In the process of typing and backspacing words and phrases and sentences, I realized how truly chaotic this mind of mine truly is. There are times when I can’t even focus enough to form a coherent paragraph.
Too much clutter, too much mess.
I kind of miss the simplicity and austerity and honesty of diaries (call it a journal since we’re trying to be adults).
Some people made fun of me today. I saw them laughing at my direction while I walked pass them. I wanted to cry but I pulled it together because I didn’t want them to see me affected. But I know that I incur wounds every time they do that.
I just don’t understand how people could be this cruel when I’m not even doing anything to them.
Maybe I’m just not worth anything. Maybe I’m useless. Maybe I’m just better off not heard, not seen, not anything.
It was my elementary and high school years when I kept a diary (my sophomore year in high school was when I started blogging) and religiously wrote on it. Sadly, there were a lot of entries that were quite similar to the one above (as you probably can tell, I had quite a fucked up childhood, pre-teen, and teen years being a bullied kid and all).
I learned then how to lean on the words. I held on to them to give me the strength that I need to continue fighting a, what I felt then, was a losing battle.
But more than a decade later, I’m still a mess. There are still too many emotions that are yet to be said; yet to be written. I’m still in constant pain, albeit things are a lot better now.
Words saved me. Words are constantly saving me.
This is Day 3 of my #30DaysOfWriting Challenge.