Happy Birthday Sabrina.

Happy Birth….

Oh fuck that.
There’s nothing good about this day.
The moment of conception people wanted me dead
My face was the picture of a stranger
My body, the temple of no one
My life, the symbolism of mistake
My soul, the cry of agony
What is there to celebrate?

She’s not here and I haven’t heard her voice in months
But our memories still echo within
There’s only her rocking back and forth inside my head
This was OUR day and it will forever be
Even if she does kiss someone else while I’m saving myself
Why should I be thankful?

Time doesn’t forgive
And she doesn’t forget
Love doesn’t regret
And she doesn’t look back

I guess in time she will forgive me
But I won’t forget
That love wasn’t our destiny
Even if I never left…

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Lucid Living

Anyone who has a mental disorder knows that when you get even a day without it, the world is different. I have these bouts of lucidity and I realize just how fucked up/simple my life has been. A lot of times, it doesn’t matter how hard you try. Your mind will not let you see anything other than what you’ve been living with. I have grown up saying I’m “strange”, “weird”, “abnormal”, “crazy”, etc. I certainly am but before that was a family running joke, now it’s just a reality. I sit in my room sometimes and I think about all the little hints I gave to my family about my depression, anxiety, sound disorder, etc. I just didn’t know I was giving them hints. It’s really hard for people to see disorders unless they are in their extreme. Sure, I could have killed myself. Sure, I had panic attacks. Sure, I stopped eating at the table…But I was such a soldier that I followed orders and blended in with the crowd of people that were nothing like ME.

The anti-social child that I was always comes up. I was the kid with resting bitch face who everyone and their mother wanted to say hi to. I didn’t want to and often didn’t say hi back. I realize now, that 1. Yes, I had sort of a bad attitude. 2. It was anxiety! I was legitimately afraid of people. If I sat there and reminded my family members of the things I used to do, they would see now where all this mess of a person comes from. In one particular instance, my mother caught me crying in her room. I hated talking about feelings(even then!). But she wouldn’t let me get out of the room until I told her what was wrong. This single moment told her point blank about my anxiety and my depression. It’s just not a conclusion a mother in a third world country with no education comes to. I told her I was thinking about death, why people die, if there’s a god, that I didn’t want to die but at the same time I did and that I worried….all the time because I didn’t want my thoughts to be true in any way. The same way that sentence ran is the same way I told her about this. I was crying the entire time. Adult me almost wishes she could back and tell my mother to look at me. I mean really look at me. I feel like she felt like I was catching adult conversations and that’s why I was thinking that way.

I had always been known as the kid who was born grown up. I had to be taught social cues(no surprise there), but at the same time I always knew how to read people. My mother prided herself in being my mother. I was the smart kid, the kid who was diligent, the kid who never needed a beating and never talked back. She just didn’t know that half of my behavior came from being scared and sad. I don’t know. My birthday is coming up and I’m having one of those days…where life just hits you. I’m not particularly sad, just thoughtful. Drowning dramatically in the sea of me. xD

Sleep Deprivation & Depression

I’m feeling it. I hate it. I hate feeling sleepy and feeling that gloomy feeling I know so well. It’s like that feeling that you get when someone you don’t know is walking behind you. Science can’t really explain it and I can’t really explain how I know I’ll be getting depressed soon(or already am) but I know. My room is starting to get messy again and partly that’s due to the fact that I’m tired all the time. If I had an illness whose only symptom was fatigue, I would die. Let’s just put it that way because being tired is like part of me. I don’t feel like I’ve had a good night’s rest since I came to this country. But anyways, back to the room situation. I can keep my room clean but most of the time now, I don’t. I don’t have the motivation to put things in their place, not to mention I like things to be laboratory clean or trash can dirty. Both satisfy me but depends on my mood.

My mood lately has been “fuck it” with a dose of “check everything”. So basically it’s like a person that litters and then goes back and picks it up. It’s very comical. I don’t know where I get like this from exactly but life is just stressing me out. I want to do things but I have no money for them and I have no career plan. I. The Planning Beast. Has. No. Career Plans. I still haven’t contacted an air force recruiter to see if the U.S. government would be so kind as to let me enroll. I read somewhere that a very low amount of the U.S. population is able to be in the military. This is mostly due to health conditions and health related problems that can’t be waived.

Anyways, I’m all over the place. I hope I can figure this out some time soon, so I can sleep.