Letter to self #9

With the year drawing to a close, I thought it apt for us to take a look back, because this year meant a lot to both you and I.

2013...

A lot has happened, hasn't it? This year alone marks a special spot in both our histories. You allowed me to blend into you, and you allowed me to be seen by others. In a lot of ways, I feel that this year have been very important for you to become who we are.

Studying, working, doing all sorts of new crazy things...I never thought you had this whole spirit in you, because I knew you would rather be cautious than take risks. But coming into the program has really helped you, isn't that so? I think there were many moments you had to confront yourself. You could have turned away, could have run from it and no one would be the wiser. But you chose to confront yourself anyway. You didn't rely on me to lick your wounds, or allow yourself to swim in righteous self-pity. Those major moments you allowed a select few to see inside you, or to express yourself with self-censorship because you wanted to make sure to be nice and not hurt people's feelings, I think it's a sign of growth, and I think you should be proud of yourself for being able to do that.

In a lot of ways, this year had us both talking to each other a lot, didn't we? Whenever you sit down to reflect about the things that happened, you stop by to see me, and allowed me to share my perspective with you. I think it's refreshing, being able to speak up for once. There were...moments I thought we would both fail. Of course, there were moments when you struggled, but tried to stand on your own. At this rate, I wonder if I would still be needed. But of course, I am, and will always be you, so it's a given that you will continue to need me, just in a different capacity. Perhaps that too would be interesting.

Let's take a look at some of those major points...

Sharing with the class about your own painful experience. This was the beginning of it all wasn't it? That tiny little bit of courage, allowing others to see you for who you are. And to have them all come around and give you a hug, and tell that it's okay to be in pain. That was the beginning. And then, to have others acknowledge that truly, you are actually really shy and secretive about yourself, and to be okay with waiting for you to come out to them. That was what you and I have been searching for all this while. Of course, I don't mean that only good things happened after this, because then you felt more opened up to risks. There was a danger about the experience, and uncertainty which took away that sense of confidence in you. But in its place, I think you are much more honest to yourself, and that is good.

Another major event...that night you decided to tell him. You had it rehearsed over and over in your head, and still, you were nervous, weren't you? And as you'd expected, he didn't know. He didn't even see it coming; you could see it in his eyes. And in the end, you did feel sad. Not quite hurt, or in pain...just a mellow sort of loneliness and melancholy. But then you called her, like you always do, and you felt better. Over the next few days, you had this sense of quiet about you. But it wasn't a bad thing. You thought a lot about it, but you didn't overthink it like you always did. I know, because if you were stuck in a swamp of self-pity and misery, I would've come. But you didn't. You sat through it, allowed yourself time to first accept it (I wouldn't say grieve, because we both know how we're like with mourning loss). And in the end, you came out of it all right, and you still wanted to be friends. I think it's an improvement.

Then the event. Those four days...that was something wasn't it? Meeting all those new people, but especially those three, it blew away your fatigue from the year and made you feel like you could face another year. That sense of intimacy, I think, was not something you had expected, much less desired. But it was present nonetheless, and it had been great for you. I think, this is the first for both you and ! to feel this lonely after new friends leave. And to want to work so hard at keeping in touch with them, I simply hope this spells a new bond, and not an overattachment. This meeting has given both of us hope, and perhaps a little reckless bravado, because we made several promises to people we just met! (Teaching English long-distance is one thing, but agreeing to try cosplay and aim for Japan trip? I think it's unheard of from you.)

2013 has been one crazy ride for you and I, but we both made it out alive, in one piece...and perhaps kicking in a new gear for the next. I'll see you again next year, and know that I'll still be right in here when you need me.

Letter to self #8

I know today isn't the best of days. It isn't even the worst of days. But it is the day you learnt what it means to feel even a tinge of envy. It feels miserable and painful, isn't it? Watching him being so much more expressive with someone else, and he isn't that way with you, it hurts you deep inside. Deep down, you wish to yourself that he would show you such expressions, that his smile and laughter will be directed at you. I know that's what you want, but I also know that's not what you're getting.

You try to put up a bravado, like you don't care, telling yourself that you'd wait. You'd just continue to behave the way you do, hoping he would notice the signs that you're paying extra attention to him, or that you are trying to tell him, in subtle ways, that you're interested. And it hurts when you can't tell whether it's getting there. I don't know what's worst, him not getting the signals, or getting it but not interested. I know for a fact that you don't feel confident about yourself as a girl. I know for a fact that this is the first time you've been this deep in the whirlpool.

But I want you to hold on. I want you to stay strong, keep doing what you're doing, and if he's really interested, he would approach you no matter what (at least, that's what people say. I, for one, think guys will still have a touch of cowardice in them for things like this). If he's not, I guess no matter what you do, it's wasted on them. You're attracted to his kindness, his smile, and his seemingly genuine care. But at times, he doesn't even look at you twice. So it slices you up inside. Not knowing is tearing you apart, but asking is just this huge risk you don't want to take. It's ok. We all get it. It doesn't mean you're a bad person, or a complete coward, or someone who is full of it. It just means you're a normal girl, with fragile feelings for things like this. Hold on.

I want you to remember that one day, someone will come along and see the beauty in you. Someone will notice who you are, see the nuances in you that he will love, and come to love you for who you are. Someone will learn of the dark, shadowy parts inside you, and still take them in because he loves you and won't want you to be less than you. I know, one day, someone will come along. And you are worth it. I know you feel like crap now, thinking you're the most unattractive person in class, or whatever. But you are worth it. This is just...a painful feeling, which you can endure. And I know you can endure. Because you are kind, affectionate, caring and loving, and you will give your whole heart to the person you love without conditions, even though you know he can hurt you with it. But you are trusting, and you will tell him, in that slightly abashed way you get when you're shy about certain truths, that you trust and love him wholeheartedly. And you know what? He will return your love with the same. One day, someone will come along, and you are worth it. So hold on.

If I could ever have a "bad day", maybe today is the day. I don't mean that my day was bad, no...but I end the night feeling down in the dumps...just for one reason.

You know, despite my personality and my confidence in many things, I still feel so anxious when it comes to things like this. Because I really don't know how to deal with it, or handle it. I acted cheerful, attentive and everything else, but how I truly felt inside. I felt a little sidelined, confused and full of turmoil. Every time I'm beside him, I want to turn to him and say something. But I felt so gripped by the loss for words that it hurts.

I could see he was occupied today. His mind was elsewhere. Something was bothering him, I think. But I couldn't say anything. I also felt a vague sense of discomfort. Maybe I'm being oversensitive. Maybe I'm being intrusive. I feel like he's stepping away from me. In my head, I know, people like him probably need their personal space. I've had so many friends like that. But it still hurts like no tomorrow. It hurts more when I start thinking that maybe I'm just annoying him.

Someone said, for every person we fall in love with, we stand a chance to take away not only that person's solitude, but also the potential happiness of someone else who may have been a part of that person's world. But I thinking for me, it's more accurate to say, for every person I fell in love with, I give away a part of myself because I want them to be happy. Sometimes at my own expense. For better or for worse. It hurts even more when the other person doesn't know. And I haven't got the courage to say anything. I watch him interact with other people and wish he could talk to me like that. A deep pressure wells up inside of me, unsettles me and it just fills me with a certain pain.

I feel like I'm hurting. I am hurting. It hurts so much to not be able to talk to him naturally, it hurts so much to feel like he doesn't seem to be comfortable enough to talk to me. It hurts, but what can I do? At times like these, should I keep my distance? Should I stay away even when I want to be beside him so, so much? Will I be able to endure it all? Every time I feel this pain, I want to talk to someone. I want answers to questions I know will never have answers. I want them to take away this pain! But I also know they can't possibly do it. So I cover up my hurt, carry on smiling and do other things to distract myself, when all I really want to do is cry and be comforted. The greatest irony lies in the fact that I do not think I can, I don't think I could allow myself to break down in front of someone. And this is just after 3 months. How long more do I need to endure? Will this all go away? Will it stay? Will it root itself more deeply than ever? And can I hold on and not tear myself up inside from the pain I feel right now? 

Letter to self #7

You know those times in your life when you feel a rush of emotions for someone, and you keep trying to push it down, thinking it was nothing? You know how in those times, you doubt yourself over and over again, convinced that it is a mistake?

I thought it would be like that this time too. But I haven't forgotten. It hasn't gone away. Not even when I don't see this person. The way this person invades my thoughts at any time, anywhere, without a moment's notice or a warning, the way I can't stop thinking about him when I start, the way my mind runs away with itself when I think about him. Before this, the feelings I had for others were fleeting. I knew in my head they weren't serious, and I told myself time will wear it all down. And it did.

At first I told myself that. I told myself that maybe, like every other time, this would turn out in the exact same way with all the other times. But I knew...deep down inside, I knew. This time, it felt different. I've never had my thoughts so filled with one person. I've never had a time when, even supposedly doing something that consumes the totality of my attention, this person just simply floats in and steals my focus. I've never had someone made my heart race like this, for so long a time. I've never had someone who did this to me that I didn't want to avoid. I've never had someone who, when I see someone else engaging with him almost effortlessly, that I would feel so anxious about.

So I knew. Some people have been calling it a crush, but I don't think crushes have ever made me try to imagine a future with a person. I'm a little afraid. I've only known how to be honest with others about my thoughts, but I've never learnt how to be completely honest about my feelings. It's an insecurity that's so deeply rooted in me that I've learnt to instinctively protect myself when I'm about to get hurt. That's why the moment I feel even a fraction of attraction to a person, I try to squash it down. But this is different.

Instead of moving away, I want to be closer to him. I feel like I want to get to know him better, get to understand him. I feel like sitting down with him, just to have long chats with him. I feel like, with this person, I want to be honest with my feelings and tell him how I feel. But I am still afraid. I'm unable to read him, and that makes me wonder how to act around him. I sometimes get so self-conscious I wonder if I'm acting unnaturally. I hide my nervousness extremely well, so I appear confident, but I also want him to notice that I'm nervous and a little shy around him. I want him to know that he affects me in ways no other people have in the past. I'm afraid that he doesn't see me more than a friend, afraid that he would stay away from me if I stupidly opened my mouth. Some people say I shouldn't say a ward, some tell me to just be natural. Many say to just go with the flow. I don't think I've ever felt this frustrated over a person before. But I'm afraid...afraid that I would repeat the same mistake I did back then. A mistake that cost me a part of myself. A mistake which took a long time to heal from.

Yet in all my fear, I sometimes would get glimpses of what it would be like to say it. I get the feeling that I want to be honest with him, even if I end up getting hurt in the end. Because I'm afraid of regrets, and I'm afraid of the me in regret. I want to say it to him, yet I can't find the right words to say. I feel like I can't breathe at times, and I feel so confused and lost at such moments. My head understands what's going on, but I can't seem to get my heart to agree. I want to say it to him, but I'm afraid that I don't mean what I say, and I don't want to say things I don't mean to say. I'm afraid that after saying it, the feelings will disappear, go away. That's why I tell other people first. And in my previous experiences, after I get it out there, after the initial high, it's over. I move on. My feelings change.

But not this time. The more I talk to people about it, the more deeply rooted the feeling becomes. The more I come to realise that I want to be his friend, be by his side...be someone that's important to him. And that throws me off guard so badly I don't know what to do with myself. I won't say I know myself 100%, but I thought I had a certain degree of self-awareness. But I didn't see this coming. I didn't expect the impact he would have on me. Now, I feel stuck because I feel compelled to tell him, and I can't hide my concern, I don't exactly want to. Yet I want to wait for him, to see, to gauge how he feels about me, because that way, I feel safer. I feel less exposed to the risk of rejection. Yet I don't know if I can hold it in anymore, because I feel as though it could burst out of my chest anytime soon. Is this really a crush? Do I just do what I always do - wait for time to tell? If I act as my heart tells me, would I regret it?

Letter to self #6

It's the first letter in 2013. Should I say I'm off to a start? It's a little rumination this time, without a sense of depression, that I suppose makes the difference in this particular letter. I make certain observations about myself most times, but I also do think I'm good at ignoring observations I don't want to see or be aware of. Someone recently asked me, "When reflecting about yourself, what makes you feel restless? Is your real self really that boring?"

I don't think it is, so I tried to go beyond that point where I start to want to wander off. Do things instead of think, instead of ruminate. I noted to myself today that if seasons were temperaments, what would I be? I think a lot of people would say I'm summer-ish. I thought I was summer-ish too. Full of activity and buzz, never quieting down...passionate, but sometimes brash and impulsive. I have a hot temper to boot, though no one seems to believe me.

But the times I really sit down and be with myself, and look into myself, this image isn't the one that comes up. Many people say I'm interesting or funny. I don't think I am. I'm actually quite serious, especially at work. I have certain beliefs and principles I want to uphold, sometimes no matter the cost. I take my work seriously, and I'm hard on myself when I fail to meet expectations, be they my own or others'. Most times, I take others seriously, but not in the humourless way. By seriously, I mean I believe what people say and do. I think this is partly tied to my naiveté. Some people may think it's foolish. Some may tell me it's outright stupid. But I choose to believe and trust others. I don't see how people can gain by tricking or deceiving me (this is excluding dangerous/threatening situations of course) except for the occasional entertainment value. If someone gets a kick from playing tricks on me...well, nothing 'cept my ego is harmed, and well, my ego can take a battering or two. This also means I take their words for more than their face value, so a lot of times, I found myself getting more than slightly pricked when they say certain things regarding my self. After enough pricks, I developed something of a guard regarding people's words, and turn their words into jokes, and bat myself over the head with it. This way, it becomes less of what they say about me than how I poke fun of myself. Since then, I've found that I'm more or less able to take whatever people have to throw at me. Not that a lot of people do that.

A true measure of how serious I originally am (in my head anyway) is in the way I see myself. I know I just said I portrayed myself as a joke sometimes to other people, and I appear positive (I AM positive) in many ways. I do however take myself quite seriously. Whenever I sit down to myself, I find my thoughts wandering to the mistakes I've made, the things I've said or done wrong, or things I thought I could have done better. No, this is not a typical beat-myself-up...rather, in the darkness of it all, I'm more able to find myself. I struggle a lot of course. One's self-esteem isn't exactly made to take regular beatings like this without a scratch. More often than not, I find myself sinking into the negative thoughts faster than I can dig myself up. And yes, it has filled me with doubt, despair...sometimes an intense dislike for myself. And yes, there are times where I wondered if a more useless or pathetic person could ever exist. I ponder about the things I say, wondering if I really meant to say them (most of the time, I do, simply on the basis I can't process my thoughts fast enough to lie). I often joke a lot, but I do it seriously, often slipping real feelings and thoughts into the jokes. I have a lot of fun, but I do it seriously, in the sense that I make sure nothing is interfering with my fun time. In a lot of ways, I do everything at 100% if I can help it.

So when I ponder about myself, many times, I started seeing myself in a light I didn't like. The parts I didn't want to admit to, fears I didn't want to say existed, insecurities I tried to ignore. I brush them aside, turn away from myself and look outwards. When I do that, I can run away from myself. By immersing myself with other people, I can look away from inside of me. I can take a lot of hurt, but it isn't because I'm strong. I think I take a lot of hurt, because sometimes I feel that I'm not that much of a worthwhile person, so taking some hurt shouldn't matter as much to me. It's a distorted way of thinking about oneself, yes...and I was made to realise it. Remember that time when someone told me "You really don't like yourself, do you?"? That was a real eye-opener.

It made me think deeply. I ask myself over and over again, "What do I really want?" While I haven't been able to separate thinking for others from thinking about my own needs, I like to think that there is a slight difference now. I used to be afraid of what people say about me. I think I still am. I used to really, really want people to like me. I still do, of course. It's only natural. But I've started thinking less about how to carry myself and just...carry myself, if that explains anything.

When I'm with people, I act like an overcharged battery. I'm bursting with energy and excitement and laughter. For some people, it's energising. For some people, as I so readily know, it can be terribly exhausting. It's a little complicated, but inherently, I try to avoid being alone, because a part of me is afraid that when I am alone, I would become the total opposite - sad, depressed, without energy or passion for anything. But certain circumstances in the last few months have forced me to be alone, or moved me away from surrounding myself with external sources of energy. And I had to look inside. A little digression at this point. Have you had the feeling that looking at the moon gives you this strange, sad feeling, but at the same time, it's very beautiful and serene? I get that every time I look at the moon. Like the autumn season, the moon has a special meaning to me, because every time I look up and stare at the moon, a very specific feeling wells up in me. It's a feeling of wonder, and beauty and mystery...but there is also a little solitude and sublime sadness. I get a sense of emptiness when I stare at the moon, but I also feel very content with that emptiness. When I look at the moon, I sometimes get the feeling that I am alone, but I feel all right to be alone in that moment.

Lately, when I look inside, I see the moon inside. I can see the parts of me that make me miserable, that make me sad, and make me want to run away. Then I stop, and I think about the moon. What is it about myself that makes me miserable and sad? What don't I like about myself? Why can't I be content with that part of myself? I've started asking those questions...and to my surprise, I sometimes find that I can actually be content with having certain parts of myself. I know that certain parts of myself fill me with a sense of solitude, perhaps even a little emptiness...but there are times I am able to accept that solitude. I've come to be able to admit to myself that yes, I feel lonely, and it's all right to feel lonely. I've come to be able to say to myself that I don't like this person, or I was really hurt by something that was said or done to me in the past. It doesn't always work, and I usually feel bad the first few times I try. But I've been practicing, so here's to hoping for a deeper self-reflection.

So really, at my core, I really do think I'm more autumn, because the point where I feel most connected to myself is when I sink into the growing darkness. It's at that time, when I feel the creeping cold, that I feel most deeply, spiritually connected with who I am, and I find that with every step I take into the darkness, the closer I move to the light of who I am. I am at my most contemplative, most vulnerable...and I have the most potential for transformation in those moments, to find ways to better understand myself, and be a better person. I have my fair share of trial by fire, and I do think I do quite well in those trials, but I think I forget that there are different kinds of trials, and these moments of lingering between the light and the dark are important reminders of the things I have yet to face within.