jamey Rodemeyer.
It will get better. We promise.

Shutting Up

A lot of times, I feel like the only people who don't mind me talking are the ones who can't even hear me, or have the option to ignore what I have to say. It's just one of those things that I guess I'm just paranoid about. I always feel like I'm one of those people that people just "don't mind" having around, rather than one that people "like" having around. I'm a footnote, an extra, elevator music, part of the crowd, the background, the wallpaper. I can't even remember a time when anyone I wasn't related to looked forward to seeing me, or bothered to stay long enough to enjoy my company. I don't know who my real friends are. I'm not even sure if I have any.

I've often joked to myself: "What am I doing on all these social networking sites? I hardly even have a social life to begin with." And I'd laugh because I'd convince myself that the 150+ friends I have on Facebook actually were my friends. But upon closer inspection, most of these people are either just my relatives or people I have some kind of insignificant acquaintanceship with. The only people who ever talk to me are the ones that I talk to first. Never has anyone, out of their own free will, chatted me up just to say, "hey, I missed you. How have you been?"

Granted, I do have a few people I hold so close to my heart that they crowd it so much as to leave me clinically dead for a few hours. But I have to ask myself, are these the people who are gonna cry instead of laugh at my funeral if I die of a freak accident involving a dot-matrix printer and a bag of marshmallows? The only answer that comes to mind is "no." But any marshmallow-related death is always funny, so I probably can't blame them if they cry out of side-splitting laughter instead of sorrow.

I guess I'm just not that guy. I've never been that guy -- the one that people would do anything to hang out with regardless of weather conditions, or the one that gets floods of text messages in the morning from people wishing him a good day, or the one that people invite out just so they could share their good experiences with so they have stories to tell and retell each other the next week, or the one that people want to lean on because they know I've got their backs. People don't see me that way, and I don't know how to make them see me that way.

Too often is it said that it's always best to be yourself. Well, that shit doesn't really work for me.

I'm just that somewhat funny, always sarcastic, trivia-filled, book-reading, blog-writing, bad joke-telling, muffin-top-wielding weirdo who sings in the shower and has fake orange hair. I don't know if I'll ever be able to impress anyone just being myself. I can't even impress myself with being myself.

And this is me, already looking on the bright side.

I'm just venting. Nobody really reads my blog anyway. My blog is pretty useless. Just like wallpaper.

I'll shut up now.