Not Alone… But Maybe I Am

In Literary, Opinions, and Reviews, Wicked by Wicked Ying

It’s been weeks since my last post and I miss this space – my own little place on the internet. I’m not used to ‘not’ blogging for long periods of time. The attrition isn’t intentional. For reasons unknown, I can’t bring myself back to the routine. The will (and determination) is there but writing about fashion or beauty reviews feels wrong when you’re not okay. :-? 

Only a few noticed my absence (a relief) while some asked regarding my whereabouts and whatnot. Well, I am at a happy place right now. Where I am at this moment is where I wanted to be; away from people and tucked in my own safe sanctuary. As difficult as it is to accept, I have come to terms with myself that maybe I am suffering something mental. I have spent countless hours online digging through articles, poring over books, support groups, forums, etc. It came to a point when I don’t know what to believe anymore. The accuracy of the signs/symptoms listed is undeniable like emotional lability and impulsive behavior as manifested by spending sprees or reckless decisions (if you know what I mean). What gave me comfort amidst this predicament I am in is the fact that I’m not the only person in the world experiencing such mental/emotional turmoil. Who I was in the past is somewhat analogous to the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It’s like having another identity taking over defying all sorts of reason left in you. Imagine having another version of yourself talking to you non-stop whispering thoughts on every possible occasion. This happens 24/7 waiting for the right time when it can plant its seed of doubt in your head. So it grows into a tree and cultivating it is only becoming increasingly unhealthy and dangerous. Overtime, deep-seated roots of paranoia with an overbearing foliage of lies created a shade of false sense of security thereby trapping me into my own ravine. Too late.

Metaphors and medical approach aside, I dearly confess that it is hard to be discerned (nowadays) as a cold-hearted, insensitive, and deceitful partner. Sure I may look stoic on the outside but truth be told, there are times when I cry myself to sleep. I find humor into thinking I might exceed my emotional breakdown quota especially on my ‘alone’ days. In retrospect, it got me wondering how I managed multitasking acts whilst leading a double life. Aspects of your life is not the easiest nor the fanciest part to juggle. I despise the old me. If anything, I do not want to be like that anymore. The feelings of guilt and remorse have become monsters under my bed. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself for the things I did. Remorse sank in so late. Yes, it hit me just recently. However, its weight is enough to drag me down so low. I am not so sure at this point if I will be able to emerge ‘victorious’ from this shitstorm. :cry: 

There are instances when I ask myself, why was I unhappy? The answer probably is because I chose to. Alienated by my own being, I have always wanted to see who I really am from another set of eyes. Alas, it came true thanks to (him and) moments brought about by introspection! You may ask how was it or what did you see? I could admit that sadly I didn’t see any good in me — not even a pinch of kindness, respect nor love for others. Why have I become so selfish? Why am I not even conscious of my mindless actions? How can I be so unaware all this time? I can’t even begin to describe how much I hate myself right now; for being irrational, for being mean, and for hurting everyone around me as a result. I had everything. I was living the dream. It was a taste of the so-called good life. I had it all. Once. I lost it. The future I pictured myself in and the future with the one I built my dreams with is now officially a wishful thinking. I will never be able to turn back the hands of time and life most certainly has no ‘undo’ button. Hmmm… All I could do now is let out a heavy sigh. It is the kind of sigh that’s worth a lifetime of regret. Remembering what I did makes me wallow in self-loathing, drown in misery, and regress. Depression got me so bad that it went as far as entertaining ideas of taking away my own life as a means of escape. It was just ideations nonetheless (no need to panic).

At times, I feel like I am a paradox personified. Worthless and pessimistic yet hopeful at the same time. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel but I am silently expecting for some sort of salvation or a chance at redemption to say the least. The ambivalence is too real you could almost touch it. Lol! Condemn the act not the person, the saying goes. I doubt the verity of that quote for it felt like the world has completely forgotten who I am because of what I did. Was I being entirely fake during that time period? No. I find it hard to take (and hurtful) when they question the genuineness of those happy moments I shared with them. Gaaah! I’m this close to assuming that I am indeed a hopeless case… Or maybe there’s a slight chance at recovery? That I do not know! With optimism being a strange word in my vocabulary, time can only tell if things will turn out good, if not, better. Yup, this is me being hopeful. How do you fix someone who’s been broken all her life? Damaged in every bit, how does one fix another whose love and trust has been tainted with his views on you radically changed? Let me tell you this: robbing someone of their trust, innocence, and happiness is the worst thing you can do to a person. I’m sorry, babe. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone; not even on my worst enemy. It will change them — really, really change them. It is the kind of change that’s irreversible. :cry: 

You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. It sounds cliche but that line will haunt me for a lifetime. It will remind me of the most genuine unconditional love I’ve lost. It was a love so selfless, so pure, and so deep it was beyond compare. Bittersweet. Reminiscing about it fills me with insurmountable regret. Time can only tell what happens from here on forward. Not everyone gets a shot at second chances and knowing that makes me more than willing to make things up this time around.


As to blogging, I’m not sure when TWY will be back to the drill. Maybe I’ll resume to my nonsensical blabber when things will be okay, if ever it will be. I don’t know what to do. For now, I guess I’ll just… breathe.

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