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hazeeeeeeeeeeeeeel · 6 years

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Happiness

I want to write about happiness in general as a series. For most of my life I could say that I have been pretty damn happy. But lately throughout the past few years I seem to have lost my touch with it. I hope that in writing this series full of my thoughts, anecdotes, and past experiences, I am able to reclaim where I left off mentally and emotionally. This is the final chapter, Chapter 6.

Today

Loss, Regret, Comparison, Goodness, Friendship. When did I realize I wasn’t happy? Well, I mean I was unhappy as a state of emotion for quite some time throughout college and through today but for most of the time I thought that was because I was just in general unhappy. But by writing this series, I realized that this perpetual state was more than fleeting emotions taken by each moment, each snap of my life. I experienced loss in regards to my happiness and I wasn’t okay with it. Losing happiness bothered me so much because having it was something I cared about so deeply. In fact, I think we all care about it almost more than anything. In some shape, way, or form we yearn for happiness in whatever means that it applies to us. Regret? I regretted so much that I lost my happiness. See, these two work hand in hand but they’re quite different and I feel like this ought to be examined a bit more.

With losing happiness, it’s the individual feeling that I care so much about it and that I’m not okay with not having it. But regret is a bit different because regret comes as a consequence of our actions. I’m not saying I regret being unhappy, but rather I am in fact saying that I regret that I lost my happiness. Because the former has to do with a state of emotion, whereas the latter has to do with that I have made actions although unbeknownst to me at the time that directly influenced how I perceived my state of happiness. And regretting this loss of happiness only taught me that I must do whatever I can do ensure that I don’t feel this way ever again. Which brings me to comparison.

There are times without a doubt that I felt inferior to others. Always. Even today I struggle with my own acceptance but it has gotten better. Because when coming to the grips of how I lost happiness and how I regretted it, I came to understanding that in my journey to do whatever it takes to come back to it, that is something only I can do. No one else can tell me that my life isn’t best suited for me. That’s something I have to be responsible for. And accepting that uplifts my heavy heart knowing that there indeed is a solution and that no one else can find it except for me. It gives me self importance as well as self empowerment.

In my journey for finding happiness, I often thought do I even deserve it? The questions I asked in “Goodness” come to mind. Do good people do bad things? Does doing bad things make a good person bad? And is there atonement for good people doing bad? And I think there is indeed atonement. In whatever belief system you live under, there is some sense of atonement to live by. Yeah I did a terrible thing in keying my friend’s car, and maybe I paid the price in not only literally paying the price, but also letting Stacy go because of my own internal conflicts and promise to stay out of Sherry’s life, but also perhaps the case with the false rape accusations and rumors that spread were my punishment for something so cruel that I did to Sherry. But the most important question regarding goodness is whether or not I felt if I deserved to be happy because that’s a trait ought to be reserved for good people. So am I good? Or am I bad? “Friendship” gave me the answer. When my friends either didn’t focus on the rumors or even heard them directly and adamantly chose not to believe it because they believed in me, they’re not believing in a bad person; they’re confiding in the good that they see in me. And to put yourself out there to vouch for someone else is the ultimate vote of confidence. Having that from Ben against mostly all his members of the church and my own group of friends is so empowering because it does in fact answer whether or not I am a good person and it therefore translates to that perhaps happiness is something I do deserve no matter how I feel where I lie on the spectrum. Because when I remove my own judgments and my own biases, my friends are there to answer whether or not there is genuine goodness in me.

And if we can quantify happiness as a tangible means of existence, then I ought to be greatly shocked by losing it, I ought to be greatly motivated that I hated losing it, yet that I would be able to do everything in my power to get it back. If happiness is tangible, then the form that it does partake in its manifestation to me, only applies solely for me because we all have different forms of happiness that only we can individually say for certain that it is uniquely tailored for us and that comparing ourselves to others removes this specifically tailored happiness. And if happiness is tangible, then it’s something that is righteously appropriate that we deserve to be happy so as long as we live our lives with the right mentality and approach. Not by taking shortcuts, not by lying, not by scams or shortcomings, but by honest assessment of who we are, what we cherish, what we love, what we fight for. What is it that I cherish, love, and fight for? My friends. Because without them what is the point of life when you can only share your happiness with yourself? Rather just play a simulation or something because that’s what a selfish life would be right? And so today? I can adequately say that I believe I have a better grasp of happiness.

I want to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to read this. I plan on rereading this series on happiness over and over again for myself. It’s kinda funny that the framework for this series was done in the car. When I would be driving to places I just continued to talk to myself out loud over and over again trying to make sense of what I was going through. And through my own journey of struggling with happiness, it would mean the world to me if there are parts that are relatable for your own individual struggles whatever they may be. And if there’s anything that you can take away in a positive light from this series then that would mean the world to me that I have been able to share my journey with you within an adequate means. Writing this series hasn’t been the easiest. There are things I shared with people for the first time and there are vulnerabilities that I have openly placed in a public means of access. Moving forward, to those that have wronged me, I want nothing for them than for them to live their lives independent of me and that in the same way that I have wronged others and faced my own atonement, that they too may go through a similar time of repentance. Words are powerful and certainly with significance. Today I feel as if a giant burden has been uplifted in that these are words that not only have I rarely shared with others, but especially with myself internally. I have struggled at times to quantify my own values and how these values have influenced my take on life. For my future, I hope to never forget what it means to be happy. What values I hold dear, and that for anyone that meets me for the first time I hope that I would be a positive influence on their own lives with the short moments that may come to pass to be shared. There are no redos in life no matter how many times we press the pause button. Living the life I did up to this point wasn’t easy, but it certainly helped that I had friends along the way who helped me through. And for that reason, if I was granted a redo, I would never change anything with the exception of betting my life savings year after year on the SuperBowls. Because although there are my own faults and actions I so want to replace with other deeds in hindsight, everything happened for a reason and taking anything away means that I would be at risk for taking away the greatest friendships I have made over the years to this date and nothing is worth trading that for. After all, nothing in life worth having comes easy and nothing is too daunting for us to accomplish. Thank you reading.

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hazeeeeeeeeeeeeeel · 6 years

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Happiness

Friendship

I consider friendship to be the most important aspect of happiness and as such this will be the most personal piece I share with you. It’s pretty shit really. If anything I know it’ll make you upset as it continues to make me upset. It’s the key reason to why I have so much hate in my heart and it’s why for the vast majority of the time I absolutely hate being in Torrance and why I absolutely detest hypocrites, especially those who claim to be Christian. It’s why I absolutely hate a certain church by the name of TFPC from the top down. Their pastors, their leaders, their youth group. Every single one of them with the exception of one friend there. It’s the reason why I don’t make rape jokes and replace them with “fucking destroy” or something along the lines of that. It’s why I have no tolerance for people who have raped others, and why I have legitimately been reserved about who I am as a person when meeting new people because I ask myself “what did they hear about me?” On the positive side, it’s why I cherish my friendships more than anything and why I dedicate my life for those who have confided in me like I have in them. This is my most personal story - one that I don’t take lightly in sharing. And I think also, not letting this hatred go has ultimately gotten in the way of me being happy.

There are a few names we ought to be familiar with. For the first group of people, Paulina Nguyen, Sean Kim, and Elizabeth Kim. I met Paulina early in high school and we have been great friends from day 1. She was more on the emotional side and she confided in me as much as I did in her. We were great friends. Sean and Elizabeth used to date. Turns out it was a shitty relationship but I never knew that prior to meeting Sean. Sean and I were good friends from day 1 as well, I guess we just clicked. Elizabeth and I were also good friends who we met through a mutual friend. Sean and Paulina started dating.

The next name is a set by himself, Albert Huh. Albert and I were brothers in my church and we were really connected spiritually and had a bond that you could only experience in a church setting. We didn’t know each other for long, but when you cry together at a church retreat, nothing can take that away. Albert and Elizabeth were friends.

The next names are Tiffany Kim, Rachel Kang, Andrew Chae, Joan Lee, and Ben Lee. Tiffany and I were good friends and her brother was a pastor at my own church I went to. Rachel was a girl I hardcore crushed on my senior year of high school. She was a year older and during the time went to UC Berkeley. We would spend countless nights on Oovoo and check this out, I even chose to video chat with her instead of playing League. Andrew was someone who went to the same church as Tiffany, TFPC. We bonded through a church retreat and not like close as Albert, but still a bond was formed. Joan was similar to Rachel but in a friends setting. I didn’t like her, but we were good friends and it was pretty great. Lastly, Ben was a great friend of mine who also went to TFPC.

One day early in my junior year of high school, Sean and I are hanging out and Elizabeth asks me to hang out and I tell her that I’m hanging out with my friend and that she’s more than welcome to join so she did and bam ex boyfriend and girlfriend reunion. Kinda weird right? So everything seems fine and I found out then and there that Elizabeth and Sean used to date. We just all hung out for a short bit afterwards and then Sean says we should have a group hug goodbye so I wait for Elizabeth’s answer and she said sure so I was like okay. So we did. And then we went our separate ways.

Fast forward to my senior year, I meet Rachel and I become madly infatuated with her. And surprise surprise she ended up liking me back! I was pretty fucking stunned. It was crazy. This girl was a straight up 10. I was probably a 5 on a good day but to her I was a 10 and that’s all that mattered to me. We spent countless hours oovoo-ing and being awesome and when winter season hit we would spend our holiday nights going on walks and just being fucking great. I’m not sure how, but word got around and even my older brother says “yo what’s going on with you and Rachel?” And my cousin (who went to the same school as Rachel) then adds to the family dinner “yeah what’s going on? My friends are talking about it too” which is fucking crazy because mind you, at THAT time, I’m a senior in high school, my oldest brother was in Irvine, my cousin was at UCLA, so why the fuck are they concerned about what Rachel and I have going on? And I tell them “I don’t get why you would be concerned about it” (DAMNNNNN FUCKING TOLD THEM). I guess, when I knew Rachel was a 10, everyone else did so too. Point being, she was a fucking big deal right.

I go to a winter retreat with Tiffany and Ben’s church, TFPC. It was pretty great. Met Andrew there too. Point of this part of the story is meeting Andrew. I’ve known Tiffany and Ben for years and we’ve had great friendships, especially Ben. To THIS day I still keep in touch with Ben. Alright so I come back, and winter is over, back in school for spring. I’m just living my senior year in high school, enjoying life, talking to Rachel, and literally just waiting for graduation to end. And BAM! Graduation.

I didn’t go to prom. My senior year prom date who said yes to me eventually got asked by someone else and she was having doubts and so I was just like fuck it just go with Spencer if you’re going to feel this way why bother (plus it was like 450 bucks for the whole experience with tickets, dinners, and pictures, I was a poor family). We all hung out at my friend’s house after prom and Rachel texts me asking me how was prom. I told her I didn’t go (and mind you this is at 5:00AM) and she was like yo wtf happened so I told her and I also told her I honestly would’ve loved to ask you out to Prom instead but whatever shit happens you were in Berkeley and I didn’t know how to ask you online or through text and I felt like you would have been busy when you got back to Torrance (Berkeley semester schedule so she was in town during prom anyways so woops, I guess I should've texted her anyways). So she asked me if I wanted to get breakfast to which I played it cool and said sure but in my mind I was screaming like fucking goddamn yes I do want to eat breakfast with you. And this is important. The breakfast. To this day I wish I never fucking went. Not because of Rachel, Rachel was stunning as usual. Even on her bad days she was a 10. A real goddess. Rachel Fucking Kang. Fire. Stunning. Grab a dictionary and every positive adjective you got it. When we were walking out of the restaurant, I run into two familiar faces, Albert and Elizabeth. We say hi like old friends (mind you the last time I saw Albert was at my own church retreat and the last time I saw Elizabeth was my junior year while hanging out with Sean). Not wanting to keep Rachel waiting we make it quick and I get ready to drop Rachel off and so I did (even though Rachel asked me to breakfast of course I went to go pick her up, it’s just what you gotta do). I get back to my friend’s and my whole group of friend’s just crash and sleep because we’re tired as fuck. Unbeknownst to me, that morning was the start to the worst fucking time of my life.

A few weeks later, it’s graduation. Everything was good, my church group and I hung out after my graduation with the rest of the graduating class and after dinner we go to get some boba. And I get a phone call, random number, so I pick up. It’s Albert. He asked me, “Yo! Where are you at right now there’s something I need to fucking ask you and I’m like okay sure I’m at Bobaloca” and so he comes quickly, with a large group of friends. Being the guest of honor as the graduating class, my church group (various age range including younger middle schoolers) stick around and Chris, an older member asks me if everything will be okay because it looks sketch that a big group comes to find me, but it was Albert. And Albert was with our church, and he was with Chris spiritually too so Chris asked me and Albert if everything will be okay and so Albert and I both say yes and Chris knowing that something is going to go down decides to trust us takes his cue and takes everyone home. Then Albert opens, “Yo Ariel. You know you’re a brother to me. That time at retreat. Nothing can ever take away our bond. But when I heard what happened. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t fucking believe it.” I reply, “What did you hear?” He says, “my friend said you raped her” and I was so fucking speechless like What. The. Fuck. Did. I. Just. Fucking. Hear. type of speechless. And I tell him, “No. I didn’t.” He then says “she’s here today right there waiting in that car and she wants to meet you and she wants you to go on your knees and beg for forgiveness.” I’m sorta taken aback. Albert then says, “don’t worry. See that guy over there? He’s a brother to me. We’re here because we just want you to apologize but we’re going to make sure you don’t get hurt even though you probably deserve it so just fucking do it okay?” And there was anger and agony in his voice, but at the same time, there was compassion and love. I could tell he was just as devastated as I was. Sure enough Elizabeth walks out of the car in tears and crying.

So I get on my knees, I have an idea of what happened, and I tell her, “Elizabeth, I am so sorry for what happened to you but you HAVE to know I had no idea what was happening at the time and to me it was just a hug. You know me. You know I would never do that to you. And you know Sean, you know what he did to you in the past and that he would have done that there” Looking for words, in utter complete silence, even amongst Albert and his friends they thought an apology for forgiveness was coming out but it wasn’t. Why would I ask for forgiveness for a crime I didn’t do? And Elizabeth at a loss for words, was so emotional and she just started to walk away back to the car. Albert pulls me aside and says, “Hey, let’s go to my car and talk” So we do. Mano a mano. He says, “Did you really not fucking do it.” And I said to him with the utmost sincerity, “Albert. You have to know who that other guy was. He was Elizabeth’s ex boyfriend who abused her” and I told him their past. I then also said, “Look, you coming here and asking for my side first only confirms that you know the type of person I am and that I would never have done or take part if I was aware of what was going on.” He then breathed a heavy sigh. He says, “You’re right. I’m going to talk to her.” He comes back ten minutes later and says “Okay, just leave. Don’t make eye contact with anyone just take your car and go home.” So I do. Then as I’m walking out this crazy bitch (BY THE WAY, I RARELY CALL WOMEN THAT WORD. THERE ARE TIMES I SAY SOMETHING IS BITCHY, BUT ALMOST NEVER A BITCH) named Angela Jung comes out and says “OH IT’S THIS ‘ARIEL’?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK.” Because Angela and I knew each other personally. She screams “GET BACK ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES AND APOLOGIZE FOR RAPING ELIZABETH.” I look towards Albert, and I say “Alber-” but before I finished she gave me the biggest bitchslap in the history of bitchslaps. I begin to notice the crowd around me. Andrew Chae was there with some of his friends and I realize that no way he could have known the talk Albert and I had. So what does it look like to him right? Angela slaps me one more time. And she goes for a third and Elizabeth comes out of the car and screams, “STOP!!!! IT WASN’T HIM. HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING. IT WAS SEAN NOT ARIEL” And after a bit Elizabeth tells me, “don’t talk to me ever again I’m sorry but just go home.” So I left.

On my way home, Albert calls me. I pick up because at this point any talk with Albert is life or death. And Albert asks me for Sean’s number. I give it to him because you can imagine how fucking pissed I am that Sean molested Elizabeth during the group hug without me knowing only for me to take the fall in place of him because he knew they’d come for my neck first. Luckily Albert was the guy who did not anyone else. Later that night, Paulina texts me calling me a sellout and very harsh words but of course I could never relieve her because of course she’s going to trust her boyfriend over me seriously fuck Sean.

During the next few weeks in summer vacation, I notice that some things begin to change. Rachel stops talking to me at all, Tiffany ignores me from that moment on, Joan as well, and everyone just gives me the cold fucking shoulder. It is at this moment where I begin to talk about friendship. Fake friends, real friends, friends in general. Friends in specific. Just friendship. Then out of nowhere my friend Elle messages me asking me about how there’s a lot of talk at her church (She also went to TFPC) and about how I raped someone. And my heart sank. I’m just like oh fuck no because no shit Andrew ran his gossip as pussybitch fucking cunt mouth everywhere about something he had no fucking part in only seeing part of what happened (of course the bad part). I connect the dots and the dots were confirmed when another friend of mine told me about what Andrew was telling everyone he knew. It was pretty surreal in the worst ways possible. Especially damning because Andrew was on the praise team for his church - literally a leader of the church and of all people to spew bullshit? C’mon dude. Just fuck. If anything, especially with the relationship Andrew and I had, he ought to have been the first person to at least talk to me or even ask me what the hell was going on. But no. He chose to take the lowest way out, to go out of his way just to spice his own personal life. The worst part is that his friends and fellow “Christians” gravitated towards his stories as if they were a campfire in Moscow during the winter. Really fucking incredible. So I hated the church. And, I even began to despise the pastors as well. I do however hold a tremendous amount of respect for them so I didn’t take names on their part. But Andrew? Seriously fuck him. When I see Paul Ryan smirk on national TV when he robs from the poor and does it in the name of goodness, I see fucking Andrew with his truly ugly laugh. Not ugly in the sense of outer appearance, I don’t really think anyone is ugly in that regard, but ugly in the sense of blackness in his heart. It’s the fucking worst. To wear a veil of holy spirituality and then live the life of sin. Me? I know I’m not on a high horse at all, but at least come down to the swamp with me if you’re going to level me up behind my back with your pussybreath. As for the others?

I asked Rachel “do you honestly believe what happened?” No reply. I never talked to Rachel ever again. I asked Tiffany the same thing. She replied, at least she gave me the respect to reply and she says “Yeah I can believe it there were witnesses and Andrew said everything.” I told her “if you honestly feel the way you do, don't fucking talk to me ever again.” It’s been five years, we never talked since. I asked Joan, she never replied. I never talked to her again either. I then asked Ben, “do you honestly believe what happened?” And he said, “I was waiting for you to ask me so I wanted to ask did you do it?” I said “No.” He then said, “Then that’s all I need to know. You didn’t do it.” What a real fucking friend right there. Goddamn did that shit move me.

But what about my own personal group of friends? From high school that I graduated with that night my nightmare started? Gossip spreads like wildfire especially in the facebook era and I know for a fact that some of my closest friends had connections to the friends who spread the news that there was gossip about me going everywhere about how I raped someone and it was total bullshit. Yet, the most amazing part? No one even asked about it. And no one seemed to care about it. No one seemed to be bothered. Nothing changed in our friendships. I never spoke to them about it ever because similar to Ben, they had trust in me. They confided in me as much as I confided in them and that was all they needed. To have faith in me.

For this reason I love my friends more than anything. Not just because of this sole single event and how they responded, or rather not responded which in itself was a response, but the entire idea that they trusted me so much to have never let it become an issue. So think about this… In the darkest time of my life when I was losing friends left and right, front and back, top and down, these guys were the light in my life I needed. And that speaks volumes in the role my friendships play in determining my happiness. Just like how other people have the capability to bring me down, people too have the same capacity to bring me up. That was all I ever needed to move forward. I guess you can say that in bringing up my last blog post, the faith and loyalty that these good people had in people answers where I am on “goodness” right? To this day Ben’s response when I messaged him means so much to me. He grew up in that church where the rumours started. Ben was literally surrounded by people who hated me so much. Who thought I was despicable, a liar, and a rapist. But Ben always believed in me. That type of loyalty is powerful. My dad always taught me from a young age that the most you can ever ask for from anyone is loyalty. From a woman, loyalty counts as friends and as significant other. For men, loyalty comes from true friendship (to which I guess being gay counts too now). Looking back at this event I fucking hated how it all worked itself out. And I directed all my hatred especially towards Sean because he was at the root of all this. So I guess in conclusion to this highly sensitive topic… choose your friends well. There are those that I didn’t. The ones who stabbed me in the back. The Rachel Kang’s, Tiffany Kim’s, Joan Lee’s. I DO WANT TO CLARIFY that I don’t feel spite against Rachel, Tiffany, and Joan. From the notion that on their point of view, they truly had evidence that was in Andrew’s perspective verified because Andrew’s side of the story was true only to his eyes. It’s like if I saw someone kill someone else, I see only the murder. What I won’t see, is the self defense prior to it so I see murder and that’s completely fair. So to Rachel, Tiffany, and Joan? That’s fine. I still don’t believe they’re the type of friends to surround yourself with, but I understand their part and just frankly need to know what is done is done. Andrew Chae’s? A different story, still with the leniency that what he saw was considered his version of truth, but that as a representative in the Church and thus therefore for the religion, he had a moral responsibility to ensure goodness not bad. But Sean Kim? I can’t say words to describe how I feel about him but that the best thing is not revenge, but just to move away. Those type of people will only bring you down and the sooner you do away with them the better. They don’t deserve you. In reflection writing this, I’m just so amazed by how wonderful my group of friends are, to stick with me through something catastrophic as that, but not even to just stick through, but to have never let a rumor as powerful as that one bother them to begin with is incredible. See, you can go through a lot of shit, but when you have as friends as amazing as the ones I do, isn’t that where true happiness is found? In the goodness of truly great people who want to share that happiness with you? Thank you for reading.

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hazeeeeeeeeeeeeeel · 6 years

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Happiness

Goodness

Normally I start by writing a story about what happened in my past or something I can relate to. However, today I’m going to start differently because what I am going to write is about the worst thing I have ever done to someone else. And I want to ask the important questions first. Do good people do bad things, if good people do bad things then are they considered good people, do bad people do good things, and lastly, do bad people stay bad even if they do good? Please pay attention to the lack of double standard there. I think it’s clear how I feel about the prospective chances of bad people going good but I’m much more torn on good people doing bad things and whether or not they’re able to be considered good. For quite some time, perhaps my whole life even, I went by the notion of not caring what people do as long as they don’t hurt anyone else. And I broke that rule of mine during my senior year of high school.

Don’t ever bring my name up to Sherry in any way whatsoever. Don’t bring it up in discussing your day, don’t bring it up in discussing this blog, don’t bring it up at all. And you’ll know why after reading what I did.

My senior year in high school, she owed me 28 bucks and would always try to avoid me whenever the money was brought into discussion. If it was about talking about her day, then we would talk. When the money gets brought up, no more discussion. If it was me trying to spit game and telling her how beautiful her smile is, we would talk and she’d ask about my day. Then when the money was brought up, no more discussion. And so one night. I hit up two of my friends and I told them I was going to key a car and I asked them if they were down. They said yes. So we went to her townhouse and keyed the shit out of her car. Every single angle, every detail, every corner. Front, back, side, top. And that was the end of it. Of course she was devastated but she never brought it up in text. I didn’t know how long she knew for that I did it but she eventually called me out on it. After my freshman year in college, I got hired and was pretty stoked. Only then to open my phone to see a message from her boyfriend demanding that I pay up to fix the car because Sherry in her smallest tolerance for compassion wanted to show me mercy. So I worked all year long to pay her $2000 through the months while I paid for bills and living expenses going through college (bless thy soul for UC Merced being cheap as shit). So that’s what happened. Worst thing I ever did in my life and you should be shocked. Flabbergasted, absolutely disgusted that I did something so cruel to someone I used to call my friend over a petty $28 dollars.

Only five people know that I keyed her car. Of course Sherry, my two accomplices, her boyfriend, and my friend who wired her the money (I deposited money to his account and he would wire the money for me because I didn’t want my parents to track that I was wiring money every month). Pretty fucking bad.

And so I ask, where am I in this spectrum of good and bad? Because there are plenty of people who say that I am absolute scum because of another event that I will talk about next time, and there are some people who say I’m great. There are others who are indifferent, as well as some who rather not from what they heard about me.

So do good people do bad? Absolutely. Does that still mean they’re considered good people? That’s the tough question to think about. See I have this approach about a higher power… without speaking on religion directly, I believe in a sense of karma that is widely generalized in that good things happen to those that do good, and bad things happen to those that do bad. I think whenever something bad happens to me, is this life’s way of punishing me for what I did to Sherry and other bad things throughout that I have done? If i lie to someone, does that mean someone will lie to me in return in a way I wouldn’t know just like how the person I lied to didn’t know I lied to them? If I cheat on my homework, will I be screwed later outside of homework? If I steal food, will I have other things stolen from me? And so I find myself standing on a moral scale of where I am being tipped in the balance. Yet, how about the positives in my life? Do I get rewarded in ways I’m not aware of when I feed the homeless, tutor for free, go out of my way to help others? But what about this: do I feel like I need to do good to balance out the bad that I did? And when people say thank you, will that good be awarded with good in return, or was the good weighted as payment for my previous actions? It’s crazy. I feel like I want to live a new life. A post high school graduation life constructed away from the pre-graduation.

I struggled to tell anyone about what I did to Sherry because I didn’t want people to view me so negatively. I keep asking myself, maybe if I show everyone that “hey im a good fucking person” maybe they wouldn’t see the event of which I told earlier in this blog as character defining. And I’m not really sure if it is character defining. Do good people do bad? So where does it put me as? Would I be considered a bad person, or can I still call myself good? Can it be neither and rather in between? But if I consider myself bad, then certainly there are bad things headed my way. Maybe the bad already has happened. I got robbed from pretty considerably recently, and I did pay the 2 grand it cost for the new paint job after all. Can I still see myself as good? Because there are things in my past as well as the current way that I live that I feel as if doesn’t deserve to be called good. I still think about what I did to Sherry and I feel tremendously awful because even with the monetary equity I paid as my atonement, nothing can get over the emotional and mental pain of betrayal that Sherry felt when she realized I was the one who keyed her car. That’s why I say never to bring me up to her ever again because part of the atonement to this day to ease her mental and emotional state is to never be a part of her life in any way shape or form. Do bad things happen to good people? If I can still call myself good, the woman I truly felt stronger for than any one else was Stacy. Stacy was Sherry’s best friend and I’m not even sure if Sherry told Stacy about what I did. If she did, then Stacy has done a damn good job at never bringing it up but I don’t think Sherry has because Stacy and I have hung out and talked somewhat regularly afterwards. But on that note of Stacy, I gave up chasing her even though there were times I felt we were really close and had a chance. However, if I was serious about my atonement and future with Stacy, I could never have one with her because of what implication that would bring about to Sherry’s life as well as going back on my word to never be involved with Sherry in whatever way possible.

It’s crazy that today, to whoever is reading this, maybe to those I met after high school for the first time you guys are thinking wow he did that? And if that changes your opinion of me then that’s fair. But it’s important to me to come out with this because this notion of goodness as well as my own internal conflict with that notion has been going back and forth day after day over and over again. And I think my inability to come to terms with my mental state with it has caused to feel regret about whenever I am happy. Regret in that I never completely felt that I deserved to be happy because of the many bad things I did. So is happiness a reward? Is it atonement in its own way? And thus, let’s change the question a bit. Do good people who do bad, deserve happiness and at the same time, do bad people who do good, deserve happiness? I constantly search over and over about where I am in that regards. I want to say I’m good, but without a doubt I struggle with the idea that are good people able to still call themselves good even if they do bad? Cause otherwise wouldn’t that make me a bad person? This is something I struggle with today as my life goes through the motions and my responses up to this point has been to constantly do good wherever and whenever I can. And I think that’s just about the only thing I can do, in fact, the only thing anyone can do. To which I think yes, good people who do bad can still be considered good people. There is repentance and I am trying to walk that path because I can’t say I’m truly happy if I’m in a state where I don’t believe deserve it. Thank you for reading.

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hazeeeeeeeeeeeeeel · 6 years

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Happiness

Comparison

Some of you folks from high school know this story, some of you don’t. I guess we can say though, that the variation form high school changed because life right? But the central thought of eating away at my happiness stays the same.

I have two older brothers. I don’t really talk to them all too much. We are each one year apart so I’m 23, the middle is 24, and the oldest is 25. Back in high school, the oldest one didn’t really do so great throughout but the middle one was a pretty good fucking golden child. 4.0 student, president of prestigious clubs, marching band, editor in chief for journalism, and even had a girlfriend. This dude lived the fucking life man. And I was happy for him. But it wasn’t always like that okay? See, when I was always following him, I wanted to live up to his standards he placed for himself. So I joined the same clubs he did, the same marching band, took the same classes, even had a crush on his girlfriends sister LMFAO (but let’s be real here, Jessica was a reallllll fucking angel WHICH BY THE WAY WAS A COINCIDENCE THAT THEY WERE SISTERS IM JUST SAYING IT JUST WORKED OUT THAT WAY). And I was doing pretty fucking well too living up to my brother’s footsteps. I had a 3.8 GPA (btw this is all unweighted with honors and ap as well), I was an editor in journalism soon to be editor in chief, did drumline for marching band, was a board member of a club that my brother was president in, and Jessica and were Speech and Debate partners so you KNEW we’d spend hours together talking about how we would win trophies (and we won trophies). I too, was living the fucking good life. Until life hit.

See, sometimes it was too hard, so I cheated on my assignments and exams that I could. And I got caught. Back to back times and so the consequences happened. I got kicked off the club I was board member in, I got demoted from my editor position, my grades fucking slipped, I even got fucking kicked off from speech and debate so how could I win with Jessica then (we eventually didn’t work out anyways)? And it’s crazy, cause I was going through some pretty down times at this moment in my junior year and what was my brother doing? Oh well, he was getting interviews for Harvard, Princeton, Yale, being on the news for his awards in art, and fucking asking his girlfriend to Prom in the most baller fucking way that the whole school began to think “why didn’t my date do this for me?” But that wasn’t the worst part of how I felt. Because we were pretty poor and we lived in a two bedroom apartment. The eldest was in college, my parents shared one bedroom, and so my brother and I shared another. And I would wake up earlier for school than he would cause I liked to eat breakfast and just take my slow ass time. Check this out… for a moment I hated my brother. Not hated in contempt, but hated because of how far I fell while he was doing so well. See I loved him, and I always did. But I also hated him as a symbol for what I wanted to do with my life and how I couldn’t do anything about it. How would you think I felt, okay, when everything I wanted to accomplish… everything I wanted to become… and everything I wanted to dream of doing, was literally in front of my face every fucking morning when I woke up, only then to go to the bathroom to brush my teeth where I saw my reflection as a reminder that everything I wanted to accomplish, become, and dream of was absolute jack shit? Because I always compared my brother to myself and how basically shit I was compared to him.

Fast forward to today, and new comparisons are being made when I told myself that I wouldn’t let it get to me. And my parents, bless my parents, they have children so far from the same tree and yet they treat their apples, mangoes, and durians the same (FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DON’T KNOW, DURIANS ARE PRETTY FUCKING SHIT)… But these comparisons are in fact getting to me. Because my eldest brother is finishing his final year in pharmacy school, and the middle one, who I was envious of in the past, is making 120k per year at Google right now as he travels the world while my family needs money and so I feel like a burden financially. Yeah… if I had to compare… pretty fucking shit right? I just feel like with a snapshot of my life, I know my parents and family love me, but it would be easier on them if we could just Idk erase me in general. Of course I would never be so compelled to do that, but the reality is that aside from love, I am in fact more bad than good for my family. And it’s troublesome.

And this is where happiness comes into the picture. It’s funny cause as I write, I feel like I’m preaching to myself, as if I should heed my own advice about what to do with my life and how to approach it moving forward. We’re all pretty fucking different. I thought about leaving a typo there, right after pretty. That way I could have said “We’re all pretty” and just left it there, because that makes so much sense too in that we are all very beautiful in our own differences and unique traits that make us distinctly particular. No one can tell you how to live your life and where your life should be at in its various stages. Psh, the only person who can take control of my life is when Jesus takes the wheel, and when he takes that wheel, he’s fucking bringing it back onto the road alright? Don’t make comparisons. Please. Not with your friends, family, or just even strangers. Don’t make comparisons because it sets a standard of their expectations and not yours. You are meant to live your life, not someone else’s. And perhaps that’s what bothered me most about high school and growing up in general, that I was trying to live a life that wasn’t mine (although Christmas would have been fucking awesome if my brother and I got invited to the same household lmfao). If anything, the only comparison we ought to make is the one where we compare where we were yesterday to where we are today. Happiness is something that is entirely subjective to our own selves. What may bring happiness to our neighbors, may not bring happiness to us. And so, if you’re at the point in your life where you feel like you’re making progress, and your peers are already having wives and kids, then fuck it, you’re happy because you’re out there to take care of yourself. Please please please. Take care of yourself and judge your own life through your eyes only and not anyone else’s. The moment you become consumed by how everyone’s lives are around you is the moment when you’re done and unhappy. Perhaps with my own self as I reflect upon writing this, I take into stride that the loss and regrets I feel are perfectly okay while I shouldn’t compare my shortcomings to how others around me are succeeding. My life. My actions. My future. Set your own standards for yourself and be proud of everything you accomplish no matter how small, how large, how irrelevant, or how relevant. Just as how different my life is from my brothers’ lives, I think that’s fine because we’re different people with different timelines and different perspectives and so for me, It’s okay to stumble. It’s okay for you to stumble as well; I guarantee that everyone else you were so preoccupied with comparing yourself with has stumbled as well, just on their own paces indifferent to yours as yours ought to be indifferent to theirs. It is only through our own perspectives can we really gauge whether or not we are happy.

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hazeeeeeeeeeeeeeel · 6 years

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Happiness

Regret

You read “Regret” and a whole bunch of thoughts are already coming into your head right? To which is perfectly natural - we don’t live without them. In fact if anything, we’re full of them for the most part. I’m going to talk about two of my relationships to illustrate regret. The first one was freshman year of high school. Her name was Megan Yasaki and yeahp, not a lot of people who know me personally remember that Megan and I used to date. So we broke up because she cheated on me for this other dude named John Kim or John Lee (I can’t even remember that fuckers last name now LOL). But I’ll tell you why she did it. It’s cause I would be more focused on studying for my classes and doing my homework and then I would fall asleep early all the time because I was so exhausted and such. After all, getting a 4.0 was important to me. High standards right? I’m not trying to say that there are excuses for cheating, but this John Kim or Lee fucker was there for her and she started developing feelings for him and well yeah. What do I regret here? Not being there for her when she needed me because unknown to me, she was going through some serious hardcore shit with her family and her sense of security. Still, cheating is wrong… but so is being a neglectful boyfriend so to each their own. Bottom line, there are things I regretted doing in that relationship. Now fast forward some good several years and I met my girlfriend who I am currently dating now as of the end of 2017.

We met October 2015 and from the start things were going well. Then she started playing games with me. Y’all know I don’t play games unless it’s League of Legends. That’s the only game I’m playing and fuck thats the only time I’ll play with people. But yeah, she started playing games with me, testing my dedication, shit like that. I get it though, she was on guard and was determined to see whether or not I pass her tests or whatever. And so there was a time… late night at like 11 at night. She’s staying over her sisters at Redondo Beach and I’m all the way over across town on the edge of Torrance and she asks me to come over because she’s watching the dogs and she’s scared and shit. So I do. Because no more regrets right? When there’s someone important to you, you do what you can to protect that. I went. Checked around the house and nothing is sketchy and she asks me to come inside to which I do. Cuts some pineapple and we’re eating some pineapple, strawberries, and rice krispies. What a fucking good life right? LOL But tell you what, she does this crazy shit next. Not like takes out the whip and bat crazy… some actual crazy lady shit. She calls her friend Inez Perez (I just said first and last name cause I wanted to rhyme shoutout to Eminem) and they literally talk on the phone for about an entire hour while I’m over there just chilling on the couch being a good fucking person making sure she’s okay. And in that phone call, she’s openly talking about all these other guys. Pretty fucked up shit right? Like how all these guys were into her and that she might be into them and I’ve already confessed to her how I feel so she knows I’m into her and she knows I knew that I went over not to try to do anything but literally to just be a good fucking person cause she asked. And so what I did next was I told her “I’m going to leave.” Without her replying, just in silence as she was watching what was unfolding in front of her eyes, not muttering a single word to her friend on the phone, I got up, walked to the door, opened the door, and just left. Didn’t even say bye. It took me 40 minutes to drive home as I stopped by McDonald’s to get a McDouble and when I got home, I looked at my phone and no text. So I texted her saying, “You know what, if you were going to ask me to come over like that knowingly aware how I feel about you, I thought at the very least you would have had the respect to treat me like a person.” And still no reply. At school the next day, she avoided me. For a whole week, she avoided me. But funny thing, I was one of the few tutors her group of friends liked and she needed my help too. So they’d come into my workplace to get tutoring and we would keep it strictly professional. Then one day her friend (not Inez Perez shoutout to Eminem), came up to me and said, “Hey dude, Estela feels really sorry for what she did to you by the way,” and my reply was fucking perfect. I said, and I truthfully meant this completely without any contempt, “Just let her know that I’m not going to talk to her about it until next week when finals are done. What’s most important to me right now is you guys passing your classes so I won’t talk to her about it til then.” Yo sorry this paragraph is so long…. The next week comes around, it’s finals… Estela asks me to tutor her privately for her math classes and I tutor her at ihop all night, still never muttering a word about that night she pissed me off. She passed her finals. She said thank you, and she also said “You know, I actually liked that you were being cold to me. Standing up for what you believe in is something that made me see you in a different way.” And we didn’t talk for a few days afterwards and during these few days, this is where regret comes in.

Ever have one of those moments where life flashes between your eyes and you know there’s a pause in the personal life narration where you just fucking know “this is it” and that there would be really fucking important decision to be made? This was it for me. After all, I told her I’d talk after finals and right now at the time, it was after finals. Here was the decisions I was thinking of: I can just say bye and just let it go, I can just say we should stay as friends, or I can go for her even more and really try to make this work. And so with a whole bunch of emotions, I texted her saying two words. These two words were pretty damn perfect to be honest. I write a lot. My texts are long, my snapchats are long, even when I talk trash on League it’s long. But not this message. Just two words, “Date me.” And I’ll tell you why I did that.

This woman was crazy, but she was straight beautiful and pure (later still crazy, but just as sweet and aren’t we all some crazy at some point in our lives?). And I asked myself on that night I texted her, will this be something I regret in my life? I kept asking myself over and over and over and over and over and over again. Then I realized the fact that I keep thinking about this makes me want to know that there’s something there and that I will forever hate myself if I look back several years from now regretting that I didn’t do something and that ultimately it bites me in the ass so fucking hard. We’ve been pretty strong for two years since so that turned out pretty good.

Regret. Regret. Regret. Regret. For each time I typed it, we can easily remember something else we regret. Betting 200 on red? Sure. Letting my friend stay over to get robbed? Sure. Spending a whole shit ton of money on a girl who ended up just being friends? (Just kidding because I’m a good fucking person and not a fuckboi okay?) What about chasing after a girl and giving up? Yes too.

I told myself that I would write each piece of this series not only for myself in fighting my own demons, but to also personally write it as a general message for at least one particular friend. Recently, my friends and I from high school got together and we went out to go eat at another friend’s place and during the car ride there he told me that the past year was so draining for him because he was going after this one girl who’s an angel and that always just being there for her as a friend and being a good fucking guy was just tiresome because it is. Dedicating yourself so much for one person and possibly never being reciprocated is difficult to go through. And he told me that he was giving up on her. But I know you’re reading this, and this isn’t something I wanted to say in the car with other people there… but are you really sure you’re done? Even to this day I think about my past and what could have been with S or N and it’s such a shitty thought because I currently have Estela and I wouldn’t leave her for either of those two. But the thought keeps coming back and back as I reevaluate my life in these moments and I wonder, “if I had done this differently or that differently, or even try that at all, would I be in a relationship with S or N?” The answer to those questions? Probably not. Yet the fact of the matter is thatI had these thoughts because I regretted my actions, or lack of in this case, in my past. I didn’t act when I feel like I should have and if you feel this way about what you’re going through, please make sure that you won’t come back to this moment that flashes before your eyes in these very days because one thing I will always regret is that there are no redo’s.

But if you are done, then you have to be absolutely okay with the notion that perhaps there would have been something there for you two in the future and you are walked away from it. During the early stages at the start of my relationship, I wasn’t okay with that with Estela. I wasn’t okay with looking into the future only to think “what would have been if I acted differently with Estela two years ago?” I didn’t want to regret feeling the same way with her as I did with S or N (by the way if it matters to you who S or N is feel free to ask but I think S is reaallllllllly obvious). That’s why I chased after Estela with that text “Date me.” And if I felt this way that there was even the smallest chance that perhaps we would work out, and IF I felt so strongly in her as a person I wanted to confide then, then wasn’t it fucking worth it to go through what I did? Short answer yes it was. Taking a page from the last blog entry, nothing in life worth having comes easy. And that includes her as well.

So is regret a bad thing? Generally the notion is that it is. We regret doing certain things because we feel bad about the consequences that happened as a result. We could even feel regret for something that may happen instead such as I would regret telling Stacy (LOL) how I felt about her because I knew I would regret having our friendship change. However, I would actually say that regret is pretty good. See, when we feel regret, we have an attachment that we wanted more from our lives and FOR our lives. And that’s beautiful. That we feel so much pain because we are NOT OKAY with the life we live and that we would do ANYTHING we can in order to ACHIEVE what we WANT in our lives is empowering. It’s powerful. The notion that our own personal lives are ultimately shaped by the individual decisions that we make to better our lives, to mold it, to shape it to how we want it to be. When I regretted not being there for Megan in high school, I wanted more out of that relationship and I was not okay with how it turned out. So I dedicated myself to being there for my significant others as well as for all my relationships in friends and family. When I thought about how I would regret letting the opportunity to be something special with Estela go, I thought about how I was not okay with how it could have turned out, merely as friends. Regret is good, because it tells you how much you want something so fucking bad. It’s okay to regret. It’s natural. If anything at all it’s motivating. And even if we’re going through a ton of shit now that we regret having to go through, it only feels that way because we want more out of our lives. What do I regret personally aside from the relationships?

My academic journey, my ignorance to events in the past, my decision to walk away from my church group, my former issues with gambling, my addiction to doing things the wrong way, being lazy, and the list goes on. But that’s fine. Because I want more out of my academic life, I want to use my past to be more wise about my future, I don’t want to be okay with walking away from my church, I don’t want gambling to be an issue, I want to do things the right way, I don’t want to be lazy, and I want more out of life. Over 7 billion people in the world, each with their own dreams, goals, and ambitions. But all with the same desire to want more out of life. To this moment I am writing this, I think about my own regrets and how there are times I hate the life I live. At the same time I do, I think about how I hate the life I live solely because I am not okay with the life I live. And when I think about how I am not okay with living as I am, then I ought to focus on doing everything I can to change where that path is leading towards. And perhaps, if we all look at our own lives, our own reflections, there are parts of our lives that we want to detach ourselves from because we’re not okay with how those parts turned out. Just like how loss teaches us what values are important in our lives, regret teaches us what standards we place for ourselves. We only regret because we have high standards right? If you have low standards, how could you ever regret doing anything because your expectations on life would be low to begin with. And so the contrary is true to which is the central message I hope to convey as well as to reflect upon personally: we regret many things because those consequences fall under the standard we set for ourselves so go on through life, make mistakes, regret those mistakes, do better, but certainly remember to make those mistakes. Who knows? Maybe those mistakes won’t turn out to be one after all. I sure thought going over to Estela’s house that night was something I regretted only until I realized I was not okay with us being just friends and how much I wanted to adore her and be with her. Always do better for yourself today and tomorrow. Don’t think about yesterday, yesterday is already over. Do however think about how you want to change what you don’t like about your life and do realize that we ourselves are the single greatest factor in bringing about that change, that we are powerful beyond measure.

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hazeeeeeeeeeeeeeel · 6 years

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Happiness

Loss

Alright. When we were young, we start to develop the sense of figuring out how life is starting to appear around us. Not necessarily figuring how life works, but just appears. Cause of course we can't figure out how it works out, we’re way too young. And so I want to talk about loss and where I started realizing genuine loss. See, I think children are pretty damn good litmus tests when it comes to giving it how it is. For instance, if a child calls you fat, you’re probably pretty fat. When a child calls you ugly, probably because you’re ugly. When a child calls you both, probably should start to evaluate how you look in a mirror. Anyways regardless, as children we judge life by what we have and what we don't have. So in second grade, I came to school one day and I had my favorite pair of trousers on which I’ll get to those later, but I wanted to talk in particular about my damn fine ass 8-piece set crayons. We got straight aluminum fucking fire. Red, orange, yellow, you got some green, blue, purple, brown, and black. Legit straight fucking fire. So much so that I thought that rainbows were designed after those 8 set crayons. Straight fucking rocking with them. I mean that’s the life right? Come into class, do your homework, color your shit. Trousers. It was as real as it got. Or at least until fucking Eric Hambly (my best friend in second grade) came in with his fuego. Eric was my seat partner and he whipped out his fucking massive colorful kahunas. Straight up 64 colors. That box even had a damn crayon sharpener. It’s crazy, I didn’t feel inferior or anything because Eric always shared with me, God bless his second grade soul. A real angel. Saint. Whatever you want to think Jesus reincarnated himself as. Every color in the entire spectrum known to mankind until they eventually released the 128 set which I never understand why they did in multiples of eight, regardless you get the point.

So I come home that day and I just start coloring my homework. Finally my parents come home past 8 and my mom makes some rice and side dishes for dinner. Then after dinner I asked my parents, “Omma, appa? Can I have new crayons?” To which they replied, “What happened to yours?” And I said, “Oh I still have them. They’re in my backpack, look! *Points to crayons* It’s just that Eric has these nice crayons and I feel bad for always sharing with him and I want my own 64 set crayons.” This was the moment where I realized we were poor. See, my parents told me that we actually didn’t have the money to buy any more crayons, let alone 64 of them. They said that they only have enough money for what we have and for food. And I said okay. I understood. Sure I was bummed, but that’s fine because I was okay with it. Looking back, I think my mom cried that night. How shit would you feel if you couldn’t buy your kid a fucking set of crayons. We’re not talking Nintendo64, fancy phones, or whatever kids were into back in the day. But a fucking set of crayons for school. Couldn’t do it. Not even drugs. Fuck if the only thing my kid ever asked me for was a set of crayons I’d buy that little sucker a damn 128 set until the 256 set came out (if it didn’t already). And my parents damn would’ve wanted to if they could. Pretty heartbreaking to be in their position. Seriously. A fucking box of crayons from target and my parents didn’t have that money and had to say no to their son for it. So that’s when I learned I was poor. But what does being poor and loss have to do together?

It’s pretty much the same because loss in general is essentially the same thing as not having. Here’s a few examples. Losing in a game of League means not having the win. Losing a girlfriend or boyfriend means literally not having a girlfriend or boyfriend. Losing $1000 bucks means not to have $1000 bucks anymore. Fuck, if you lose weight, straight up means you don’t have weight right? Pretty clear. And so if loss is synonymous to not having, then how the hell can we talk about loss being related to happiness? After all, can you be happy about not having anything? But they’re actually way more related than appears because loss, is the predecessor to happiness. Let me give you an example. Alright, there’s this dude. Born in the US. Rich parents, good life, anything you want. Money? Grows on trees. Clothes? Corporations. Food? Personal chefs. Whatever you want. Whatever you think of. Kid’s got it. Was born with it. Fuck it, add a banging out girlfriend too when he gets older. Alright so now let’s go to another instance. Different kid, immigrant, from Syria. Parents shot dead in the eyes as they were trying to escape. Eventually works his way up to being rich, prosperous, and wealthy. Same amounts as the first example. Even, the banging hot girlfriend has twins alright so literally fucking the same. Now let me ask you this, who’s happier? I think the answer is pretty damn clear.

Losing something ultimately teaches us the pain of not having something. See, the glamour, tradition, champion, victory, the win… all of that is meaningless without knowing what it takes to go through the pain to get to the top. Without loss, can you really say that you’re happy when you’re at the top? I mean, who in the right mind would fucking decide to climb a mountain by taking a helicopter to drop them off right in the fucking top right? It’s just like what’s the point of that… so the thing with loss and you know I’ve lost many things in my life as of recent. Most recently, my promos for League which is pretty insignificant to you, unless your name is Hazel then it’s like damn fucking feeding 0-10 AFK aatrox fuck that shit. I lost money, I lost confidence, I lost happiness. And the biggest of those is my happiness. See, a major reason why I wanted to do this series is because it’s more like a public reflection of how I feel about my life and I feel like there’s a lot of loss right now. I’m not saying that I’ve lost to the point where I feel so defeated, but it’s just that there are just so many things that are going to sound like they’re just piling up on me. And I wanted a reality check with myself. Cause the thing is, what hurts me most about loss personally, and if you know me on a better level, everything I want in life is for others. It’s pretty much my story. I always want the best in others. Always. I want them to do well so when you think about what loss means to me, it pains me not to have what it takes to help others around me. I want to be the guy that tips at the family restaurant $100 or something. I want to be the guy who gives more than I have received in my life to homeless people. I want to do so many things things in life. Except the fucking bottom line is that everything is about the money.

But, it’s not all depressing. Loss is painful, but at the same time it’s joyful. It’s confusing, but clear. It’s depression, then victory. Uplifting and empowerment. Resistance and power. Promise and Hope. Why? Because everything that we feel negative about not having what we want, only proves that we will do whatever it takes for us to get to the point we want to in life. Literally, loss, as concept teaches us that we give a shit about our lives. And that’s so fucking important. When I lose a game of League, I feel bad cause I give a shit enough to win. When I lose money, I feel like shit because I need that fucking shit in my life. It’s important. When I lose happiness, of course it’s going to fucking bother me because I want to be happy. And that notion is so powerful that we care so much about something that it’s a breathing living sign of our humanity. So loss, is a predecessor to life. Not having means we want to have. But there’s an exception to this.

I have this friend, she’s a nurse. Honestly she wasn’t really important at the start because she was just a stranger. But things change, to which I’m more than glad they did. The other day she told me that nine people died in the hospital and there’s no promise of loss in that regard. The bottom line is that nine people dying is in no other alternate way of expression, nine people dying. No ifs. No buts. No conditions. Nothing. Once you die you’re done here. It’s over. You’ve got nothing. And that terrifies me. Because there’s so much I want to do in life and that I fear that if I were to pass away for whatever reason, there would be so much regret in not being able to accomplish what I was able to do. But more so, because as an honest assessment, my life’s been pretty shit compared to what I think it should have been. Too often I took the easy way out. And loss? Put ambition there too in that list. There is no joy in death. There is no promise. No life. No hope. Just death. Emptiness. Darkness. Regret. Sorrow. Solitude. Defeat. Despair? Anger? Embarrassment? Pity? Loss is beautiful and at the same time, even more tragic. It judges and teaches us essentially if our lives were worthless. Because from the moment we get on here to Earth we have a duty to ourselves to make our lives the best it can be. And true ultimate final curtain loss means that our time is done. And if there is regret… then it’s over and nothing can be done about it.

But in the context of happiness, if we know what the bottom line is, the worst case scenario… then shouldn’t we do anything and everything we can to avoid it? Not saying that we can run away from death because our times will eventually come. But rather, when that time does come… can we get to the point where we feel that we don’t have regret? Loss teaches us that we don’t want to get to the point where we have nothing. Yet at the same time, it teaches us that if we have something worth having in our lives, life is never a failure. If you have love for your family, no matter what you do with your life, no matter how sorry you may feel materialistic wise, if you have love for someone else your life is worth living. If you have love for your pets, if someone has love for you, if you have love in an action, in a hobby, in something you do, then your life is worth living. And this tiny fleeting moment of holding onto any little bit we may be able to hold onto no matter how much we lost, is worth being happy about. This is true for all things no matter how big or how small. If you’re having a shitty day, or if you’re living a shitty life. If you get evicted, break up with your significant other… if you have no money, or no food, but if you have hope in anything at all, then you have promise. Promise in the the joy of chasing happiness. Of working towards money, food, love, conquest, victory. Joy to feel promise that your life has happiness in it and that little bit of happiness is all you need to keep going because any day that we’re not dead is a good day. Because nothing in our lives that we encounter is too hard for us to overcome. And especially so, nothing worth having in life comes easy. One more time for emphasis, nothing worth having in life comes easy. Nothing at all. Loss? At least we know what it is to be on the bottom. So ask yourself this: what is there to hold on to? There are an infinite amount of answers. As I reflect across my own mental state and see what I am able to hold onto, that’s something I can be happy about. Loss is ultimately a mirror. It reflects my pains and sorrows in losing what I care about. And at the same time, if there’s one thing I want you to get from reading this… It’s that losing only shows us how bad we want to win and we can never forget that. It’s never going to be easy. But it’s going to get better. Hard? Sure. I want to conclude with this: those favorite trousers that I wore in second grade? From that moment on with the crayons, I always told my parents that those trousers were my favorite so that they wouldn’t feel bad about having to buy me new clothes. I guess as a kid, loss in the sense of not having taught me to be thankful for what I did have. And that was always more than enough to get me by. Only through loss can we reach what it is to be happy. So take it with stride, with pride, joy, comfort, and hope.

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