I can do everything on my own.
They need me more that I need them.
I don’t need your help.
I don’t need you.
The moment you utter any of these statements. That’s your pride talking. If you think this statement is wrong, that’s pride and denial.
People can’t exist alone. We need other people no matter how much we deny that fact.
how does one know if they are in the right place?
Lately, I’ve been constantly asking myself if this is really what I want to do?
And is it here that I really want to stay?
I have considered this place as my home. This is the only place
I felt connected with. That perhaps is the very reason why I opted to work here.
These past months however, disappointment and disillusionment became a regular companion.
Came self-doubt, irritation, anxiety, and being alone.
Will this still be me in a few years time? Disillusioned and alone wallowing in self-doubt?
That, I don’t want to be. But do I need to live to avoid that future?
Everything just feels so loose. It’s like losing control of all threads of your life that you once kept neatly braided – organized. Now it’s all tangled and no matter how I try to calmly untangle everything – I just end up beaten by temper.
Everything in disarray. I just hope I get the time to get my life organized once more
– just enough to keep me sane.
welcomed by emptiness when one goes home
that silence when you hold your breath
that space beside you when you sleep
a mirror to keep you company.
one longs for that warmth
the steady breathing of a life lulled
that presence of confirmation
a laughter echoing yours.
one wants to wake up in that embrace
to stare endlessly wearing a fool’s smile
to sleep pretend remain time a froze
unwilling from sleep to rouse.
and then turns into hate.
from heart to heart hate jumps
leaving sons of hate and hate.
and then turns into hate
and from soul to soul
a son hate leaves.
and then hate becomes hate
until no more hearts nor soul
is free of hate anymore.
where then is it to go?
with hate-free hearts and souls no more?
hate then hates more
and the the hate that hates more hate more
until one cannot hate anymore.
what then becomes of hate?
in the hearts and soul hate remains
’til both tire of hating
unable to hate more,
then hate meets forgiveness
the heart then manages a smile
alas the soul lives once more
that – or one dies a wasted life on hate.
Perhaps it’s because of February
or just the cold
or perhaps the rain
or the stiff mattress I recently bought
or the habit of buying mugs, bowls, etc in pairs
or the sudden vastness of the closet in the room I transferred to
or perhaps because I’m twenty-two.
It dawned on me
I have been living alone on my own
for almost two years.
of having no one to come home to
of not having anyone to confide to
of watching DVDs
of eating breakfast
of waking up
It tests one’s sanity being torn between finishing a task one hates doing and just having that rest the I believe a person needs to function efficiently. Problem is, if I choose to sleep, I’ll wake up feeling guilty and eventually hating myself for giving in to the mañana habit.
On the other hand, if I do force myself to work and attempt to finish the task, I do know I’ll end up revising the whole thing after getting that “Aha!” moment.
This REALLY sucks. And the fact that I know I’ll feel guilty about this post after receiving the pay for this task doesn’t help.
Had the weekend off.
Now, why can’t I help feeling guilty? When I decided I’d spend the weekend not doing anything work related, I felt I deserved to have the weekend off. At the time, I believed I did. Now, I’m starting to doubt that.
I felt I had too much rest and I feel guilty – now I feel more guilty. My boss just walked in and I forgot what she asked me to do earlier this afternoon. She ended up doing the task herself. Funny thing is, I still can’t remember what she asked me to do. My guilt meter just soared.
How does one set limits between work and rest? When does one deserve to indulge? When should you feel guilty and undeserving?
I feel like – I know – I always overdo things. I overwork, overindulge, and feel more guilty than I should. Now I’m over analyzing.