I’m Scared of Growing Up
I started thinking about my current position in life and my future prospects. I came to a conclusion; I’m scared of growing up.
Currently being the age that I am right now, I act my age and other times I don’t. I am just so scared, I don’t feel ready to “go into the big wide world” like I thought I would be ready for. To be honest, I don’t think I ever will. I’m that kind of person, I get afraid so easily, I’m shy when it comes to new things, and always need reassurance from others. I know people say that it’s normal and that everyone feels like this at some point. Okay, fair enough, but to me this is too extreme and goes beyond what I consider normal.
Before I graduated from high school I thought for sure that I’d be ready to graduate and live my life the way I wanted to and get away from the people whom I’ve always wanted to finally shut out in my life. Even though I’ve succeeded on getting away from the people who I despise the most, I start to realize that I really miss those who I left behind; The most important people in my life: my friends and my family. I miss my childhood and nothing in adulthood will ever be the same. I know my childhood was a living hell and has some broken pieces here and there but I think I rather much prefer to re-live that life or even kill myself right now than be an adult. I just don’t know what’s the point of living anymore if we have to go through the same shit everyday: going to work, coming back home, eat, sleep and go over the process again and again until you breathe your very last breath. I know it was the same when we went to school, but at least it was different everyday, whether it was getting ourselves into drama, learning new concepts in each subject, enjoying our times with friends. Life was more exciting and fun. As we all know it even if we get happily married and have kids and what not, we’ll all end up dying alone, you’re kids are going to be living their own lives and only come around to visit you every Christmas or so but that’s it, same goes for your friends. Even your spouse or one of you is going to die before the other leaving one of you living alone.
In contrast of mine my mother’s childhood was fun and were filled with happy memories despite the fact the burden of chores and responsibility was shoved onto her at a young age and some of the sad memories that she still hangs on to. But her life went down hill when she married my father. She tried giving us the same happy childhood she lived by but couldn’t because of the amount of work pushed onto her, the amount of stress given by my father and gaining a weaker body. She tells me that she’s happy and to not worry about what’s going on with the troubles she’s facing. She tries to sugar code everything and telling us not to worry but I know that she’s depressed, tired, and weak. I also found out the she was diagnosed with stomach cancer recently and had luckily just removed them before the cancer cell could get any bigger. She tells me the only thing that she wants now is for my siblings and I to become something that can help secure and help be financially stable, to be part of the big jobs like a doctor, and engineer or scientist etc and then she’ll be happy and content. I really really want her to be happy and content, she deserves to be happy and die painless, regretless death, but the only dream I wanted was to become an artist or a manga artist/author. Nothing more could make me happy and at ease than drawing or writing stories. I’m being forced to give up on that dream because of many reasons. I mean, I still do want to become a pharmacist (for those of you who know); it was one of the dream professions that I wanted do, that’s what I’m going to school for right now. But for some reason I have a mixed feeling that I won’t be happy later on in life. Either way you see it, I’ll never be happy in my adulthood. Do you see the dilemma? The only two things that would make me happy living are contradicting each other. I’m scared of ending up like her, every day I wonder why do bad things happen to good people like her? They definitely don’t deserve it.
Everything around me is a constant reminder that you can’t go back to being a kid or a teenager anymore. I feel like I’ve been a burden to my sister now that I live with her. She thinks I’m being too dependent on her right now. My mother told her to just be patient and help guide me; after all I was new to everything and what not. But she didn’t care; she responded that when she moved out that she had to figure everything out on her own and that I might as well do the same thing and that I was no longer a little girl anymore. Even just thinking about getting a job after college and thinking what to do with your life scares me. Even when my friends and classmates are talking about their part-time jobs makes me feel unsafe and frightened. Although I had a part time job before, I never really got to experience what its like to have an interview and dress nicely for it and having fiddle faddle thoughts whether or not I got the job. I was always taken in without having go to through an interview because of the fact that it was a family friend that I worked for. It sounds scary to even go through such things. Having to make an “adult way” of making a phone call or writing a letter and also when talking about going to parties and socializing scares me too. I don’t want to get any older; I want time to just stop! I’m so confused. I want to go out there and do everything like what others are doing, yet I know in reality I wouldn’t be able to for the reasons I said above.
I never had such extreme anxiety like this before, or maybe it’s just my depression that could be coming back and be put into play. But I can tell you that I don’t like it at all. I never wish for my severe depression to come back, I’ve come a long way to “get better” from it and I’m not going to let myself completely drown in it again. But I can’t help myself to be in that state from time to time. Depression has molded me as a person growing up, it’s a part of me that I can’t really run from or break away from fully. That’s how long it’s been with me. If that’s what’s making me to be afraid of growing up, I want it to stop, just for a few years so I can see how growing up is a precious phase in life. Sadly though, I’ve also had suicidal thoughts since I was very little, I stopped having such thoughts around the 7th grade because I know I don’t have the courage to hurt myself as well as knowing that its the cowards way out into escaping your problems and I don’t ever want to be remembered as one of those cowards who died by committing suicide. But the prospect of growing up scares me and makes me want to fall of a cliff or something, because I don’t to grow up always wanting more, and wishing I had better. Everyone looks forward to growing up and turning 18 and onwards etc. and being independent, following their dreams, but I don’t. I feel stuck in a horrible life now, and I fear that growing up will be just like me watching a movie, and wanting it all when it ends. I feel like I’ve lost my dreams and aspirations, so I don’t know what to follow. I don’t feel confident enough on myself to out go and venture, (this going with my pharmacy dream) I just don’t feel like I had a happy life. I regret a lot of choices I made throughout my teenage years its too late to go back now, I’m facing my consequences all at once.
Will this feeling ever end?
When my mother was talking to my sister on the phone (or skype? idk I was in the other room) and heard me in the background she said that I have a voice of a young teenage or a young adult male on the phone.
Mother was about to freak that she thought we had some guys over or something in our apartment.
I just called out my sister to ask where she put my bags and books and my mother is all like:
Mom: “WHO IS THAT? IS THAT I BOY I HEAR? DIDN’T I SAY NO BOYS OR NO BOYFRIEND OR NO PARTYING UNTIL YOU GRADUATE?! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO FOCUS ON YOUR STUDIES!”
Sister: “No mom, that was Rita. Wow can’t recognize your own daughter’s voice… very sad.”
Me: “Yeah hey mom…” *walks away*
Mom: “Really?! hahahaha! wow, you serious that was her?! Hahahaha! Just…Wow, Hi sweetie. Well I should have known, she’s always had that unisex voice huh? I bet some people could never tell whether she’s a boy or girl because of her voice and the way she dresses sometimes and how she styles her hair (I would sometimes put it down long like a girl or I would put it up and style it as if i have very short hair but apparently it looks like a boys hair). Like one minute she sounds like a girl then next a boy, and then with her normal voice it’s a voice of both genders”
Sister: “Well mom, she was supposed to be a BOY when she was inside your womb. and not to mention her face is half and half of yours and dad… (I think I look more like my dad though) so yeah, you can say she looks like a boy and a girl too.”
Mother: “Someone must have put a cursed tailsman to switch genders on my poor baby.”
Sister: “Hahaha! maybe! Oh do you remember that one time when we moved here to America that little girl thought Rita was a boy and started to cling onto her and telling everyone that she was her boyfriend and Rita’s friends we’re all like: “SHE’S A GIRL!” hahahaha!”
Mother: “HAHAHA! YES! I remember that Kyle, Riley, and Zack were very upset about that xD her friends were very sweet. I mean well, at that time Rita’s hair grew slower than most people at a young age so you can’t blame her. She wouldn’t grow hair on some places on her head which would leave a huge bald area on one end and one end with hair. If it weren’t for your grandmother who shaved off her head she would still be half bald. Now her hair grows at a fast pace and grows equally.”
Sister: “Yeah I remember. OH and that time when her eighth grade substitute teacher thought she was a boy! AND that one dude that found out that she was a girl?!?!?!?”
Mother: “HAHAHA YES! teehee! … oh god, I feel bad that we’re laughing at her. *tries to call my name* I’M SORRY HONEY! I LOVE YOU!”
Sister: “NAH, SHE’S USED TO OF IT.”
Yep, them two just started talking about all the embarrassing memories of me mistaken as a boy.
For people who have heard of me, do you think I have a unisex voice? or look like a guy??? I won’t get offended, I’m just really curious and wondering.
Well, that was an interesting date…
I just got back from a dinner date with an old friend. It was, like, dream-worthy romantic, well almost. He came back from Florida to visit some family and friends but he was here mainly for an interview for his future internship. It was nice to finally see him again. I can’t even explain how amazing everything was. Even though it was just a friendly date, it sure felt somewhat like a real date to me… it was a fun experience!
It all started when him and his group of guy friends starting making a bet, a bet that my friend didn’t had any female friends or go on dates because, well, they hardly seen him with anyone besides studying, doing projects, and just about anything with school work; “female classmates” so they called them. I don’t understand why his female friends from school weren’t considered as his “friends” but whatever the point that they tried to make was that all he ever does was study, play games and work and needed some time to actually hang out with the opposite sex rather than tagging along with the guy friends most the time. Now I know my friend pretty well, he’s actually got a lot of female friends that he hangs out with, not to mention he’s quite a charmer too. But apparently again, his friends has seen all of them and still doesn’t consider them as “female friends” just “female classmates”.
They made the bet official; my friend needed a date to bring with him to dinner. Usually he wouldn’t give a damn and just go without one, but I guess something made him think otherwise… and that’s when he called me up. Told me the whole story and asked me if I wanted to go on a dinner date with him. At first I hesitated to answer him, I mean c’mon a date? I don’t do so well on these situations, but I figured, it was with him, I mean he’s one of my best friends, we were comfortable with each other, what can go wrong? So I agreed.
Then today was the day. I had this really weird feeling from my stomach; I guess you could say I was excited and nervous all at the same time. I didn’t know why I was making everything a big deal, it was just a date with a friend and nothing more, but I was getting overwhelmed. I had like over 15 pieces of clothing on my bed just to see what would look good for tonight. My friend called up just to see how I was doing and what time he was picking me up. He sounded a bit nervous himself but I could have been wrong. After a few hours past I was done dressing myself up and ready to be picked up, however, he was really late. Unfortunately, he accidentally fell asleep and left his phone on silent on the living room table making it impossible to reach him. Luckily though his old dog whined at him and woke him up hahahaha~~
I was a little bit aggravated but at the end I was happy because he made it up to me by buying me some yellow daises. We went to the restaurant where we met up with his friends and their dates and yes! My friend was off the hook; his friends were fond of him and me. They lost the bet and offered to take care of the extra bills. Unfortunately just when I thought we were all about to eat together on one huge table, everybody decided to split up because wanted to spend time with their dates. I start to get really nervous at this point because it would mean it was just me and my friend…Just the two of us alone. Not that it was bad, actually it was better because I can’t stand eating with people whom I don’t know very well and have awkward stares and moments. When we sat down in our seats everything seemed quite nice, there were some awkward chuckles/stares here and there but it was fine.
“I’m Sorry, it’s just that… it feels like I’m on a real romantic date with you.” My friend said. I agreed with all honesty, “I like it, I like it because it’s with you. I’m with someone that I really like and comfortable with.” we both laughed and just played along as if though we were on a romantic dinner date. He was such a gentlemen and really gentle, we had drinks and little appetizers because I wasn’t that hungry; But when I was, we fed each other our dishes just to experience how real couples would share their meals with each other. It was a bit hesitating and scary but we did it and it was fun. We got compliments from an elderly group that were sitting next to us and saw us “romantically” sharing our food and feeding each other. They even asked us to pose a picture for them because apparently we were the most “cutest young couple” they’ve seen in a long time. Overall it was an awesome dinner date! My friend took me home, said our goodbyes and pecked me on the head like he always did. He admitted that he was nervous all day today but said it was all worth it because he had a great time. We both agreed to do something like this again. This is definitely a memory I for sure will remember and cherish.
Grandma Calls Me Precious… but not anymore.
She has forgotten who I am.
She’s completely forgotten me.
This isn’t the first time she forgot… She forgot me once but it was only temporarily. But this time, every time I visit her it seems that she can’t remember at all.
Today she asked me who I was and why was I there next to her. I told her that I was her granddaughter but she didn’t believe me. She said that she only had two grandchildren and they were in the kitchen (in which who took care of her for the last 12 years). It wasn’t only me that she forgotten though, she forgotten my sister, my brother, my middle cousin, and her best friends from her church. So in total of 6 grandchildren she has, she forgotten 4 of us. Funny thing was that she mistaken my brother for her deceased husband, and my cousin Hatchiko who was my grandmother’s sister-in-law from Japan.
I was prepared for it; I knew that sooner or later, she would slowly start to forget everyone… putting an end of her physical life on earth comes closer everday. She and I talked for a while but I can’t help but always look away once in a while from her gaze. If I look long enough I get a little teary…so it helps me if I look away from her sometimes, it also helps that she doesn’t have to worry about me. Luckily, I was able to fight those tears back and smiled and continued to be there for her. I’m just glad I was able to be with her and spend time with her as I listen to her stories about her youthful years and what not.
Her church friends started to pity my siblings, my cousin and I. However out of all of us they pitied me the most. They all grab hold of my hand and sadly ask how my grandmother could forget someone so important such as a perfect granddaughter. I was confused at first considering that I was never the “perfect granddaughter” but they told me that my grandmother would always tell them and “show off” how helpful, kind, gentle, obedient and well-mannered I was. I will admit that I was very spoiled by her back in the days; she’d give me praises, buy me clothes and toys. Often my siblings would get jealous and wouldn’t let me do anything together with them and leave me hanging by myself. But that’s all in the past now, there won’t be any praises coming out of her nor would she be calling for me anymore…I’m going to give up trying now in helping her remembering me, because I’ve already been forgotten. I’m completely erased from her memories as her granddaughter. Now I’m just known as my cousin’s friend, a mere stranger. It’s okay though, I just hope that she doesn’t forget that I’ll always love her and be there for her.
But it still hurts, you know?
Please don’t tell me that my shyness is cute.
Yeah sure, I totally understand how people would find it cute for me or other people to show shyness and sometimes it’s flattering to hear those words (even for me)… But personally sometimes for me, not being able to talk to people isn’t cute. Struggling every day to try and communicate with others isn’t something you should associate with being cute. Something that has plagued me for my entire life, gotten me bullied, caused me to fall behind in school, kept me from living my life the way I want to, and has always had complete control over me is not something that is cute.
Please don’t ask me why I’m quiet.
I’m not a social person or a ‘people’ person. I don’t know why but that’s just me, it’s who I am. I can’t help it. But I don’t want to be like that… I’m trying so hard to fight it. I mean, honestly I like to talk, I have so many things I want to say, but I get the feeling that no one ever listens when I try, or I never even have the courage to attempt because I’m afraid of boring them.
My social anxiety isn’t a joke.
Please don’t tease me about it. Treating it lightly isn’t funny. There’s nothing funny about the thing that has launched you into depression and kept you from getting close to others.
My social anxiety isn’t something you need to remind me of.
I am well-aware, I assure you.
My social anxiety is something I’ve had to deal with all of my life.
I’ve come a long way from where I used to be, but it’s something I still struggle to fight every day.
My social anxiety is something I hate more than anything in the world.
I want to be an outgoing, happy person. This is the thing that tells me I can’t. The last thing I need is for others to tell me I can’t, as well.
Everybody tells me that I’m just the shy, cute, innocent girl, which I guess is fine but sometimes it makes me feel worse about myself as if I feel like I’m trapped inside of this identity. I can’t help that I’m overlooked. I can’t help that often, nobody listens when I try to speak. And even when I do talk I get this bored or uninterested look from people and they always end up saying one word after I’m done or like try to end the conversation with me and go talk to someone else. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Actually, maybe its because I can’t even tell a story without being disorganized with words, adding small details and taking a few pauses. Like for instance talking about what a movie was about and what happened, I have difficulties of formulating a smooth conversational dialogue without again,being disorganized. I can’t help this. But I’m trying so hard and practicing to get my words rights, and to fight against my social anxiety, because I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want people to know me as the “shy girl” or the dumb girl who can’t fucking tell a story smoothly. I just want people to know me as me.
I’ve been quiet and shy for so long that I’m not used to of talking so much and so openly to people.
So, if you have ever talked to me I would like to apologize for being a boring fuck. I really do enjoy talking to people but I am absolutely horrible, awkward and way too shy when making conversation with people I don’t know very well. Again, I am not a social person and don’t make a lot new friends or talk to new people in person well at all…the fact that I’m like that pisses me off, I am honestly really trying to change that for myself and for others. Now that I’m heading off to college I know that I HAVE TO talk to people and get connected in order for me to get help and get information. I truly do want to talk to people but I think I subconsciously block people out when it comes down to talking and I hate it. I think I can be an interesting and fun person to be friends with but I can’t show it. I have decided that I need to put work into being better at being sociable on and off line if I am going to be successful at life. I’m trying to practice talking with new different people so that I no longer have to struggle; So if you ever want to talk about anything please do contact me. I can be helpful and you talking to me would be helpful in achieving my goal of getting better at being a people person. Sorry about this long ass unnecessary post as well.
So please, I beg of you, think twice before you call someone shy, take the quiet kid for granted, or don’t take social anxiety seriously. Without realizing it, you may be pushing someone deeper and deeper into a hole they’ve been trying to dig their way out of for years.
My Old Man
As some of you know, I don’t really get along with my father. He’s the reason why I believe the Devil exists. He takes happiness away like it’s his favorite game. My dad was a real asshole to my mother and that is one of the reasons I think we butt heads a lot. I hate him for how he treats my mother, and for not being a responsible parent. As I grew, the bond with my mother strengthened and at the same time I grew to hate and resented my father. I mean, I probably I still have a very small place for him somewhere in my heart, but he gets on my damn nerves so much. He gets away with a lot of stuff, like A LOT and it really pisses my off. He’s a coward, a hypocrite, selfish and a lazy son of a bitch. My father and I are two very different people and we have heated arguments on my outlook on life. I am very laid back, I can support things like gay marriage (no I’m not gay), and am very open to having friendships with people of different races cultures. He is very pro-advancement of his own kind, no interracial dating etc etc. you know what I mean. It really bothers me, he asks me like do you have any gay friends, how many of your friends are black/white/asian/etc….why don’t you have more_____ friends. Why don’t you like your own kind? Why do you like those type of people? WHY DO YOU LIKE THIS? WHY DO YOU LIKE THAT? UGH, it just gets really aggravating. Mind you I’m not in an interracial relationship or anything but being in high school and college exposes you to a diverse range of people. All of which I happen to be open to having friendships with. I always get tired of hearing his speeches, after a while it just a bunch of bullshit rhetoric about nothing. I was so tired of all the crap that he threw at me that one day I just blew up in front of him. Twas quite a shock for him to see me so angry and yelling at him because it was coming from ME, the one that he used to consider as his “favorite” was talking back to him and screaming in anger.
My dad and I, we weren’t always so distant and hateful towards each other. There were a few moments where I remember we shared something special between a father and a daughter. Like I said before, I was considered his favorite before we started to move further apart from each other in our lives. Maybe it was because I would always listen to his moral life lessons and not only look up to them but him too, or maybe it was because I was more of a wall flower type rather than a communicative type like my sister and brother… because I was different. The reason why he chose me as a favorite I may never know. But that was all in the past, my father is just an ass in my eyes. I wish he wasn’t but he just is. I drive him crazy because I just ignore him because he gets mad about absolutely the dumbest things. He seems to care about his parents and siblings more than any of us. I know he’s just trying to juggle being a good parent and being a good son and brother, but it gets to me. I could never accept him. But enough of the rambling… I actually wanted to talk about what he did tonight that kinda shocked me.
So Just two hours ago, he came home from work with some boxes and files in his hands. Just before I could reach my room again after plainly greeting him, he called out for me in the kitchen saying that he needed me for a minute. Once I reached into the kitchen he opened his bag and gave me a brand new binder and in it was all these math lessons of college algebra, calculus and such; It was one of those binder text books they sell in colleges that’s worth about $200. I asked how he managed to get his hands on such textbook. He replied with a small smile that he knows everything and knows how to bargain well. He also found his old physician/medical book that I used to read on my own free time when I was younger.
“I thought you might need that before you head off. I know that math is not your greatest subject and since your mother and I can’t afford a tutor for you over there, I bought you that book. I heard it was great to use when you’re struggling to solve some problems. If you’re wondering who said it, it’s all the kids at work that went to your college. I bought it so that you don’t have to struggle and could learn peacefully without any confusion; it wasn’t easy getting it so take care of it. And since you used to read that medical book all the time in the past I want you to have it. I’m sure it’s no use in helping you in your pharmacy studying but you’ll never know, it might come in handy.”
That’s what he said and just like that he left to his room. I stood there for a few minutes looking at my new textbook and wondered about so many things. I had a strange feeling at that moment… I guess you can say it was really awkward to receive a gift from my father first time in years. I mean you can’t blame for feeling that way right? We’re not as close to each other after all. We became distant and we don’t like each other. He made us become that way. I don’t really know the man as I did before.
Him buying such an expensive useful book instead of his usual box of cigarettes and beer bottles is a rare sight to see; But I know that this is just one of those patterns of “once in every 4 year presents” thing he does with us, so it’s not something to be jittering up and down happily about. Although I’m not fully content with his unusual sudden engagement in buying me this, it feels nice to know that he at least cares a little about me and my education. Last thing he did tonight that made me laugh a bit was that he came in the entertainment room, grabs a pen and draws a little check mark on my skin and said, “Mom told me to come and check on you” I haven’t had heard or seen this type of humor from him in years too. It was awkward but funny.
Idk I just had to share this because it was really rare for me to see my dad like this and to receive something out of the blue from him. I guess he still has some good in him.
So sorry this was late. I hope you get the chance to read this when you can Kyle. :)
I originally wanted to write you about why you’re my best friend and write all the generic reasons and adorable anecdotes, but I’m not going to do that because you already know why you’re my best friend, duh. If you didn’t, we probably wouldn’t have remained friends all these years. How long has it been? 19 years? 22? Actually I have no idea since it’s been that long, after all you were there when I was born, but I’m not sure if I should count that because I had no memory of you at that time. xD
Kyle, you are such a tall, handsome, smart, strong, funny, and kind-hearted young man. There’s so many things I want to say and thank you for. After you graduated and left AZ for college I was so happy and proud of you, yet I was so worried because I thought that maybe our friendship would change, that YOU would change into someone totally different. Someone who I wouldn’t recognize as my old Kai, but you didn’t, you’re still the same Kyle I’ve known since day one…Except more matured and grown up hahaha. I’m really happy that you’re still you. Before going onto the details of our friendship, I wanted to first tell you that my mom is sending you some pokey and some of that ju-ju bottles/sticks that we used to love and eat when we were little. She misses you too and thinks it’ll help you bring up happy memories and help with all the stress too. :D Well anyways, here we go with the many thank yous.
Thank you for always being closest to me when we were little, even now, despite the fact we now live in different states and had separate stages of life. Thank you for not letting us get split by dumb facts like distance or time. Thank you for never giving up on our friendship, for never shrugging and being like “Eh, things change, people change” and drifting away vaguely. We all get distant to a certain degree when we make huge transitions but you didn’t let me get very far because you knew what was truly important.
Thank you for taking care of me in every way possible, for being there when no one else was or wanted to be and when you didn’t even have to be. Everyone has those friends who are close but not really; who you always feel kind of awkward and weird about asking for help and like you have to clarify you’ll do them some kind of favor in return, but you’re not one of those people. You are like a kind older brother to me, you never got mad when I called you for weeks on end because I was scared and miserable when my father would yell and beat at us; you were right there to pick up my heart-splinters when things predictably shattered. You are one of the witnesses to have seen my father’s heinous doings and beatings to our family. You would always take me and my brother back to your house to let us spend time away from home from our dad. You’d sit there with me one to one and ask me if I’M okay. You worry about me because you know from stories how bad my parents fighting affects me. You were and are there for everything, no bargaining or explanations needed.
Thank you for being a different friend than everyone else, different from the friends who are only there for the fun things, the art museums and shopping and benders and brunch. Again, you are like a kind older brother to me, so I’ve never been to an art museum with you because I’m sure we would end up arguing over whether or not so and so art was any good, but I still feel like I can do anything with you and it won’t suck. Thank you for always being so funny and fun even when we’re not having fun. I don’t know how else to explain that.
Thank you for believing in me when I was too weak and exhausted to believe in myself. Thank you for pushing me, for repeating those inspirational affirmations that may mean everything when someone who cares about you says them. Thank you for not judging me when I did something really stupid, but also thanks for telling me I was an idiot and probably shouldn’t have done the stupid thing. hahaha Thank you for always being honest with me. Honesty in helping me pick out my prom dress and telling me to not wear the ones that looked weird on me. (omg so sorry to drag you that day!! It must have been boring and tiredsome BUT THANKS!! OH AND THANKS FOR COMING TO MY HOMECOMING WITH ME!~~)
Thank you for doing all the things a real best friend does or what an older brother does; for letting me sob into your shoulder when I need to and kissing me on every injury I’ve had (how you used to say it,“boo boo’s”) to make the pain go away when we were little. Also for sticking up for me and telling me that you would beat anyone up who ever wanted to threaten me. Thank you for always knowing who I am and reminding me of that when I forget. Thank you for being genuinely concerned with the outcome of my life and always listening, even when you’re tired. Thank you for telling me the things no one wants to hear (truth wise) and sparing the bullshit advice.
And I don’t know why I’m saying this now but… you know how you would give me pecks on the forehead or the cheeks and I’d always get embarrass and tell you to stop? Well the truth is, I really don’t you to stop because I appreciate them. To me, those kisses are one of the most encouraging acts you do for me. Those kisses tell me that you care, you love, and you cherish me as one of your important people in your life. You’ve had done that since we were little and you never stopped; It really warms up my heart. So thank you for that, I can’t think of many other people I’d actually take a bullet for.
And yeah, I know you’re going through a lot right now…LIKE A LOT, and you’re busy with college and work. I just want you to know that I’m here and you can talk to me and I’ll listen. I owe you so much already, you’ve given me so much in the past and I’m truly thankful for that. Now it’s my turn to return you the favor. Thank you. Love and kisses <3
Your Best Friend Ritz :D
LOOOL BTW I THOUGHT THIS MIGHT CHEER YOU UP! I don’t know, like I found this in my usb when I was throwing away all the old documents from school. DO YOU REMEMBER? We were playing on your little Logitech thingy? Date said it was made in 2010 xD Do you have the original by chance? without all the blobs and stuff on it?? D:
I realize that some of you know me, and some of you do not. For some, I am a best friend, I’m that friend who will listen to all your stories and sometimes would give advices. The friend who will act silly with you, laugh and reminisce all the fun memories we shared together. But for some people I’m a reoccurring face, a friendly face perhaps. A face that you’ve conversed with that you know. Someone you say hi too, or text. I’m the person you need to fill up your car on a group trip to the beach.
For some people I’m just a filler, a person in the background of their life, for some I’m a face in the hallway, at work, or the classroom. I’m that girl singing all the Disney themes at top volume at the stoplight. I’m that annoying girl at lunch talking loudly and laughing with her friends. I’m the dumb girl in math who asks too many questions and gets teary eyed during tests. I’m the ugly quiet girl who you mock, or feel bad for. I’m the know-it-all in English class. I’m the whatever for your life. I’m that background character in the show of your life, starring you.
I felt as if though I’ve been a Filler most of my life. Most the time I don’t mind it, it’s better to have someone than no-one. But sometimes it kinda hurts; it feels lonely somewhat. I had a friend told me once that I was just something pretty to look at… without me, the group of friends wouldn’t be complete. Yeah I guess I was happy to complete a group but I felt a sharp pain in my chest after hearing the the first few words from them. I felt unimportant, felt as if I was an object in the group used for decoration.
I can relate to a tumblr blogger: Jsyee. They wrote: I hate being the third person, awkwardly standing on the side. I hate being invited to something but being totally ignored. I hate it when all of my friends go somewhere and not tell me. I hate not understanding an inside joke. Being left out is terrible. It leaves you lonely and empty.
Being left out by your friends is an awful feeling. I apologize to my friends, I’m sorry I can’t be funnier, more talkative, more entertaining, more of a party person, be less awkward, be less annoying, or even be less conservative than I already am, in the group of friends I have. But maybe one day, I might be someone’s someone. I’ll be the opposite of their background. I’ll be their center stage. I won’t be just a friendly face, or an extra friend on a trip. I will be the one. The one they cherish. I’ve never had people really cherish me without getting annoyed or irritated. I’ll be their first choice in life. I think that’s something worth waiting for. I won’t be a forgotten background. I’ll be noticed, by the most important. So it’s okay I’m not noticed now. It’s okay that my phone isn’t blowing up with texts, and that my friends don’t call anymore. They needed me to fill up a space in their lives, which now they no longer need. And that’s fine. That only means my someone or something is coming. Soon my days as a filler will be over, maybe one day I can be important, I can be a somebody to someone. This doesn’t necessarily have to be an a romantic way, but a charitable friendship that lasts forever. Friendship that we keep close to us as we grow into our old age.
Right now, the group of friends I’ve been with or hung out recently have shown me that I’m not just a pretty decoration in the group or a filler, but a real genuine friend. Thanks for accepting me just the way I am… for who I am. The new friends I’ve made in the past 4 years were the ones that I felt most comfortable in talking about almost just anything, whether it be something personal or a short story that happened that day…Because they understood me and I understood them (Y’all know who you guys are since I’ve just recently hung out with you guys this summer). They were completely different from the others because of the fact that we both could relate to each other, talk things out together, laugh with each other and helping each other. I just want to say thank you to those who still kept in touch with me and invited me to many of the fun events and dates we’ve been to. Since we’re all are going on our separate ways soon to pursue our successful future, let’s make the most of our time spending it together before we head off. Thanks again.
You fight for what you can
Some battles you win some you loose
Some will bring joy and some pain
But you don’t give up
You fight, full strength
If you loose. It’s not the end.
You try again until you succeed.
Yesterday afternoon while my mother tried to fix my necklace that she had accidentally broke a year ago; she noticed that my hair had grown fairly long since I had my last haircut. I lied on my bed with my hair covering my whole entire face and back that it made my mother say: “Aren’t you hot underneath that long hair of yours? Just by looking at you with your hair covering almost half of your body makes me hot.” She laughed afterwards and told me to sit up. I didn’t know what she was doing until she grabbed a large chunk of my hair and started to brush through them with her fingertips. She simply told me that she was going to braid my hair in a traditional Korean styled Daeng’gi Meori (댕기머리).It has been years since she braided my hair, the last time she braided it was when I was 10 years old; however in total she has only done it 5 times in her whole entire life. After when she was done with my hair, I looked to the mirror smiling and said that it looked pretty and that I felt naked at the same time since I’m not used to putting my hair up. She laughed at me for a while and told me that I probably would have said differently if I were 6 again. She said that I would’ve said that I felt like a princess and run around the house showing it off to everyone … even to my dolls for heaven sake.
“I guess this is the last time I’ll ever get to braid your hair like this … Seriously, what I’m I doing? There’s no point in me waiting for you to giggle like your 6 year old self again and running around happily in the house again with your toys… you’re getting older…It’s too late now, I missed my chances. It’s like one minute I look at you all, so young, innocent, and naïve playing with your toys, then when I turn back to work and turn back again you guys are already grown up into your teens and adulthood. It’s like, what happened? Where’s the middle part of this childhood chapter? This feeling is different. It’s not as happy and young like it used to be… it feels old and boring… I don’t like it.”
My mom sighed, putting on a weak smile she sadly told me that she wished for a time machine to take all of us back when my siblings and I were kids… Because she said those were the times she liked the most: the times where she could play with us when she had the time, the time where she could sleep with us on her bed every other Friday and Saturday night, and the time where she could make arts and crafts with us …But… those were also the time that she had been absent most of the time in our childhood life. She tells me that she’s truly sorry about missing out on our childhood when we really needed her love the most. But I don’t blame her, it’s not her fault at all; and yes I’ll say this like I’ve said it in all my thought posts: I blame my father and his family for her to miss out on us. My father, being a lazy ass not getting a job, always drinking and smoking and quitting college after a month forced onto my mother to work LITERALLY for him just to pay the bills, buy food and pay car insurance. And his family always pushing her around and saying negative things about her. But she survived through it all these years, and I don’t even know how she lived through it or where she got her energy to push herself through. If I were her I would have divorced with him a long time ago… but I guess most of us Asians probably already know that it’s not an easy decision to go through because it’ll ruin what we care about the most: Our Pride, and Our Reputation. Anyways, while growing up my sibling and I hardly had any time to spend time with our mother because she was so preoccupied with work and chores; she worked in the postal service from 9am to 10:30pm on most days and the only time we could ever see her was Sundays and sometimes Fridays and Saturdays. Sometimes my siblings and I would get scold by our grandmother if she caught us trying to call our mother while she was at work or trying to sleep together with her on Fridays and Saturdays. For me, when I didn’t want to get caught with my grandma, at school I’d pretend that I didn’t feel well and go to the nurses office just to call up my mom and talk to her. Sure it was lonesome of not seeing her on most days, but at least we got to see her once every while… it was better than not seeing her at all right?
I admire everything about my mother, she’s my hero. She’s awesome, kind, gentle, wise, caring and beautiful… just like how a mother should be. Now I’m going off to my sister in Tucson for my PharmD… and for me it’s going to be really hard leaving her behind because I have so much to thank her for. I’m not going into my PharmD just for myself, but for her especially. She’s growing old, already tired, and her body is in pain from too much work. I don’t want her to be like that anymore, that’s why I want to pursue getting myself a doctorates so that she no longer has to struggle with everything being thrown at her. I’m going make her proud, just watch… even if there are moments where I’ll be crying and wanting to die because of all the hard work given to me, I’ll have to pass through and continue on… I have to… If I don’t, I’ll fail my mother and my siblings, I hate to be a disappointment. I have to get that small sheet of paper for what people call a freaking DEGREE, a key to make your life so much easier. SERIOUSLY. I swear though, I will keep my promise that my siblings and I made to make her happy. Just you wait and see. I’ll succeed.
Haha and I said that she could braid my hair anytime she wanted to. Even when I’m like 67 she still can…that is if … she’s still alive and well. She was so excited. ^_^
It’s not your fault, it never was. I don’t blame you and neither does you other two children. If anything, we’ll always forgive you for something bad you have done. You’re our mother after all we can’t get angry at you for long. So don’t beat yourself up.
Thank you so much Mom for everything. <3
When I was little, I always wanted to become someone who was strong, yet vulnerable. But now that I’ve witnessed someone who is hurting because of becoming that hero, I can’t help but to say that I can’t say ‘thank you’ no more. But some how show it?
I remember that when I was a child, I’ve always wanted to become either a Fire Fighter, Air Force or be on the SWAT team. I wanted to become something like an invincible super soldier, something where you felt strong but still vulnerable. I loved the heads up display of the suit of armor, the weapon usages and different tactics, but most of all I loved the idea of saving lives and protecting others even if it meant risking my own life. I’ve always wanted to become a Hero like that. But my parents disapproved each and every single one, well besides the Air force but they still recommended me not to. And for the reason why they disapproved was because of all due to one thing: Possibility of Death.
Yesterday before going home, my sister and I went to the university’s ROTC program to take on the obstacle courses (just for fun that is) to see if I’m eligible to get in. I managed to receive a higher score than what I had originally planned to get and some how I managed to get one of the AF Captain’s attention when I ran through the agility course. He told me that he was amazed with me and asked if I had any intention of getting into the program and move onto the AF. When I explained that I wasn’t and was going for my PharmD he gave me a soft smile saying, “I guess you’re that type of Hero then.” When I gave him a confused look he continued with, “There’s two types of heroes in this world, the ones who risks their lives for others, and the ones that saves the person who is risking their lives from the background. You apparently will become someone who works behind us keeping us alive and well. And I thank you for that.” I explained to him that I wasn’t always like that, that I’ve always wanted to be a hero putting my life on the line and what not; it was just my parents stubbornness that kept me from becoming one.
“It’s because of Death isn’t it?” he questioned me and he was exactly right. It was really strange considering that we talked about death and sacrifice for like 10 minutes, but I felt something spark in me when we talked about thanking and remembrance to heroes that live among us now and after death. I said to him at least he’ll be remembered after he dies, and me, well, I can be replaced by someone without having my name acknowledged for what I’ve done. Heroes like him have it better off than we do when it comes to remembrance and thanks. He chuckled at my comment and said that that was not true. “It’s better if you stay off of working in something that takes your life. Avoid death and the insincerity you get from some people” even more confused I then asked him what he meant and about his thoughts about this topic. With his words he explained, (typing this off of memory or what truly caught my attention)
“I think for every veteran, their experiences are so unique and personal that it can be maddening trying to explain it to anyone. The whole rest of the world is outside your experience. Becoming a hero like this is truly exciting at first, helping people and protecting what’s important to you. I love my job. I truly appreciate the thanks I get from people, I really do, but nowadays I cringe every time when someone says, ‘Thank you for your service.’ It sounds so cliched and fraudulent that I just want to get away from them.” “The reason is that I’ve witnessed several of events of people faking it. I am tired of the ruse people are playing on these brave citizens in our armed forces. And guess what — a lot of these soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines see right through the bullshit of those words, ‘I support the troops!,’ spoken by Americans with such false sincerity — false because our actions don’t match our words. Yes, I do think that deep down they might actually care and thank us. But do they really? I think they say those words in that moment and ONLY that moment. Then afterwards they forget and leave.”
“You said you were going for your PharmD right? you’ll always be needed everyday. As for us, even though we are here everyday looking out for danger and protecting, we’re only needed when trouble comes. and trouble only lasts for an indefinite amount of time. The Health and Medical industry, it’s forever.”
At that moment I had so much empathy for him, I mean, personally I would get annoyed with all the empty thank yous from people. I felt so much pity and all my feels were out of place. Despite the fact that he still says he’s a0 proud member in the AF, I felt that he was still hurting deep down in silence. A hero like him whom everyone appreciates but then again only for a moment and forgets, and is only needed for when the time of danger comes.
I don’t think that he realizes that some people on this earth are truly thankful for people like him to protect us. But then again… its only SOME, I bet most people in this world are careless towards these heroes. I don’t think that we give enough thanks to those who are constantly looking out for us for our safety; The Police, The Military, Fire Fighters etc. For years we’ve been asking about the modern veterans (not only in the military) experience: what it’s like to serve in — and then we thank them for what they’ve done for us…unfortunately we leave and forget that we’d even said anything. They’ve told us they appreciate the support people show them. But often those words of support isn’t enough, and I bet most of those veterans have grown to loathe the cliche phrase.
I really wish that there was a way we could show that we really do care instead of saying those simple words. These heroes really do have it worse than those who work in the background saving their asses. I now feel that if I were to say ‘thank you’ to them that I’d hurt them, even though I truly don’t mean to. I feel so much pity for them. What are we supposed to say to them now? What are we supposed to do to show them that we are thankful?
This is a moment that I’ll always remember because I’ve witnessed a sad truth and confession from a Captain, someone whose been hurting deep inside for a long time but despite everything stood strong and kept his head high. I admire his determination and optimism. I really admire people who can work in such difficult conditions like him. It was an honor speaking with him and learning about his job and his thoughts on certain topics. Although I won’t go into the ROTC program that I had planned on going to, I really hope that we’d meet again in the future.
People like you are always needed. Please don’t think so low of yourselves. :)
Another Memory Lane: FF15 Gif
I really love the gif of the new Final Fantasy 15 game where the young Prince Noctis and his father are eating their meal together at the table. When I saw it I immediately remembered a flashback of something very similar that happened to me when I was young.
I was 6 at the time when my mother and I were in Korea visiting her best friend and her rich husband down southeast of Gwangju. Their house was an old tradition styled household, it was fairly big, and all I could remember was that they had at least 1 butler, 1 maid and a middle aged women who was their cook at the time. I thought she was a 70 year old lady judging by her appearance but I guess I was wrong, well then again I was young and had a different perspective of people.
After the night we arrived, the next day my mother’s friend and her husband suddenly had an urgent call from her mother in-law’s sudden collapse and was held in the hospital. She left my mother in charge of the house for a week until they have cleared up everything. Everything went well, I got to play, I got to explore, and pretty much did everything to keep myself entertained. But the one thing that I hated was eating meals there. I could tell you honestly that eating over there was terrible and hell for me. The food tasted awful. Sometimes after when I’m done chewing the food, I would secretly spit all of it out into a napkin and throw it away. I’d even try to feeding it to the dogs but even they won’t eat it! hahaha!
So when dinner time came around on the fifth day, my mother and I were sitting in dinning table alone eating Kimchi jjigae. I wasn’t too fond of eating hot spicy food nor was I really into tofu, but I would always give it a shot and see how it tastes; however the results were always the same: it was disgusting. My mother noticed my disgusted expression and asked why I wasn’t eating. I simply told the honest truth that it was awful and asked why on earth couldn’t that old cook actually cook, she was simply getting too old.
Now I don’t know if you guys know this, but in Korea even with just one little mistake or disapproval from someone whose a higher class or rank than you can get you fired immediately as well as word spreading out fast on how you handle your duty. My mother just laughed at me and told me that all Families have different preferences in food. She even tried getting me to sympathize the food itself that it wants to be eaten with love (and if I didn’t it’ll rotten without having its love xD) but as stubborn as I was I refused to eat.
Mother: “You know, you shouldn’t say that it tastes awful even if it really does tastes bad. Be thankful that you’re at least being fed. If you were to say that right now in front my friend and her husband they’d have their cook fired by now.”
Me: “They should, they can get a better one. A cook that can actually cook…”
Mother: “Like I said, everyone has their own preference. Besides you wouldn’t want the cook’s dreams to be crushed right? And you wouldn’t want to spoil my friend’s friendship with the only friend she has in this household right? There is a reason why this Chef cooks this way.”
Apparently the cook had work hard her entire life to get into a high ranking spot as a cook in the household of rich people. As a child her father passed away and her mother was bedridden and ill through out her high school and culinary school years. She lived a hard life taking several jobs to support her school payments, her mother’s hospital bills, and herself. As for my mother’s friend, although she’s very happy to be the wife of someone whom she fell in love with in college, her mother in-law gives her a hard time and treats her like crap, constantly telling her that she isn’t good enough to be her son’s husband. Also most importantly her husband and her can’t eat some variety of spices, sugar, and sauces; which then causes them to eat plain dishes or something out of the ordinary (that’s probably why I thought everything tasted gross). With all her stressful and sad feelings bottled up to herself, she would always go to the back garden and cry to herself. After when she met her personal cook after 4 months of her marriage they found out they can relate to each other and quickly became friends, telling each other almost about everything.
After hearing that from my mother, I felt moved. My mother honestly told me that she too didn’t like the Kimchi jjigae but sucked it up and ate the whole thing giving me the same antagonistic look that Prince Noctis’s father gave after taking a sip from the green soup. As for me I did the same thing Noctis did, I smiled and laughed at her expression and pretty much gave in. I felt pretty sympathetic towards the Chef and my mother’s friend. A woman who started out poor and made her way up to the top. And another woman who stood strong even though she was constantly nagged from her rude mother in-law and also someone who dealt with her stomach problems and can’t eat variety of foods. I felt a lot of empathy towards them. Afterwards I pretty much had to suck it up and eat the food that were given to us for the whole 2 weeks we’ve been there. I felt relieved that I didn’t have to break off such good friendship and a perfect dream. If I did, I’d probably would feel horrible. Really?… getting fired and ruining a friendship just because a stupid kid like me said that the food was awful disgusting… It’s ridiculous and harsh now that I think about it.
I’m really glad that I was able to handle myself back there. I learned to not be a rude little brat, learned to suck it up when something I didn’t like was put out in front of me, and learned to restrain myself from saying such harsh negative criticism to others works and style.There must be a reason why they have a certain taste and style.
Seriously, every time I see the FF15 gif of the two eating together it never seems to fail to make me smile and laugh. It brings back so many memories of when I was a child. I’ll always reblog this gif.
I’m so sorry that you had to read this long stupid story… but it just really made me happy. Yeah these were the life lessons I learned from my mother. YEAH. DON’T BE A SELFISH STUBBORN BRAT, AND SUCK IT UP.
At first: LOOL OH THIS TAG HUH?… THIS WILL BE FUN WON’T IT?
THREE-FOUR HOURS LATER…
UGHHH, FINALLY DONE. YOU HAPPY ANON?!
Rita took: 2 hours. (I was eating too ^_^)
Kyle took: 25-35 minutes.
Brian took: 15 minutes.
WE NEEDED MORE COLORS… WHY PAINT?!!! WHYYYYY?
Okay so when graduation day was coming up, I didn’t want to bring my dad to graduation but I also don’t want all the judgment people were going to give me for not bringing him. I think that’s the major reason why I held back on not inviting him. I told some people I might not bring him and they’re like, “well that’s your dad, he deserves to go” or “He’s your father, if you don’t bring him you’ll regret it.”and I TOTALLY understand that but a lot of them laughed at me and were like what’s wrong with you blah blah blah. I’m not quite sure I should give ANYONE entitlement to my life because every time I’ve done that, I’ve been torn apart.
I told some friends that I’d always be there, but the truth is, I only will be if they don’t do that to me. I don’t deserve trying to hang on to people that aren’t there. ANYWAYS. I hate my father. In fact, I’ve hated him my whole entire life. I don’t deserve to have someone at my graduation who has repeatedly threatened me physically and harmed me emotionally. He’s screamed at me more times than I can count, still causing me to be literally afraid of anyone that raises their voice to me. He actually screamed at me while I was talking to my friends on skype. Like WTF? He doesn’t let me out of the house to hangout or practically do anything, and I don’t have a phone to talk with so what am I supposed to do to connect with friends?! Seriously, yelling at me just because I’m talking with friends on the internet. I’ve watched him time after time make my mom cry and I’ve literally watched myself turn into him at times and I feel as though my old self that I wanted to lock away was crawling back to me, my old depressing, lost, dispiritedness, corrupted, disconsolated self.
When Graduation came around, he admitted that he didn’t want to go. Instead he’d rather go to work. Angered, my mother said to him that if he didn’t go then he’s nothing but another mere child to her and not a proper father nor husband and also threatened him that she’d kick him out of the house and divorce with him. I told my mother privately that I didn’t want him to go at all. She told me to stop having such fallacious thoughts and told me not to worry about it. After graduation my aunt forced me to take a picture with my father. I tried making excuses so that I could pass but we saw several family friends that headed over towards us and saw that we were going to take a picture. One of them took noticed my vexed expression and put me on the spot light when they asked why I looked so disappointed/annoyed/angry when taking pictures with my father. I knew if I said the truth they’d all judge me and my father would have made a scene. So like any other person I lied and said I was tired. Then they asked my father (teasingly) that was he proud of me?
Oh yes, I’m very proud of her. I was really looking forward coming to her graduation what kind of parent wouldn’t come? That’s horrible! I love my daughter and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
This ticked me off the most. All I could think of was: Lies, Lies, LIES!!
I hated that very moment because afterwards they all complimented him that he was a good father. I wanted to burst out my voice saying to them that they know nothing about him! They don’t know his real personality and character and that all that talk and smile was all behind a mask. All of him at that moment was FAKE.
After the day had almost ended, I went to my room and teared up a little because I was so angry. So angry at myself for not having the courage to tell him off and angry that I was born under his name. Ever since I was little, I always questioned why I had a father like him… In fact, why was I even born into this broken family? I pity for my siblings and myself, but out of everyone else… I feel more pity for my sweet, kind-hearted mother. She suffered greatly dealing with my father and his side of the family. He’s been a pretty shitty father and I’m pretty sure my siblings and I would have been dead by now if it wasn’t for my mom. He’d also be in jail if she hadn’t come to bail him out all those times. But do I really have time to explain all of this to all the people that will question where he is?
Now that I look back into my past, I remember that I once thought of killing myself because I was tired of living in hell in my father’s ascendancy and many other things I struggled about in life. But I’ve come to realize that now since I’m done with school and everything else that I ever wanted to do, that I did it. I’ve made it through and came far from many years of endurance and survival.
I can finally be free from my father’s authority and do what ever the hell I want. Although it may be a shame that my childhood was pretty much a mess and a cheerless one, but I now have a chance to make up for what I missed out. Friends, Connection, Fun, and free will.
Never again do I have to listen to his rules, his lies and just everything about him… I no longer have to see his pretentious self. The metal chains broke, finally, I am free from this misery.
All I have to do now is to see what life has got in stock for me and fulfill my promises I’ve made to those who are dearly close to me.
Here is my story.
Sorry this is late.
Sorry anon for posting this late, I had a hard time finishing it because it brought back so many memories. In matter in fact I was actually crying a little while writing this haha. Well here’s my story and your answer anon.
I once really, really liked this guy who was my long life childhood friend. From the moment we met as babies both our parents (good friends with each other) knew that him, his twin brother, and I were destined to become greatest friends for life. He was like an older brother to me at first, always joking around, teasing me, calling me names, helping with homework, and always telling me everything is going to be okay to me when I got scared of his grandfather’s scary war stories. He was literally the boy next door. His name was Zack Richard Wolfe.
Home videos show us spending entire days in each other’s houses in the old carpeted basement either playing pirates or playing a married couple. At the age of five, he was an ideal husband: caring, reliable, and submissive enough to be talked into almost anything. He would let me decided what we would eat for dinner, where we lived, the names of our imaginary children played by my old beloved Pokémon doll MEW and his huge space transformer-like robots. We lived near the south side of Glendale where his house was in the same row just 8 houses down from mine; easy enough to find him when I wanted to hang out, show him what I had drawn, or just simply put my mother’s lipstick on my sister’s old English sheep dog. Our parents spent hours on the back stoop watching us play. Even then, I liked the way Zack would make silly faces to his twin Riley in order to make him laugh or to just piss him off. He was obviously the boy who my parents jokingly thought that one day I’d marry- never mind the fact that he and his brother were the only boys I knew. When I was seven, Zack moved back to his hometown in Colorado due to his father’s change in posts in the Air force. I too had moved to another town in Glendale due to horrible environment and crime happening in the South. Even if I couldn’t walk over and swing open his old screeching screen door anymore, I continued to know in my bones that he would be able to visit me every summer. But just like every child, once we got older things started to change: change of thoughts, change in looks, and different feelings and Zack eventually started to stop visiting as the years passed. By then we had lost contact with each other for an extended amount of time.
It wasn’t till then I saw him again when I went to Starbucks with a couple of friends. Despite the fact that I had no idea how in the hell he recognized me after years of disconnection, it was an extremely special and happy moment for us. Best friends were reunited with each other; He grew extremely tall, hair longer, and grew more handsome than ever, but his personality was still the same as ever along with his prefect, goofy smile. At the end of the week before leaving off to Colorado again, we hugged while saying our goodbyes and exchange new addresses and numbers to stay in touch again.
Again just like before, Zack would visit every summer and we’d hangout together. It wasn’t then until I realized that of all the times we’ve been together since childhood, I found myself in love with him. He helped me survive the darkest days of my life, he gave me happiness when I was going through a long term of level 5 depression, helped me when I struggled with school or cope with uneventful occurrences happening in my household, took care of me when I got sick, and overall was just always being there when I needed him. However, I couldn’t bring myself up in telling him how much I really liked him. It wasn’t until a month later after summer vacation had started, he moved back here to “study up” on things and wanted hangout here where most of his family members and old friends were.
When I had realized that Zack hadn’t visited quite often like he used to, my mother told me that we needed to talk. I expected some lame drama about what’s happening to Zack’s other family in Colorado, but instead she told me that Zack had stage IIIC colon cancer. His lymph nodes came out positively cancerous, he was too weak and was already bed-ridden in the hospital getting chemotherapy, and systemic treatments just after 3 months he moved back here in AZ. The real reason why he moved back was because his doctor from Colorado had told his parents that he hadn’t had much time and told them to take him to someplace where he felt at home and happy in order to at least live a bit longer and spend time with family and friends before his time comes. With the last 2 months of visiting him in the hospital, filling the days with happy memories and cheers, on the 26th of March it was finally his time to pass. Everyone gathered around him with hands wrapped around each other and in tears as he spoke his last words to each individual surrounding the bed. Just before his eyes could betray him, at last minute I finally let out my feelings for him and thanking him for everything he’s done for me. With a weak smile I still remember his last words to me: “Thank you for loving me… beloved friend… always being there thank—-” he choked on the last words and before we all knew it, he had passed. During his funeral, I picked through the sympathy cards. Nothing said anything close to what I was feeling. I stood in the aisle my throat tight as I saw his dead corpse smiling just a little. I wished him a well on his journey to where ever he may be in his next life. After the funeral I watched the home video’s at Zack’s house of him, me and everyone else in our old neighborhood. After about 10 minutes, I started to sob so loudly that I ran up to his and his brother’s room locking myself up knowing that I can’t see or be with my best friend anymore. His brother came into the room already crying himself and stayed with me as we cried together for Zack, for his lovely family, for how unfair his death was, and for how we’d all miss him. Years passed and I had yet again suffered from a range of a level 7 depression stage. Since Zack’s death and with all the things happening in my family household as well as all the drama at school, I wanted nothing else to do with my life; I was honestly thinking about ending my life at one point but I knew that wouldn’t do me any good.
It wasn’t until 2011 I had met up with his twin, Riley, again only receiving a letter in the hand writing of Zack. It was a letter he written before he passed, it was about thanks, love, and memories. But the one thing that struck me the most in the letter was something he had written referring to one of the Buddhist beliefs: “In the next life, if we ever do meet again, I want to become best of friends once more. No, not once more, I want forever. It’s pointless to say this because its fate, we’re supposed to be together forever, we can’t avoid it. No matter how many times we die and forget, we’ll always end up meeting again.” This has always been something my mother had taught to both of us when we were young. A strong friendship met at infancy such as ours can never be pulverized. After reading the letter over and over, I felt as if a large amount of weight lifted off my back. I kept saying to myself that we’ll meet again, telling myself to not worry and just move on with life until my day has come.
I’d known Zack longer than any man in my life besides his brother, my friend Kyle and my father. He was a consolation that no matter how many guys who dumped you on Valentine’s Day, there was at least one guy out there that was strong willed, funny, optimistic, reliable, kind, and handsome: Zack. If we ever meet again in the next life, I’d fall in love with him all over again.
People who know me personally, from school, or work, please read.
I just want to warn you guys that when we come back from break or work or anything else… I just wanted to say that I will be quiet most the time and will be alienating myself from everyone for quite sometime. Please, don’t give me any pity, it makes it worse for me.
My grandmother is going to pass on soon, one of the saddest thing that will ever happen to me.
That is what is going starting everything. Now I find that I’m anxious and depressed, and that everything I was pushing to the back of my mind is tumbling out to cover me.
She’s dying of diabetes and kidney failure, and probably won’t see April or May of this year. There is no hope for her to get better, and she is getting sicker by the day. I was lucky to be able to spend almost every weekend and my spring break with her, and to chat on the phone almost every day. The time spent talking, playing a Korean card game called Go-Stop and in silence, with her, is my greatest comfort now.
You don’t have to read this next section if you don’t want to. It’s just a long note I wrote to get my feelings and story out to set me at ease a little. For anybody who wants to, feel free to read.
I admit, I’ve probably have been the worse Granddaughter in history.
My Grandmother, someone who has been one of the most important people in my life. She is the one who raised me since I came into this world. Since my own mother at the time was working and left her absent in my childhood life, my grandmother was practically considered my ‘mother’. Growing up with her though, sometimes had its happy moments and harsh moments, but when raising me, I was her favorite granddaughter, she always spoiled me with gifts and surprises telling me not to tell any of my other siblings that she had done such things and also making me freshly made dumplings and omelet every month which I loved the most. I loved her very much, everyday we would watch her favorite TV show: The Price is Right and Wrestling; I thought we would be like this together, always laughing and smiling.
But when I got up to the age of 9 that’s when I got really fed up with her. Always doing chores, cleaning, not being able to play with friends, bossing us around, telling me what to wear and not to wear, always brushing and doing my hair painfully, rude to my friends (giving unwelcoming glares and yelling at them), and strict rules of why I couldn’t call my mom when I missed her while she was at work and etc. Urgh, I hated it. I even said to my friends at school that I had wished she would just hurry up and die already. When the age of 13 came around for me her diabetes became worse and had to head off to my Aunt’s house to be under their care, which I then became the most happiest person for her to finally leave out of our house.With her finally out of the house, life for me was turning out the way I expected to: No more doing this and that, and thank god no more of being forced to go to Church (NO OFFENSE, I’m Buddhist). I got to hang out with friends more frequently and had my own freedom. Life was great.
It then became around the time when I was finally 15, although she visited only 2-3 times a month, she still was her old stubborn self but in ways she became some what nicer, and I guess ‘cute’ from the way she does and say things. The times she visited it was always either playing Go-Stop till midnight with her or watch her favorite TV shows. However, I noticed that each time she visited, she had always watered and watched her favorite plant (Like she had forever) that sat next to the backyard window in my house. She was just staring at it with smiles and always said: “Please live long with me and I’ll live long with you. Be healthy and don’t go spoiled.”
Few months later, my family found out she was getting Alzheimer’s disease, there was a time where she seemed like she had forgotten who I was. It was really scary, when she came over again, I gave hugs and held her hand with smiles but she suddenly pushed my hands away giving me a strange look and left to go to her room. Luckily though it was just that one time. The next time she visited she noticed that some of her her plant’s leaves were turning yellow (I mean, no one really took care of it besides her). Since she wasn’t able to take the plant with her, she past the job down to me. Word for word I remember her saying: “Rita, Please, take care of my plant, If this plant dies then I die. Okay?” (She couldn’t take it with her because supposedly there was “No Room” for the plant at my aunt’s house)
Now I thought it was funny, not only because of her old Asian culture and beliefs, but at the same time, I was also reading a book for my Freshmen L.A. class called: Bless me Ultima, in which one of the characters (SPOILERS!) a nice old witch dies because her owl who held her soul was shot and killed. Like some teens would do, I just laughed it off not believing in such things and just nodded my head carelessly and said I would take care of it. I took care of the plant only about 4 months and stopped due to the amount of school work building up over the years, and my chronic depression added up causing me to forget to water and care for it as well as changing me in becoming more of an indifferent cold hearted person.
When she visited again, she started to yell at me for not doing my job. Leaves started turning yellow and black, and just by looking at her plant, my grandmother looked ill and weak too. She kept reminding me to water her plants and said over and over: “If this plant is sick, I’m sick, If this plant dies then I die”, but being a cold, careless bitch I was and still not believing my grandmother’s words I only then watered them once a month then continued to ignore it. When ever she called to see if I watered it, I’d always lie to her that I did just so that I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore… and she believed me, telling me what a good granddaughter I am and what not. Sometimes afterwards I would water it because of guilt, but most times, I felt nothing for the plant.
Early this January of 2013, Family discovered that her kidneys were dropping and failing slowly. I took more caution this time, after I had came home from visiting my grandmother I checked to see the plant only finding that it was turning yellow and brown on the sides (even though most leaves were still green and healthy). When February came around, although I had watered the plants regularly, the leaves continued to slowly turn yellow then to brown, eventually dying and falling off. I asked my mother if it was the soil that was going bad, she shook her head but she told me that even if the soil was going bad, we couldn’t use the ones here in America, but the ones in Korea; otherwise the soil in America will quickly kill the plant in matter of days. My mother told me that it ought to be the plant’s ‘time’ too.
Now its almost April, my Grandmother is weak, sick, and dying. No matter how much I tried taking care of her plant since January, it wouldn’t stop turning yellow and brown. I was too late. I’m angry at myself for being a cold, heartless, careless bitch… I had so many chances and time to actually take care of a simple matter and I ruined it. It’s all my fault, I am the one responsible for the way she is now. I started to cry, like, a lot. Remembering those fun and happy moments together with my grandmother, I’m going to miss her. I’m going to miss her delicious dishes she makes, playing Go-Stop, watching TV shows… I’m pretty much going to miss everything about her. My heart aches like never before. All of my spring break while visiting her, I couldn’t look at her in the face because I felt ashamed and guilty. On the sixth day of visiting, she had asked me what was wrong, I had explained to her about everything and burst into tears. She had a disappointed look on her face, but she smiled and said that she knows that I haven’t been doing what she asked me to do. Surprisingly, she said she was the one sorry for putting the responsibility on me while I was going through my chronic depression. Truth was, she said that she wanted to help me to finally ‘wake up’ from my depression and have something to care for again in my life.
She told me: “That plant may look like it’s dying, but its not. It lives on for a long, long, time almost like if it were immortal. That plant has been living long before I came along. And even if it does die, it has its surprises.You don’t have to worry, don’t cry, and don’t stress out. I’ll be fine, Just as long as you don’t forget me, I don’t care how I’m remembered, just so long as I’m not forgotten.”
After almost a week spending happy times with my grandmother, I left today with some sort of ease of mind and peace with the plant now being given to me from my Grandmother. When I got home today, my mother called me into the living room over to my grandmother’s plant and discovered a new blossom of green leaves coming deep between the withered leaves. She stated that it was beginning to have new life. I guessed that’s what my Grandmother meant by ‘surprises’. Metaphorically, my grandmother is dying but her soul is alive and reincarnated so that we may always have a piece of her (new sprout).
I really wished she wouldn’t have to leave us, but it’s life.I wish, though, that I had been brave enough to speak openly about what is happening to her. We did know that death was close, and we spoke about our love for each other, and about practical things such as how to improve her life as it was then - but I do wish that she could talk about the end and tell about her thoughts and feelings about this. But I thank my grandmother for truly being there for me always, I thank her for everything.
So I would add that it is important not to let your own fear get in the way of honesty, since there is no second chance.
Death is not the enemy. It is simply the end of our physical life on earth. For people who have strong beliefs, this should be the least scary thing that happens, since in most belief systems, whatever follows this life is better than this life.
Still though, I’m truly sorry Grandma…
I honestly don’t know how to order at sandwich subs.
Going to Subway or Blimpie is probably one of the worst places for me to eat at or for anyone who is willing to take me there out for lunch. Like seriously, it’s so embarrassing, not only for me, but for my friends as well. I always feel so sorry and bad for them that their friend (me) can’t take a simple order at a freaking sandwich shop.
In my opinion, I think it’s complicating ordering at sandwich subs. They ask what kind of a bread you want, what kind of cheese, what kind of meat… basically the ‘what kind of’ questions really gets me irritated. I mean seriously, can’t I just get a regular sub sandwich please, you know the kind where you only put mayonnaise on the two white breads, thin sliced ham, a slice of yellow cheese, a slice of tomato, one layer of lettuce and maybe a little spreading of honey mustard?????? Honestly.
I always get so nervous when I’m up to order, my hands start to fiddle with each other, my heart starts pounding really hard and I’m panicking towards the point where I get all quiet and overly shy. I know you guys think, I’m being overly being dramatic about it, I know, it’s just ordering a sandwich! What makes it so hard?! IT’S THE EASIEST THING TO DO!
I try to tell myself that over and over in my mind. I always have to practice at least five to ten times on what I’m going to say before actually getting up in line. To tell you the truth I always end up getting myself the meatball marinara, to me that’s the easiest thing to order. But it’s not like I actually want it… It gets tiring, ordering and eating it every single time I go to the subs. I try to order something else but it ends up being a failure.
Today I was out with my best friend Ryan, his girlfriend Amanda, and Keith who was another best friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in ages. When lunch time came around, they all voted for to go to Subway… As much as I wanted to say I wanted to go somewhere to eat, I could say anything because I didn’t want to have to stop them from having what they really wanted to eat. After a few speech practices in the car quietly to myself, I was for sure and was confident enough to finally get something new. But unfortunately once I step foot in there, all the feeling of anxiety takes over like it always has the past few years.
Likewise in the end, I ended up with another boring meatball marinara yet again. After my best friend Keith got his sub he suddenly switched his with mine and said to me, “That’s not what you wanted right? Here, I got you the one you practiced for throughout the whole ride.” I was or so I thought I was being quiet about practicing but he claims that he had bionic ears and could hear almost anything. Sure I was grateful, but having someone to pity me like that and having Keith eat something he didn’t even order for himself… I felt ashamed and embarrassed.
I hate having to be such a coward in all public places. TIS SO FWWWAHSTRATIN FOR MEHHH. T^T
For any friends who are reading this, if I have been, I’m sorry for being an embarrassment to you all… or unintentionally made you waste money on me just so that I could eat the sandwich I want and you having to eat something crappy. :I
I can’t sleep, thinking a bit too much again.
I think too much. Way too much.
I think so deep into things. The future, the past, the people, my challenges, my opportunities, and my failures, and my successes. it’s all on my mind.
I’m not gonna lie, I miss some of my old friends. I miss the good times, the jokes, and the secrets we shared. Things happen and people change….ohh well.
Growing up and not talking to each other anymore and then thinking how someone used to be so important… urgh it’s such a disgusting feeling and thought.
The thing is that I have wayyy too much going on in my life, problems that is between my friends and family.
Sometimes I would rather die (in a non-painful way) than have to deal with things. It’s selfish of me, but hey. It’s just that… it’s so hard to escape. No matter where I go, my problems always seem to follow me, crawling up my back and bringing me down with all its weight. Its sucks knowing that you can’t change people, or the world. I don’t believe that I can do this world any good as a whole.
(Prepare for ranting/stories/thoughts)
Anyways, speaking of friends, I’m starting to get really tired of all the shit they are involving me into all of a sudden (Especially this year and probably the first time I’ve ever been involved in stressful drama with friends). I already have a whole shit loads of problems I have to face given by my family, especially from my father and his side of the family. I’ve never liked any of them much. They all treat my mom, my siblings and I like were pieces of shit.
Seriously, I had enough. I don’t need all of their shit combined with my friends shit put together and thrown at me.
My family is very complicating. My parents occasionally have been fighting ever since I can remember. They’re moral enemies: Tiger(father) vs. Dragon (mother) find it funny? Trust me; it’s not funny at all… I hate it. And it’s not one of those verbal fights like most parents have, it’s beyond that. Glass shatter, physical fights, lots of yelling.
For a very long time, my mother had been saving up her money for my grandfather to repay him for buying our family a house since she was 29, Instead, in 2008 my father stole her money and bought my aunt and her family a house. After buying the house, my aunt didn’t want to pay the mortgage and decided to steal all the money to herself and ran away, making my father’s credit go bad and adding more of a burden onto my mother’s shoulder. I’ve never seen my mother cry so much. She had suffered living with my father’s family for years, treating her like trash, not once did they appreciate for what she has done for them. When she cried, it was one of the most heartbreaking scene of my life.
Since then, I’ve raged and hated my father and his side of the family more than anything and never trust them ever again. My two siblings and I had made a promise to my mother that we’d grow up to rebuild the money for my mother to repay her father. After the deed is done, we also promised each other to take care of her and her loving folks whom we can actually call a true, loving family. My mother saw the coming light and moved on since; supporting her three kids in earning the best future we could ever dream of.
Speaking of which, I want real love, and no I’m not talking about all the romantic lovey dovey feeling. I want something that gives me a stupid smile and a laugh at the first thought of it. The one that getsto me. I want something casual and passionate. And for that, I guess I need someone that will love me, and again not necessarily a romantic way but like a casual friendly way.
I want someone to love me for all the right reasons. I want someone to appreciate and understand me, and I only hope I can do the same for them. I want them to be consumed by how much they care for me, again a feeling only I could reciprocate. We would always get along well and be happy. We could talk about anything, big or small, and they could help me with even my silliest of problems.
I don’t know why I have to say this. I don’t even know why I have to say it now. But this is what I want. This is something that perhaps everyone wants but is steered away from because of other life experiences. Regardless of any of this, of anything that has happened or has yet to happen, I hope I find it.
I hope we all do.
Anyways, I just hope that, overall, my life will get better. You know what they say; bad things must happen in order for goods things to happen and make life a whole lot better.
Thank you… really, Thanks.
For those of you who already know about this, (You know who you guys are) I just want to say thank you again for being such awesome friends.
Thank you for not stopping to ask if I would like to hang out.
Thank you for stopping by at my house just to say hello.
Thank you very, very much for thinking about me. Even if you were thinking about me for only a second that’s fine, just as long as you didn’t forget about me.
Most of my friends don’t even come by or call to ask if I’d like to hangout anymore. I wouldn’t blame them though, having to say“No sorry I can’t, my dad said no.” most the time for an answer, my friends gotten so used to of it that they stopped calling or coming over. Others just think that I really don’t want to hangout because instead I’d rather want to go play video games or go on the computer.
That’s not true.
Yes I know, I should be able to do what ever I want at this age. But as a Korean woman, I’m still trapped and chained inside my house with strict rules made by my old man. I feel like each time I try to reach out for my own freedom, I’m constantly being pulled back by my father reminding me every day what my role is as a Korean woman, my role in culture, my role in heritage, and my role in tradition. Honestly, my house is a prison, all those things are whats holding me back from being with my friends and achieving what I really want to be, do, and wish for in my life.
Anyways back on thanking; those who still come over frequently and calling me, (even though again you guys already know my answer) I really do appreciate it, as well as understanding my circumstances of why I can’t hang out. At the end of the day after you all came to ask or called me and me saying my answer afterwards, I wanted to cry because not only was I happy, but I was extremely relieved that you all still cared. I feel like you all were thinking:
“Lets hang out today, I should ask Rita if she can come, heh, even though I already know what her answer will be… I still want to ask her, just in case if she can.”
Thanks for holding on to that little hope, the hope that I might just be able to hangout.
I know this is very selfish for me to say, but please, keep holding on to that little hope that I might be able to hang out. Its been a long time since I’ve hung out with friends…You have no idea how much I really really really want to spend time and hang with you all.
I’m truly sorry that I wasn’t able to come and be with you guys to join in the fun. Even if I’m not there, I’m happy that you all have good times together and I wished that you guys could stay happy like that forever.
Again thank you.
(I know too much thank you’s >_< But I really really mean it!)
Yes people, I used to be androphobic. Fear of MEN.
Yes, I have been scared of men for about 8 years, starting from the age of 4 to 12. Now since I’m older, I’m not really afraid like I was before, I actually like them a lot BUT I am still suspicious of all men and guys my age I meet.
I’ve been scared of men since I was little because my father didn’t respect my mother and my siblings as well as myself, how he should and did stuff he shouldn’t have then. I’ve gone through emotionally and physically abusive relationships which left me scared of men. I also didn’t grow up having a lot of guy friends at the time, I’ve only had 4 best childhood friends, Riley, Zack (who has passed away a couple of years ago), Kyle, and Keith (who I haven’t talked to in a while). When I hit the third grade, I made 2 new friends that came that were added onto my best friend list, Rico and Roger. Sure it was hard making friends with them, well for me it was that is, considering I was a really shy and timid girl, (and anthropophobic—I’m still am) but at the end everything worked out great.
Anyways, it takes a number of years for me to find out enough about a man to trust him. I have a brother but he’s someone I grew up with my whole entire life, we have the same parents, and same blood line. So yeah, it’s natural for me to become close to him. For some reason, I just don’t feel the same sort of human connection with men. Personally, I think of them as the dominant criminals living in this world. Yes, yes, I know I’m being a little bit too stereotypical here and sexist. But then again if you really think about it, it’s the truth. I mean, I know that men are the culprits for virtually all the sexual crimes that go on. And I know that they are often grown in a society that expects them to be unemotional, selfish, and intolerant, even violent during their childhood. No, I’m not saying that every man grows into this outcome, but I still believe that in the back of my mind that all guys have the potential to be very harmful.
I’ve known a lot of men who were disrespectful to the ladies, or worse, a lot worse; and I just never truly feel like I can be warm and welcoming to other guys. I try to be, on the outside by simply saying, “Hi, nice to meet you” but on the inside… I’m wondering where he just came from, what kind of things does he get up to?… I can’t seem to help it.
I guess that’s why you can say that I’m still single… because I’m suspicious and scared that I might get hurt from them. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate being single, in matter in fact, I like being single, it keeps me from putting myself in harm’s way and I don’t have to deal with all the horrible heart breaking break ups. I’m also not interested in marriage, considering seeing my parent’s relationship with each other. They’re always fighting abusively, yelling and breaking things in the house. IT’S HORRIBLE.
AND NO, IT DOES NOT MEAN THAT I’M A LEASBIAN OR WILL BECOME ONE. I’m totally straight, honest! I’m in no way sexually attracted to women. I’m Anthropophobic which means I’m scared of people and their social company, which includes women people! LOL.
Now as for me being an anthropophobic (As I have been my whole entire life, even now), at the moment I’m just happy to be able to have a life and be accepted at school and work. I’m actually going to take back what I said before, maybe having someone to love isn’t such a bad idea, sure breakups are a pain in the butt but I guess it’s an experience that most all people must go through in their life. I’m hoping one day I’ll meet someone who will work with me to beat the anthropophobia and eventually be able to marry and have children… even though the thought of having kids isn’t really to my likings now, in the future your mind changes as you grow older right? So I’ll just have to wait and see when the years come and go.
I really shouldn’t have to deal with this. Seeing my parents fight and argue and slam shit. Do they have ANY idea what seeing that does to a 5 year old child? It MESSES THEM UP. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have to hold your mother while she breaks down sobbing in your arms? It is the worst feeling I have ever and will ever experience. It takes all of my strength and willpower not to say or do anything in retaliation because I don’t want to make things worse. But if my father EVER lays another hand on my mother, I will not be held responsible for what I do to him and my mom knows that I threatened to and WILL tell every single person whether they are a complete stranger, a family friend or any other friends what kind of a person he is and what horrible things he’s done to innocent others, including our a family. I even threatened that I’d call the police again… Hearing the word ‘police’ was always his weakness and fear. He would act as if he were superior on all of us in the house and start shit with us. But when we called the police and he heard sirens outside, his legs gets weak and his eyes widen in terror.
I swear, I’ll leave the house if this happens again. What makes the whole situation worse is that the little girl I’m babysitting, WHO IS ONLY 8 YEARS OLD witness this. I told her everything would be fine, but she knew things would get ugly. She was on the verge of crying until finally my brother had come with ice cream in his hand and gave it to her. He had also came with his IPod and a large headphone set for her so that she could not to hear all the yelling and things breaking in the house. When I was little, things like this made me cry and broke my heart when they were fighting just like today. Now since I’m older, I just roll my eyes and stay calm about it. Sometimes I would find myself gripping onto a sharp pencil and just imaging how good it would feel to just run out of my room and stab my father with it in the eye, the mouth or where ever…
Today I walked away from my parents’ room and towards mine. My little brother comes in my room and lies next to me in my room with a frustrated sigh. He asked, “Do you think mom and dad actually love each other? Or were they always this different?” it was a question that I couldn’t reply with a straight answer. Jokingly I said they were always different, considering they were enemies on the zodiac, one was a dragon trait and the other a tiger. But at one point they’ve must have loved each other and agreed to something at least once or twice. My brother chuckles but it dies within seconds and he says: “I hate this family sometimes… I don’t understand why life chose me to be put as a son for that old bastard. If mom ever had the chance to go back in time, I’d seriously would let her go all the way back where she’d never married or met that old man of mine. Even if it means erasing me in this world… She wouldn’t be suffering like this; instead, she’d be living happily with her life… and I want that for her.”
He and then asks me if I could call up my good childhood friend Kyle to see if we could stay at his place for tonight. Kyle has always been like an older brother to the both of us, so I could understand why he’d choose him over my other friends. He’s also one of the witnesses who have seen my father’s heinous doings and beatings to our family. So we went over there and while my brother is playing games on the computer, I sit with Kyle in the kitchen and he looks me in the eyes and asks me if I’M okay…he worries more about me because he knows from stories how bad their fighting affects me.
This will be one long sleepless night regardless of the fact that i work at 5am tomorrow.
I’m having this conversation with my friend about following your dreams, and doing what you truly love. I mean, people say to follow your dreams, but that’s hard when your parents don’t support your dream, or it’s belittled by society.
The conversation just reminded me of this other conversation I had with a friend today about how I know so much about Art and Artists. Now, this will connect to ‘following.your dreams’ in a bit. He asked me how I know so much about art, and I just said its been a thing of mine since I was little. I’ve always loved to draw everyday, hit up on some art books, googling favorite artist, works, taking note of what’s in, etc. I was also asked if I.would ever.pursue a career in art. Honestly, yes in a heart beat because it would be a dream to attend art galleries and shows from well-known names, critique, style-put together portraits, or design. And the thing is, I could care less about what I make as long I was creating something beautiful for other people to see. Unfortunately, you’re not exactly saving the word with art, or changing it, unless, of course, you become a famous artist and donate millions of dollars to an organization. Any who, I know my future lies in the Medical field - something where I can make a difference, helping those who are ill, I don’t know. My parents are in love with that plan, and I guess I am too.
I’m done because this is just some pointless rambling that shouldn’t go any further.
I love my neighbor’s son.
So my very good neighbor that lives diagonal to me has a 22 year old son that came back recently from Florida to visit. Today when I was outside in the backyard head banging to my jrock music (while watering the plants, lol I know), he so happens to come out and looks over to our side and says hello. It freaked me out so much that I literally took his greeting as a complaint that my music was too loud and I dropped the water hose running back. I took out my GazettE CD from the CD player and said that I was sorry countless times and then rushed inside the house.
I hear him say: “Wait no! Come back! I didn’t mean to scare you! You’ve done nothing wrong!”. But still as shy and embarrassed as ever, I didn’t come back out at all until a minute later he tells me that I left the waterhose running. So I come back outside looking like a red tomato turning off the water and as I’m rushing back into my house, he tells me to stop and asks me to play the music again. Soo I brought back my CD and played it again, he starts to smile and headbangs lightly telling me that he’s been a big fan of Jrock including Dir en Grey.
So as we’re talking and making good acquaintances with each other, his favorite song comes out and starts Head banging crazy. When I start to join along with him, his mom comes out and asks him what he’s doing and he answers:
“Mom me and my new fiancee are jamming out to my favorite song.” Then his mom laughs and is all like,”Then why don’t you and your “fiancee” both properly dance to it instead doing whatever your doing now”. Then he stops what he’s doing and looks at her with a frustrated look,
“Mom, me and my fiancee don’t dance… WE HEADBANG.”
A little something Personal from me.
I know this seems odd for me say for those of you who know me very well… Usually I’d keep these feelings bottled up to myself. But I just thought: Hey, they tell me a lot of their personal stories and deepest secrets… isn’t about time I share mine? Well, here it goes…
I’m in love.
I had a long time crush on someone… Currently still in love with them very much. Sure I’ve known a lot of boys in my life, but there is just only one whom I never took my eyes off. They’ve been my best and closest friend ever, even before we’ve started pre-school together.
Since both of our parents were such good friends, they sometimes teased us about how we must have been such great friends in our past lives or even that one day we’ll get married to each other. As young and naïve we were, obviously that was weird to us because… Why would you date your best friend right?
But as we got older, things obviously began to change for the both if us. They switched schools, lost their twin past away at the age of 14, and then moved to Colorado. As for myself, I stayed here in Arizona, gained a lot of weight because I had a serious illness for the past 5 years… which then later doctors forced me to stop playing any of my favorite sports, and currently a new illness growing in me as I get older.
Despite the changes, we were still able to see each other every summer. Laughing at fun old memories, creating new ones; at the time, life was great. I thought and wished nothing bad would happen, or that nothing else would change… I wanted this happy life we were living in to go on forever.
But just recently, their family had brought news to my family that I person whom I dearly loved ran away from home in Colorado and went off somewhere where their family, my family, their friends, and even I don’t know where.
I worry everyday… Just thinking… Are they doing okay on their own? What are they currently doing? Will they ever come back?
I have no clue, but I pray every night wishing that they are in good health and hope that one day they’ll come back.
Please, where ever you are my good friend.. Please come back. I’ll be waiting with open arms.
I have to believe that you’re out there.
I have to believe that, somewhere… in this world, this city, maybe farther away, and in a time close to us both, that you’re out there… That, even if you’re with someone now, even if life is inconveniently swirling us about different parts of this country, or another, that that irreplaceable part of your heart is waiting for me… that you will know, once our eyes meet, just as I will know - why no one else has ever remained true to either of us… because it was us all along… us, that hadn’t been given the chance to prove to us both, us hopelessly romantic dreamers, that we weren’t dreaming all along. Just waiting. Restlessly, anxiously… sometimes in despair, or doubt… but still knowing, as I do right now, as I feel you’re out there… Whether searching, or biding time, whether you consciously think on what I might be like and where I am, or if you walk aside another… I could never say I wish you would part with whomever it is that may currently hold your heart, your hope… but… If we are truly meant to be, as all the poets as wise ones say, that we’ll find our way to each other… that we’ll know in that first moment… that we may even feeleach other near, even before we witness what it is that has held us fast to each other in countless waking dreams all our lives…
Will we ever meet again my good friend? I do hope so.
When you decide to come back, I’ll be waiting with opened arms.
Again, I have to believe that you’re out there… I have to believe that this feeling that’s been part of me since I was a child has a truth that’s waiting to be discovered when the time is right for both of us… I have to believe you’re here…
What else?… What else could I possibly be living for?… Why else would I carry such hope, such a burning, desperate need within me… for so many aching, desolate years… if I was never meant to be with you?…
Okay, so a lot of my friends/people are confused and ask me why my parents/ relatives sometimes call me Raiden or Ed or Edward or saejin (For those of you who are Korean should know that this is a guys name). Well here is your answer guys.
Before I was born, my parent’s had my older sister during their honey moon and officially claimed that she would be the only child they would have. A year later, seeing my sister and my mother grow a prosperous mother and daughter relationship, my father was beginning to feel jealous and lonely of being the only male in the family. He also wanted to keep the family’s bloodline name to keep on going for future generations, and the only way to do that was to produce a son. So my parents agreed to it and gave it a try.
When I was inside my mother’s womb, the doctors did a ultrasound test on my mother and confirmed that their were going to have a baby boy. My father was so happy at the time he decided to call up the whole family for a celebration. At that time, my parents decided that my name would officially be: Raiden(first) Saejin(Middle) Y. (Last) before birth, my parent’s would talk to my mother’s stomach, calling me Raiden or Saejin as if I was listening and learning what my name would be.
After my mother had given birth to me, it turned out that I was a female. My parents, especially my father, were so surprised and shocked… Their hopes of having a son was backfired. Despite the disappointing outcome, they happily accepted me as a loving daughter; and this time they had the high hopes of me becoming a happy,successful, rich woman. Which is part of the reason why I have my current name because they named me after an old lady who was rich and famous. o_0 yeahhhh… true story bro.
Oh about the Ed and Edward thing, my father wanted me to have the same name as him, he wanted to start one of those ‘past down name tradition’ thing. (Edward Jr. etc). Yeahhh.