So long, bloggie.

Writing for me is always a way to let go of everything I cannot let go verbally and this blog has become my online diary where I write everything out.

And it is rather funny how my own blog makes me so sad and nostalgic sometimes. Looking at all my posts here always brings back a lot of memories I had created in the past 5 years or so. I remember every story behind each post; some I'd love to recall and some I'd like to avoid.

And sometimes, this blog always remind me of my own past-self's pain and a complete reminder of how gullible and pathetic I was back then, a reminder of what I used to be, a reminder of who I was before and I hate it a lot. It makes me hate myself even more than I already do.

I started to think maybe it is time for me to move on from this blog. Make another one, create a whole new set of memories with some new characters and places. A whole memories starting from when I am 20, an official young adult and maybe later I can compare 2 different phases of my life; one when I was on my teenage year, and one when I was on my 20s. That way, I don't have to delete this blog because I don't think I have enough power to delete this 5 years  old bloggie, there's way too much memories in it.

I don't know. It seems like a good idea for now but I know I won't be able to abandon this blog completely so maybe I will still write on this blog once in a while or maybe everyday, too, I have no idea but I will try to write on different platforms.

For now, I am more active on my Tumblr and Twitter. Also, I just recently made a Medium account. I don't know, I'm trying everything out.

Until then,
Goodbye.

Hell with you're not alone. You are always alone.

I always disagree with the phase "you are not alone". The first time I heard those four words was from Michael Jackson's famous song; you are not alone. I thought that song was good and inspirational. It told people that someone would always be there for you but as I grow older, those 4 words are becoming more and more irrelevant and downright stupid.

The older I get, the more I realize that I am mostly alone in my life. I am alone when I cried myself to sleep. I am alone when my dreams haunt my sleep. I am alone when I sob in the shower. I am alone when I am sad and unhappy. I am alone when my insecurities kill myself. I am alone when I hit the rock bottom. And the sad thing is, I've gotten so used to loneliness that I would rather stay silent when I feel something. I feel things, and I only want to feel it alone--be it sadness, happiness, anger, hatred, or disgust. I feel like, only in my own bubble of loneliness that I can cope with everything.

I should have known better. 

I should  have known better than to lash out.

I should have known that it's better for me to keep my emotions to myself only.

I should have known that people will get tired of me once I get too hard for them to handle.

Anyway, the person who said "don't let their words get to your head" had probably never been hit by words as sharp as hundred knives thrown together all at once. 

Someone someday

Someone will get to call you beautiful someday and someone will write about you the way I did (or maybe still do) but the difference is that she will send them all to you. Unlike me who loved you only in silence and let every page of my writings about you be buried beneath the dust and momeries, leaving them all unsent.

She will love you,
In a way I could never be able to love you.
And you will love her,
In a way like you've never loved before.

"I love too much that I don't have any love left to myself"