Breakups

Crushing loneliness is realising that both of your past relationships began with sex, progressed into romance due to their feeling obligated to your growing love/emotional attachment to them, and ended with the first breaking up on your 8th month saying he was too young to be tied down but has been with his current for 2 years, and the second landing you with depression and anxiety that have not faded 2 years since.

Crushing loneliness and agony is realising you were single for about 3 months between the two relationships, and have been single for 2 years since the last. Many around you are on their way to marriage, have started their careers. While you’re here single, jobless, and lonely.

Crushing loneliness, agony and helplessness is when you have friends who love you and you love back, but you can’t meet cause some days you just can’t bring yourself to be around other people. It’s seeing loving couples and feeling so jealous a disgusting green bitch comes out, playing off as “sassy”. It’s being afraid to start work for equal fear of achievement and failure. It’s sleeping late, waking late, lists that never get fulfilled and projects started but not continued. 

Crushing loneliness, agony, helplessness and frustration is applying to jobs since January, trying out dating apps, avoiding sex and unhealthy emotional relational attachments for 8 months now, going on dating apps, starting 2 creative projects, getting a 3 month freelance job, a test for a potential job, being on the waiting list for the final interview of another potential, and still be clueless. Not knowing why I’m in this state, where I’m supposed to go, what I need to do.

Why I’m not loveable enough to be wooed.
My friend told me to stop thinking about what I can do for someone to love me, but love myself and let whoever deserves me appear when the time is right.

It’s hard when I have control issues, anxiety and depression. When I find it hard to believe I can be loved by someone. Hurt by men, friends or not, with me just a body to so many, and when it was more, dropped because I wasn’t what they wanted me to be, because I couldn’t give them what they needed. They weren’t perfect, but I feel like I wasn’t good enough.

How do I get out of this quicksand, leaving me waist deep with nowhere to go, affixed and trapped? How do I find a job, my passion, my love?

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Mind state.

Desperate for love

Dejection from rejection

Agony from disdain

Sadness with solitude.

People pleasing, pleasure pursuit.

Addiction and impulsiveness.

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Short on its way

Hi readers,

So if you’ve been following me for a while, you might have seem some posts with the title Escapade.

They’re an ongoing series of my dreams, usually the extremely poignant or fucked up ones that I remember well enough upon waking to record down.

Well I’m planning to take some of them and translate it into a short story. It’s going to tie in with my ideas of life, dreaming, alternate universes & realities, and consciousness.

It’s a work in progress. I’ve been ruminating on these separate chunks for a while now, but it’s only just hit me as a whole story idea. While showering, of course.

So watch this space. Might take a while though.

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Jesus wept

two words

Jesus wept

I wept
I am weeping
the beauty of music is its ability to

shock our soul into
recognition of mortality

connection, flimsy contact

shaking and trembling
tears dripping
heart breaking

stiff and agonising realisation
mortal prison of flesh
the soul she cries

for she can not escape and mingle with her fragments
swirling with the universe

trapped shard in meaningless structures
false identities and constructs.

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Reaction

joji’s you suck charlie

swirling grey matter
drippings of glittery galaxies
sharp sweet shrapnel in each breath

shooting pains from between her tips
crackled brushes from those lips
staring down needles full of rust and iron

beautiful entitled whine
bloated cheeks and liver
spotted mottled jaws

 

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Propranolol

PropranoLOL more like

way less empty, blank stares muffled words
more loopy smiles, bad jokes and mumbled speeches

feels good man, eyyyyyyy
slow 2 fingers typing and knowing people might withdraw

people have Got to be weirded out
and goddammit shut the fuck up and go and fuck yourself bruh
i need to claw the fuck out of your fucking eyeballs

matttttyyyyyyy ayyyyyyyyyyyy get dat lobster roll.
gurlllll i bet you all up in dis, boyyyyy you know you wanna date the heck outta me

stop chirping fucking crickets

breathe inandouttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
but also…in…??????omgbreatheinnowcause you’regonnasuffoca

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

should I pop another? raise a hand.

and stop cause i don;t need your allowance auyyyyyyyyy

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Depression as a woman

Imagine feeling empty, sad, hopeless, worthless, directionless and lost.

Anxious and panicky, sensitive to lights, sounds and casual words.

Couple that with monthly intense mood swings, tears that flow easily, body aches and exhaustion, need for sleep throughout the day, aching back and swollen breasts.

Now your emptiness and loneliness is heightened with the consistent flow of blood and unfertilised eggs.

My brain becomes a ticking alarm clock reminding me it’s time for my pill again.

Its choice of alarm tune?

The urge to pop handfuls of pills, to get knock out drunk, to do something, anything to mute the mind and feelings. She doesn’t scream at the back of my mind anymore, but her toxic breath fogs the brain in the meantime.

Up till I take that little pill and go to bed. Things are better when I wake up. But in between, there’s no guarantee what the subconscious will unleash on my sleeping mind.

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Understanding my fear of abandonment

Let’s break it down.

Fear of abandonment.
Afraid to be left behind, to be left alone, to be alone.
To be ignored.
Fear of neglect, silence, disregard.

Fear of a lack of care and concern.
Fear that I am unloved and unwanted.
Fear that I am not worth

attention
attraction
affection

Panic sets in with a fog of fury,
rage and discontent,
outrage and offence,
disbelief and shock.

Worry and anxiety
leading to a need for control
to “get them back”

win them back

their attention and attraction back
putting me once again at number one,
the only one,
nothing should precede me and what I mean to them.

Clingy, desperate, eager to please
yes yes yes to everything just to get a positive response,
to know I am wanted and desired again.
With that, I am therefore kept.

I won’t be alone and tossed aside and made worthless,
useless,
not worth time and effort or love.

Nothing else matters but them behaving as I wish them to be,
or even just how they were talking to me a couple minutes ago.
Even if I was the reason for the change in tone

because I suggested we slow things down
and they just leave me because I don’t want them

and they oblige instead of disagreeing and fighting for me

if they Do fight for me, they appear clingy and I get disgusted.

Ironic.

But when I do it, it’s the only thing that I can do. I can’t focus on anything else but trying to “get them back” and get things back to how they were, to being wanted and loved, to having them text me.

I don’t care that it’s 2am now compared to the 7pm then. That they have work tomorrow or are busy right now, even if they are showering. If they aren’t replying, that means they don’t want me anymore and they might even hate me and are going to ignore me and give me the silent treatment and pretend I do not exist.

 

 

My mom gives me the silent treatment and pretends I don’t exist when she’s angry at me.

When I do something wrong, my parents tell me what a disappointment I am, that their years of bringing me up was for nothing because I ended up like this. It was a waste of their time and effort raising me up, useless to have done anything to have loved me.

They said cruel things like I am the worst child, that I am nothing if my mother dies, that they won’t care if I live or die and I can go and die for all they care.

When they get angry at me, I feel like the worst, cruelest human being on earth, that I don’t deserve to have lived and I am evil. Ungrateful, evil, worthless, not worth being looked at or talked to, mentioned by name or acknowledged as a living being. I become nothing. Ranted about in the third person behind closed doors but with loud petty voice who intend for me to hear everything, yet not worth the effort nor for my existence to be acknowledged by even talking about me in front of me and having me be seen.

 

I would watch as they argued and my dad would blame my mom saying she was at fault for everything, while she told him how useless he was.

I listened and took it in too, because it would be used on me too, the same words. Taught not to get a man like my father, here are all the things NOT to get in a man. Anyone who looked at me and called me beautiful and took what I told them, repackaged and gave it back to me, paid me a smidge of attention, was worth my world. Sad.

I accepted these guys though I knew they weren’t good people or healthy for me because I accepted that my worth was that of being second choice. Never first. That’s why all the married men. Justifying with open marriages is but a weak way to assert my false self-worth to stubborn ol’ me. That’s why till now, part of me thinks that my exes’ breaking up with me because I wasn’t worth being the only one when he was still so young, and not talking to me for a whole week (radio silences) because studies > talking to me, which he felt were tedious like updating his life to a jail warden, are somehow justified.

Why should I be afraid to have them not text back or initiate conversations, to have other people in their lives that aren’t me, or not prioritize me over every and anything. That’s so needy. So dependent. I am worth so so much more.

It’s just not apparent enough to myself just how much I’m worth though.

 

Gotta fix the two of them. Self-worth tied to fear of abandonment, and I have to work on them or I will fall forever into this tar pit of murky, cloying desperation and fear, neediness and full-blown panic attacks, extreme behaviours and controlling habits.

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An Argument for Being Fat

I am fat.

Now some of you might call me curvy, and others might call me plump. The Mandarin speaking folk would call me 丰富 or abundant in English.

But I know my weight vs height and I know from the clothes that are too tight. I am fat. And while it’s not good for my health, it’s done wonders for my esteem.

Back when I lost a ton of weight and could fit tight clothes, my outward fit bod was but a vessel for my insecurities and self hatred to manifest. My exercise and makeup and clothing did not belong to me, but to the desire for male attention. My body, free from cellulite, was not free from the shackles of disrespect for myself. 

I gave myself to boys and men, gave my heart and mind to any who wanted a toy. I was a prey but a cruel predator as well, sex driven, or rather sex manipulative. All I wanted was to be loved, because I needed to not be unloved. I was hurt and I hurt. The cycle continued.

But then, came 2016. I made mistakes still up to the middle of the year where the weight started to pile on as the pressures of joblessness coupled with staying at home daily took over. After that, an intense 3 months of work that went from chronic diarrhea to binging for relief. 

Now I stand heavy. But confident. I worked for money but left with experience. Working world experience. Skills acquired from necessity and desperation. From responsibilities.

I knew my worth as a worker. Somehow that led to realisations about my worth as a person. As a woman. As me.

Boys and men alike were cast aside when they knew only of games and touch. No longer did I spare a second nor a thought on frivolous attention when my own were occupied with the career ladder. I moved on to a wider view on life, and moved away from childish perspectives on self love.

But what has this got to do with being fat, you say? Well I allowed myself to grow fat because I was moving away from seeing my body as the first point of notice for men. I allowed myself to expand because I indulged my cravings and tastebuds for me, and no one else. I gave myself permission to be lazy because I acknowledged that this body and its health is my own, not for the pleasure of others.

And perhaps now that I’m more self aware and appreciative, I will start to get back in shape and watch my health. But because I am fat and still love myself and my body with all its creases and lumps and stretch marks and bulges, when I am fit and trim and healthy and strong, I will love myself just as much. 

The attention of others will no longer factor in this strictly confidential relationship between myself and I.

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December

It’s the day after my birthday.

No expectations were had and thus I had probably one of the best birthdays ever. Went to the botanical gardens with my ex colleagues and drank mojito, ates chips, talked (read: screamed) about sex and overall just had a ton of fun.

Went for dinner with them then came home and slept.

It’s been an interesting December.

After 3 months as the content marketing manager and PR manager at a wee startup with a boss who doesn’t know how to run or talk business, nitpicks and is incredibly rude, we find out he didn’t get the investment he’d promise would come in; that that was the only investment the company was banking everything on; that our boss got a new investment late in November and decided thus to reject an offer by a shareholder to take up over 40% of the shares where in return they would hire us all and pay off all his debt. Thus, I lost my job. And haven’t been paid for the last 2 months.

But, I’m waiting to hear from CAAS about the ATCO position, which I really really want because unlike marketing, it makes sense. I’m not manipulating people to buy something that they didn’t necessarily want. I’m helping land planes and make sure planes take off safely, ensuring people get to their families and loved ones all around the world. 

It’s interesting also because I think I’ve grown up quite a bit in the past 3 months. With my focus on growing my career, I’m no longer hung up on the need for “love”, or rather Attention. In this period of waiting, I’m bored and thus downloaded tinder, but now I’m bored of it too cause unlike the past, I no longer need the attention to feel worthy. I know I am. Working gave me that confidence when I saw my ability to grow and take on challenges in 3 months, and I saw my natural talkative self blossom in PR and networking and business development. It was fascinating, confidence building and so very encouraging.

I’ve also cut down on my pills, down to 1 every 4 days and my mood isn’t actually bad between those 4 days. The weight gain with these pills are a little crazy tho, so I’ve been focusing more on my diet. But this lazy girl ain’t working out like she should, so there’s that to work on.

Got a freelance writing job so at least I’ll have some disposable income until I get the job offer and confirmation, up till February when work begins.

I haven’t written in a while. Maybe I’m too bored but there’s nothing for me to really write about. Nothing seeking escape via dreams or words. 

I do miss writing though, so perhaps I’ll start a mini challenge of writing everyday till Christmas day. 

Hope everyone is doing well this festive season, and that y’all are surrounded by loved ones and loving ones.

Lotsa love, Aziel

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