meloncholy-archive

[meloncholy-archive]

might as well get back... a very loose barely a review of “every brilliant thing”

the past few months (or even years) have felt like a blur. its felt like ive been coasting by, not really fully registering and processing everything around me. kind of like an outsider to my own life? its like when you're on a treadmill and you set up the speed and you do all the walking/running and hell, its been minutes or even an hour! yet it doesnt fully process in your brain that you've been working at it on a treadmill? that your ankles are aching? that your hands are all shakey? that you've been sweating buckets? thats kind of how ive felt.

i think ive been too used to carrying around my fragile, bleeding, broken heart everywhere i go... to the point that i forgot it was my own heart that was aching. i dont remember a time that i havent been pretending. ive managed to fool everyone else, after all! i think ive even fooled myself at some point. i think ive distracted myself from those feelings for so long that i forgot it was even there in the first place

at the start of the year, i went thru a big change in my life. and ive realized its not just an imp year for me but also to the people close to me who are moving on w their lives, doing this and that, starting a new chapter, and so on. and, somehow somewhere along the way, i think my brain has reached a point of tipping over its contents? and it hit me real hard that "shit, i AM sad"

and thats been plaguing and clouding my mind all this time. i cant eat, i cant sleep, i cant move, its hard to breathe now. i dont feel like doing anything, i dont enjoy any of the things i used to do, i dont feel great about seeing any of my loved ones, i dont feel great about anything. i look at myself and i think, "whats the point of it all? where do i go from here? why am i even doing any of this?" it just felt worse and worse and worse and worse everyday, even if it didnt seem that way at all if you actually knew me personally (as someone who still does my day-to-day responsibilities)

anyway, my work required me to watch this movie (sounds weird but i work a creative job blah blah its a whole thing!) and i was really just planning to skim through it and get on with the work without a hitch. get it over it so i can get paid, get things on a portfolio, all that jazz just to have some routine and structure in my life or essentially do the usual, typical "responsible" thing as expected of a working adult

long story short, i ended up really engaged with the entire piece (for lack of better term) and felt every bit affirmed in every feeling ive ever felt. i remembered things from my past that correlate to the moments depicted. i felt seen in what ive been going through and have gone through. basically, i cried the entire time. i really fuckin needed this

so, to add to the list: 

1,000,001 = finding a really great fuckin movie (or any type of art!) at the right time you needed it and connecting with the material in ways you didnt expect at all

[meloncholy-archive]

insert dog_on_fire_this_is_fine.jpg

for someone that wrote an entire fuckin essay about loving to stay in the pretense of being stuck in time and all that pining bullshit, im actually the most impatient fuckin person i know. 

its like part of me wants to believe im that but also knowing me, the actual in reality me, i hate waiting around. maybe its the taurus sun vs aquarius moon vs gemini rising in me? (or whatever the fuck that means)

it irks me how impatient i am. its like my thinking process is always plan a shit ton and put such high expectations on myself then skip like 20 steps then oops, what do you know? im at the finish line and have everything i want in life! im happy and where i planned to be! 

its like outer me has this whole, “without the journey... i wouldnt have all this.” and thats true, it makes a lot of sense (as nauseating as it sounds). cue in all my romanticization of the struggle i went through and all the hardwork i put in to where i want to be. cue in the hundred characters i fixate on because they have an inferiority complex and are always busting the hardwork but never get the results (until they actually do in the end).

but inner me is actually more of: why cant i just skip through all the hurdles for once? why do i have to go through hell and back to actually get to that point? you know, that high fuckin pedestal that i know deep down no one can ever reach yet i place it onto myself because for some unknown reason, i have way too many self-placed expectations. 

i’d love to be chill. i wish i was like that. i wish i was the person people think i am when they first meet me. an easygoing, relaxed person that has 0 shame in doing embarrassing shit just because. but genuinely, im pretty sure i have a stick shoved so far up my ass, my eyeballs have popped out (terrible imagery but you’ll have to go with it).

i just.. keep thinking this way and never feel fully satisfied with myself. its a cycle. its like im never pleased! its like i keep wanting to be this and it could go either 2 ways with 1 constant end result. i pull in too much effort and i get only 1% closer to where i want to be then im not satisfied! because 1% or not, its still not THERE! i give up with that life and decide its not worth all my trouble but it also doesnt give me the satisfaction i need. so my go-to move is usually to resign to feeling like a loser at the start. doomed from the very beginning. never destined for any type of greatness and success (even though deep down, i so badly want it.)

like really! dont listen to me! dont listen to me when i say i dont care! because 90% of the time i really fuckin do! its annoying! im sensitive okay! im high maintenance! i want attention! i want people to ooh and aah at me! im a girly girl! screw you all, i’ll beat you with a stick!

conclusion: i dont fuckin know, maybe i am a bit of a masochist i guess? maybe i subconsiously set myself up for failure...... kind of subconsciously tho. 

its like part of me knows this only end in flames but here i am dosing the gasoline.

[meloncholy-archive]

i like to live in the slow build up

i personally think the build up’s are always the best part.

last month, i made it a habit to watch how i met your mother while exercising. unfortunately, the only habit i kept up was the watching and not the exercise. from the show, one of my favorite episodes was when ted met victoria in a friend’s wedding. before they parted ways and promised never to meet again (a lie, by the way), victoria said, “the best part of any first kiss is the lead up to it—the moment right before the lips touch. its like a big drumroll.” 

when i think about my life, i actually think i took that one thing to heart way too much. like the way i love the build up in rom-com films when the main characters cant seem to get their shit together and are left a pining mess. like the way i love picking up so many different things and getting distracted every 10 seconds at anything new that comes along. like the way i love the crushes and honeymoon stages—moments of longing gazes, lingering touches and simple pleasures that come with firsts. or even admittedly, the way i love the hot air that comes with making out, the unsure touches into few exposed skin and the grinding down before taking any clothes off (all this instead of the actual sex is my favorite).

and i’ll tell you this, its not that im scared. everyone knows me as a headstrong person and its true, i personally like to go straight into things without a second thought (or a third or a fourth). 

the truth is: i didnt like seeing things through to the end. i didnt like dealing with the moral consequences of my actions. i didnt like to let go of (questionably) too happy of moments and the people within them. in build up’s, the ball was always up in the air. time was just a little bit slower than usual and nothing was foul play. it felt like anything can happen—anything was allowed. no one likes the inevitable doom. i mean, its in the fuckin name. 

i was always someone that had a habit of stirring things up and diving headfirst but i didnt close. i was never one to finish where i left off. i simply just kept heading straight without a clear direction and thinking back to all the other things i left hanging.

i like staying in that big drumroll where the endings were still a road ahead of me. although i do admit, i do have a tendency to keep ignoring things til they go away or until they solve themselves (that way, i dont need to make the choice). but can you blame me? it was never that i particularly liked a cliff hanger (i didnt, who even does wtf), its just nice to bask in the pining rather than seeing through if it worked out or not. it was safe. and i loved having the leeway to just keep running without a clear view of how its going end. 

what can i say? 

running in circles was always much easier than confronting a glaring truth.

its not that i didnt have a foresight into things. sometimes, you can just tell how its going to end but even then, i didnt like to get that 100% confirmation. it was too... final. a chapter closed. even if it was something that could bring me genuine happiness because knowing me and my sullen nature, i’d probably find at least one (1) fault and think “thats it?”

because no matter how different the possibilities of the endings can be, you know its always going to end in 2 things: good or bad. and i dont know about you, but i’d rather close my eyes at the 50/50 result.

soon, im going to need to stop living too much in the fleeting moments of life and begin looking at things in a bigger picture (aka my despairing future). 

im going to grow tired of passing by. 

but thats not today.

for the me of now, a masochist really, this is enough. 

all that’s left now is for future me to deal with the aftermath of my ever so shitty impulsive decisions, good luck (riddance) to that bitch!

[meloncholy-archive]

in time

[in which i talk about coercion & harassment i didnt think i experienced til it was years later & most imp, from ppl i trusted most. i’ll write this when im at the right mindset. MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING THOUGH.]

[meloncholy-archive]

maybe i do get better

there i was, reading haikyuu fanfiction— 

(specifically anything with oikawa. hes a chaotic gay and doesnt know what to do with himself so felt.)

i was expecting enough fluff to get me idealizing my next relationship 

(considering my tendency to project my own insecurities into people, the idealization unfortunately comes free with no cost)

or enough smut to get me rutting against a pillow.

(i wish i had an explanation for the pillow rutting but im just lazy and hate being messy with normal masturbation)

unfortunately, all i got was a few soul crushing realizations about my life where at the moment, The Eternal Mood is just: can the ground swallow me whole right now? can the inexorable tide wash over and take my body with it? is it possible for me to drown except not feel the pain of drowing because having water in your lungs is actually a bitch and choking hurts and why tf would anyone want to die like that? 

(i want my last death moments to be a beautiful tradegy that you’d think shakespeare would write about. or like hemingway! no idea how that dude writes but hes always sounded fancy and suave in my head.)

(last side note: the funeral should be a Grand Thing because its my time to shine and i hope my sister doesnt steal my thunder, even in death. what a bitch.)

anyway. coming of age.

the realization is as follows:

i dont think i really loved [redacted] as much as i thought i did

i know i dont have to say redacted but its weird saying his name now. not that i still have any sort of attachment to him. even now, i just think he was important to my life but i dont hold any value for him anymore. 

he was someone i once called home but ive later on realized my coming of age came moreso after our breakup when i learned to let go of all my stupid kiddie highschool fantasies and started really looking at my life and seeing its worth. 

as anyone has probably guessed from an outside lense, we werent fit. like i used to think “opposites attract” but we werent just opposite, you know? it was like as if we were on 2 different planes of thought.... if those 2 planes were from different alternate universes. its like we knew each other but also, did we really. 

we spent years together yet i couldnt even get him to fully trust me to just be okay with letting go and telling me whats wrong with him. but in turn, its not like i fully trusted him too. at the back of my head, even from the start, was an almost gnawing, aching feeling of— 

“you’re not right for each other” “he’s gonna cheat on you” “you’re going to breakup eventually” “well, might as well enjoy it while it lasts”

i think thats why i had a lot of moments w him where we’d just look at each other and say (mostly in between the lines): should we even still be doing this? are we really just gonna keep holding on like this? 

sure, we cared about each other. there was love, of course. and in some very vulnerable moments, i did genuinely think i was undeniably in love there and i think he did too. 

but he was a projection of all my self-hate issues and an idealization i had for stability in life. like when the dust settles, 

my subconscious would think: at least one (1) person out there loves me. at least i know someone will always listen to me. at least there is somebody out there who would be willing to do anything for me.

but now that im out of it, i realized i loved more the idea that somebody loved me than i actually loved the person. hell, i spent so much time asking him to not let go just yet and be beck and call just to appease him.

(its pathetic, i know. i talk a big game of independence but LISTEN, im really terrible at it........)

i dont know about him and where his true feelings lie for me but as i have realized for years and never told anyone, he was never someone that was “willing to do anything for me.” he did things for me out of obligation. i think that hurt for me a lot to think too deeply about.

we were really just.. two people that were just seeking comfort in each other and holding on so fuckin tight for that short while there. i deluded myself a lot into thinking hes always going to be there for me and hes the love of my life but you know? we’ve always been passerby’s to each other. we didnt emotionally connect as well as i told everyone. our talks werent as deep as i wished. he couldnt get out of his shell, even with me. hell, i never even fully felt like myself in our entire sex life. i told you. i was at beck and call. hes finished? thats fine. want to just use me and it doesnt matter if i climax? ok, whatever. too tired to top? ok, i’ll do it. skip out the foreplay? ok, thats cool. want to just have me get on my knees? fine, i’ll do it. i’ll do everything. 

it was... a moment... in time. we were hanging by a thread. you know before the actual breakup, we actually almost broke up like 3 times? at the end of the year usually. i guess that was us thinking: do we really want to prolong this any longer and for another year at that? 

but its weird, right? i knew we’d breakup eventually but it didnt mean it didnt hurt still to have someone leave. leaving always hurts and being cheated on will always be a terrible feeling. but you know whats funny? regarding the cheating thing? i think what came out more from that was my self-hate issues. being with him felt like someone choosing me despite all my imperfections. i wanted an unconditional love, basically. but him cheating on me felt like me still not amounting to anything because big surprise! he chose someone else anyway! he won the breakup! hes the victor! you were always a reacher! he was a settler! you never good enough for anyone!

its terrible. i have a lot of issues. 

despite everything, this isnt a post to say “all this time, i didnt love him.” thats not true at all. as i said: hes still someone important and i did genuinely think for a while there that he, for all intents and purposes, was the love of my life. but as i also said: i dont think i loved him as much as i thought i did.

in fact, in all our 3 and a half years together, i actually think i hated myself more than i ever actually loved him (as grueling and depressing as it sounds).

the point of this post is currently at: ???. this really isnt even just me finally admit everything ive realized the past 2 years since 2018. jeez, this isnt even a post to say im fully okay with myself. 

ive been good, i guess. and im glad to finally learn to do things purely for myself, be okay with being alone and out of that funk (a bit). im happy to have good friends, the life i have and the existence of menthol cigarettes.

but i dont know, im 21, you know? im starting to realize im so fuckin young and i dont have to have everything figured out all the time. i dont need to rush myself into being the best version of myself because everyday, i’ll always be a little bit better than i was and thats okay, too.

and guess what? ive started to stop thinking of the “what ifs.” the what if i stayed in a relationship w him, what if i took things more seriously than i did at the time, what if i actually listened more and stopped talking during those 3 and a half years. 

ive started to take the “what ifs” for the future instead. and god, i have a lot of “what ifs” now for what lies ahead (and this time, im doing this for me).