mini rant.

feels like the salem witch trials here where every little thing I do gets scrutinise for the purposes of finding ways to burn me at stake. and of which, none of my actions are clarified with me but through whispers among people who don't want to talk to me.

i understand scepticism and i respect it in a professional manner. i know the need of it to ensure accuracy.

but when it is abused just to satisfy a person's need to prove that someone else is wrong, to prove that someone else has screwed up, to affirm your own belief that the other person will never ever be right in anything and everything he or she does...

to me, that's not professional. to me, that's not where I want to be in. i know i'm careless. i know i make mistakes. but to want to show that everything i'm doing is wrong is just...

makes me not want to try anymore. makes me not want to do anymore. makes me not want to be part of anything.


perhaps, that's what they wanted all along.

a little psa to my readers...

I still don't know who has this link and who still reads this. Chances are, you have this link because at one point of time, I trusted you and cared enough about you to allow you to see my inner thoughts and vulnerable self. Hopefully most of my readers are still in that category... If not, sorry.

But while others probably see that 5% of me on a day to day basis, having access to my blog is having the other 95% of the unadulterated part of me.

So my request is that if you do actually know me personally, don't circulate my url. Don't share my posts. You have been lucky/unlucky enough to see this side of me. But no one else knows as much as you do when you read all this. Until I'm ready to clean out the skeletons in my closet, please please please don't share all this.



In other news, I've come to terms with my dependence on alcohol. Sunday was especially bad for me so I did everything I could to distract myself. I watched stupid shows. I read. I worked out until I was completely aching. I had dark chocolate. Still, my thoughts were just on one thing. It was only until I had half a bottle of beer then I felt better. And it just hit me so hard that I am not able to function or I can't find a better distraction other than alcohol. While I don't drink that much, this dependence really isn't healthy.

Time to start coming to terms with this stupid struggle of mine and to stop reaching for the bottle just for relief. sigh. not going to be easy.



may this keep me a little more alcohol free during the weekdays.

To the big guy up there, You've seen me through all this time. You've seen my conduct and You know my breakdowns. You know the unspoken words and thoughts.

I can only hope that end of the day when I finally meet You, You will look at me and say:

"I know you never wanted anything more but to just do your work to the best of your ability. Career progression, being in the 'right' crowd, being popular, being liked for being part of the world were never things that you wanted."

"It wasn't easy to live the life you did and you weren't always perfect. But you tried. Because you knew that there was nothing you could do to be called mine. And everything you did was because I had already known you. So now you are here and you are still Mine because I made you Mine. "

May I keep this as my one prayer until the day I meet You. Thank you for always being so good to little worthless me.

i don't know why my brain is wired to torture myself.

that the smallest things get blown out of proportion.

that i drag people into the fray and implicate them or put them in awkward situations where they have to explain themselves.

that i can't sit still and suffer the consequences of my stupidity and uselessness alone.



that i can't silence the voices to tell me to hurt myself instead of hurting others.


sigh. frustrating.

How do you know that you are beyond hope?

When even your apology gets shared and mocked at with no reply to you.

Things would really be a lot better for everyone if I didn't exist. If my family didn't have to deal with my mental disorder. If my friends didn't have to put up with my bothersome whines and rants. If my therapist doesn't have to waste anymore time on me. If my colleagues didn't have to bother cleaning up all my fucking mess all the fucking time because I'm just an incompetent shithead.


Yea. Things would really be better if I weren't around at all. So tired of trying... So maybe it's time to stop trying.

Probably the moment of revelation everyone has been waiting for. Not too late to stop trying.

no need to try so hard to be part of something when no one wants you to be part of anything

so many times... so many times I find myself teetering on the edge and turning back to want to ask, "why do you hate me? why do you cut me out, second-guess me, doubt me, think so little of me?"

then I bite my tongue and stare straight ahead into the nothingness.

because my mind replies for you, "why shouldn't they hate me? I've screwed it up. I deserve nothing, not even grace."

teach me how to escape. teach me how to get away from all this and yet to also walk away from the edge.

so finally, someone spoke to me.

finally, someone had the guts to point out my character flaws and show me why I was excluded, avoided, ignored...

and it's never felt better.

to have someone tell me that I was lacking. to tell me that I'm complacent and incompetent and all in all, an out-of-control asshole. instead of the person I always thought I reflected: someone with strong work ethics. all that is just bullshit I used to lied to myself with.

I've always wondered why people treat me the way they do and to have someone tell it to my face has lifted one load off my shoulders and put another. one that I am willing to carry and determined to lessen on my own. the burden of being a scum and leaving people frustrated with me.

my only wish is that someone had been brutally honest with me from the start. but my obnoxious character had prevented all that. it's still my fault and now this is something I need to fix.

my mom was right from the start. I am my own enemy and the only reason why I'm on meds now. there's no excuse for my situation except for my own failings and shortcomings.

so many things I can do now. I can watch myself. start penciling more of these thoughts and ways to improve myself. start my therapy sessions and monitor the mood swings and drowsy state that the meds put me through.

It's 2016 and I'm determined to recover and find a better me through God's grace. let's go.

I want to cry and want to not cry at the same time. Damn you, Prozac.

can't wait for 21/12. time to figure out what's really wrong with me and try to remember that girl on fire.

i wish there was a clear warning a few hours before an attack happens.


or i'm going to lose my mind pretty soon.

all these little fucking mistakes that piss me off and piss everyone off..

inadequate. useless. what am i even doing besides making life hard for others.


seriously better off gone. less problems.