Walk with me, talk with me.

Re-evaluation

*Beware; the following post includes self-bashing in order to relieve stress. This method is not healthy and should not be followed unless you have as little brain cells as the poster.*

Cry, cry, cry.

That’s all that’s ever been done. Nothing comes from it. Wherever is the proud strength that’s been in the family for generations? Wherever is that solid spirit, the sharp mind and steely heart?

All I see in myself is a broken doll, moving along on splintered, broken arms and legs, twisted beyond what is possible.

SO WEAK.

Always so scared, always so worried, so paranoid. What is it this time, success? Money? Love? There is none for the coward I see. None at all. If all you can do is sit, think, cry and do nothing, then that is all you will ever be.

NOTHING.

You have anger, do you? Where is it?

Where is that seething rage you claim is burning?

Where is the maddening screams that is the grating of your nerves, way beyond the limits of your patience?

All I can see are more tears. And more silence.

Attention? Why on earth would you want that? There is none for you, away with you. I’ve never seen a more pitiful existence. Clinging from one arm to the other, when will there ever be a time that you stand for yourself? There are many years ahead of you. Use them to stand up.

It’s understandable how you see yourself so lowly, so miserably. How you’ve no power, no strength, no form of attraction. If there is such an existence as pitiful as that, it would have to be another you.

“People are better off without me.”

“I’m not needed.”

“I… am not what people think I am.”

Shut up and listen to yourself, fool. If you think being an isolated creature that watches the world from afar and is satisfied with that is ideal, then what is the use of your life thus far? It’s no wonder that thoughts of ending yourself is abundant. Methods of ending yourself as far as the eyes can see.

You shouldn’t be here. No. You should be in an asylum somewhere. Far, far away from civilisation. Where only you understand yourself. You’ve always thought that people don’t understand you, right?

You’ve always thought that you’re always the awkward one in the conversation, so afraid to talk, so afraid to share your opinions, because you’re afraid that people would think you queer, boring, think you so horribly useless.

That’s why you just sit there and stay silent, isn’t it. That’s why you’ve decided that you were a robot. A robot leading a programmed, monotonous and repetitive life. Dragging one day to the next, each day making you feel even more unworthy of this place.

Has the multiple blows of humiliation really struck you so hard? Is your fear of failure so hard? Or have you forgotten that failure is the mother of success?

Rather… you chose to deny that failure brings any good.

You chose the fact that you were a disgrace to the family, a good-for-nothing.

Thats why you hide away, behind those walls, masks and screens. Writing, playing, listening, but not doing the talking or working.

Where you should have taken credit, you let it pass.

Where you would do relatively well, you claim you haven’t the skill, the expertise.

How much more foolish can you get, Khalilah?

Apologizing to me so many times for whatever mistakes you felt you’ve done isn’t going to make anything better. If you have the time to apologize, why not go out there and make a someone out of yourself instead of being someone’s burden.

The knight you pine for will not stay in one place. You know he will move on. You know it. So very well.

“It’s fine, he’s happier there,” you say.

I say you are too naive. Stay as you are, and trust me when I say you will die a lonely, pathetic woman.

This personality you call ‘Kay’, it’s pathetic. Change is what you need.

Into what?

To be honest, anything is better than being you.

.

97% of teens ( and middle-aged women) would cry if they saw Edward Cullen on top of a skyscraper about to jump. If you’re one of the 3% who would sit there eating popcorn, screaming, “DO A FLIP, YOU SPARKLY BITCH!” then reblog this.

nadmalek:

over-cloud9:

raaainbows:

sarahbeliebs:

ohmyfishballs:

lovelyarms:

deira: livinginrhythm:jamiratard

So true. I can’t stand the guy.

I’m still waiting for him to do a flip, juggle some woks with fried rice in them, swallow a sword and do a perfect dive into a cup of water. I’M WAITING, CULLEN. PICK UP THE PACE.

Exist

I am conflicted. Or maybe just confused.

I am born into a wonderful, loving family. I have (what I know to be) the best parents who raised me to be someone who has a brain, has the capacity to use it the best I can and has endured hardships to get where I am.

They have also given me an amazing older sister and an irreplaceable younger brother whom I love with all my heart. 

I’ve walked this planet for twenty-one years (as of this entry) and I’ve considered myself someone who ponders a lot, and sees things in a rather strange view. I’d like to think that very few people see what I see, or think the way I do. I’d like to think that by doing this, I can see easy solutions or discover other means that I can help the family with. 

After all, I didn’t plan to just rely on my parents for the rest of my life. 

I understand that all good things come to an end. All the time I’ve spent under my parents’ wings, I will have to put behind me at some points. As people around me have mentioned, I will have to ‘leave the nest’.

I also understand that my path extends farther, there is more to life for me to explore, as my sister has told me many times.

But sometimes, I wonder if I was meant to discover them.

Twenty-one years spent alive, and I wonder how many days spent here was worth it.

From the day I could understand the works of the world, what makes things go round, what it meant to be someone in society, the food chain, everything. From the day I could process any of the annoying pieces of work, I wondered just where I would be?

I hate competition, but at the same time, I hate it when people get it better than me. I can’t help getting competitive. 

As such, I can’t accept the fact that after much pondering, I’ve discovered that in society, and even at home, I was more of ‘just another face’. Just… some random person. 

Insignificant.

I can’t accept it. I wasn’t born into a well-off, successful and loving family just so I could be another face in the crowd. There MUST be something I can do.

That’s what I made myself believe. I’d drive myself on self-hatred, searching for things I could possibly do to be someone people could remember, someone respectable. Someone… successful.

After several years, my pursuit for attention and recognition dulled and I was content with what I did with myself, content with just being me. 

However, within those few years, my sister went and got herself a job. I was only three years younger than her and was still studying in high school, but I felt vexed. Vexed because she got a shot to be recognized sooner than I could.

Vexed because her job was no ordinary job.

I hated her because she was a pilot for the local commercial airline. It got more unbearable for me when people all around her started ‘polishing their apples’. Or, something I’d like to call ‘Grade-A ass-kissing’.

Now, it didn’t take me long to get over the initial hating. I can’t hate my sister forever. It just wasn’t right. Moreover, I should’ve been glad that she got the job. At least dad didn’t have to work as hard, seeing that she earns quite a sum. It made our lives easier too.

I made myself feel better thinking this.

But what ugly scab a bandage hides will be revealed when the bandage is removed. I started feeling angry again, especially after I failed to get the required grades to get into the local university and wound up signing up for an engineering college. It was totally out of my calculations.

If I’d gotten a place in the university, I could have graduated sooner and gotten a job faster. 

But why the hell was I taking a lot longer to graduate by entering another school and starting from scratch!? It made no sense!

I didn’t deserve this. 

I spent MONTHS thinking this. I hated being in the engineering college, initially. During orientation, I scared my seniors by outright refusing to do their embarrassing bidding (they asked me to sing and dance while wearing a black trash bag as a ‘cape’) , glared at everyone in the room and told them that I wanted to spend as little time as possible in the hellhole, get out and leave them behind. 

I could tell I wasn’t well-liked after that. I didn’t aim to be liked. I didn’t want people the likes of them to like me. 

To date, I’ve spent a year in that college. The experience was nice, I’ve learned a lot, and it surely calmed me down. I still can’t forget my goal though. I still can’t see myself getting any nearer to the rank my sister is in.

My sister is a beautiful, intelligent, witty, cheerful and extremely talented lady pilot with a petite, but nice figure and caucasian features. Not to mention a good sense of humor.

And what am I?

A lumbering hulk standing at 170cm tall and weighing in 80kg who can’t earn enough to live independently, a face like thunder which can pass for a terrorist’s and a sense of humor as dry as the Sahara desert.  Talent is questionable to dumb luck or lucky flukes, figure is quite non-existant and has a man’s feet. 

It’s no wonder how only a handful of people know me after knowing this, isn’t it?

To that handful of people… 

I’m glad to know you. And I will forever treasure the friendship we have.

You all gave my existence a meaning.