Hello, to the passionate-hearty-writer part of myself
So, this blog actually records well on how long since the last time I was really writing about myself.
Don’t get me wrong, I write for a living, thanks to the position of being the head of journalist department. But writing for my own good, pouring my head and heart out in a writing? This one here will be my restart button.
Life happens. That will be the answer if you ask where the hell have I been all this time. Life here as in the life consisted of lots of work and me trying hard to console myself over youknowwhat. No one maybe really read what I wrote here, since I don’t really publish this blog domain. But yes, youknowwhat means love life.
So this is what happen on my youknowwhat since the last time I wrote here:
As usual me trying to be the best cheerleader for my own fvcking sake, the facts that 2 of my department staffs at work tied the knot, countless friends got either engaged or married, friends (as always) posted their happy life with their spouses, and back to me crying over my own loneliness, one night of me pouring my heart out shamelessly (I might add) to my close friend about my fear, my insecurities, and one night when a friend of mine “slapped” me in the face telling me of how lame I am in terms of my youknowwhat, how selfish I am as a woman when it comes to loving a man, and how time still hasn’t heal me about my past (yesterday I dreamed about the last man on earth I ever want to meet, get in touch or let alone dream about. thankyouverymuch, universe)
Hell, that was hard. I still suffer and struggle, if you curious. People said that you have to be happy with your own self, before you want to have someone in your life. They said we can’t force other people to make us feel happy. Please pardon me, but I find this line is a bunch of bullshit.
I tried. It didn’t work. I tried to cheer myself. I do all I know that possibly can make me happy. But all of them just temporarily. Like when you listen to your favorite song in the radio on your way home from work and the traffic is bumper to bumper, then the song comes to an end and you have to get back to the fact that you’re jammed in the middle of traffic. You feel good when you sing along with your favorite singer. But then when the song ends and you face the fact that you’re actually stuck in your car, alone, that’s when the reality slaps back at you. The reality that in the end you’re still alone in this freaking traffic jam.
I did my hobbies, I did my work, I hung out with my best personal-laughing-machine friends. But in the end when I snapped out of all that, the loneliness grabbed me again. With full force, I might add.
You don’t know how I’m totally sick with all this. This feeling. This emptiness, this loneliness, this desire to be wanted by a man. This longing feeling of a man care enough for me to just even ask silly simple question of how’s my day. I hate this side of myself. I told you enough in previous blog posts, yes? I’m sick of just writing another draft in my laptop about the stories of a man and a woman while imagining the woman is me and the man is someone I wish I had in my life. All of them are unfinished, just so you know. I fail to engage myself even in terms of how I supposed to end every stories that I wrote. Because right now, I don’t know anything about that. All I know men were leaving me, in the end. This already feels like a template of how men treated me in my life so far.
I want to cure myself. I do. But please enough saying that the time will come, or saying that I have to be happy about myself. Or any of those bullshits trying to give me shots of resilience. I start to wonder whether you all already gave me too much of those shots till they only make me become one of those people in the movie Equals (2016) where they have no emotion. That is my biggest scare in my life right now.
I don’t want to be like Terminator, a robot with no feelings or emotions whatsoever. I want to feel again. I want to be treated as how a woman should’ve been treated, having a man respects her enough in her life.
I think there’s something wrong with my wish yes? I guess that’s always been too much to asked from a pathetic woman like me.
Dear whoever, I want you as quick as you can get here. Help me fix this emptiness because I’m a glass waiting to be filled. A glass can never fill itself, right?
“There’s strength in needing other people. Not weakness.”