you know you’re getting old when you walk into a library and head straight to the non-fiction section
It’s midnight, and for some reason my head is already spinning with a million things to say. It’s just one of those nights, I guess.
There will be a time and place to say all these things, I’m sure. I can’t help feeling that the time and place for some of them have already passed and gone.
I know I have been neglecting my personal writing/blogging for some time. I’ve been busy. Well, before June. Recently, I’ve just been lazy. It’s not like I feel obligated to always update, but it’s just that there are a lot of thoughts pent up in me and it might help if I got it out. I didn’t even realize these thoughts were here until now. And I just don’t really know where to start.
Well, it’s summer. My days are going as summer days go. Watching movies with my brother, running laps with my sister, stargazing with my mom and dad. These days I’ve been feeling so lucky; I am so blessed to have this family.
In other words, I’m doing well. G’night.
I used to have a lot of anger and stress growing up. I was immature, impatient, and sometimes selfish. But I first started getting into this “honest” style of writing when I felt trapped. I was alone when I was younger. No one really knew me nor did they care to get to know me. It’s tough having feelings when you can’t share them. That is what it’s like to be extrovert. I remember when I wrote my parents a letter out of anger. I think it was when they were fighting too much. I had no guts to give it to them by the time I finished it, so I decided to mail it to them. I addressed it to my mom and dad, and I kept it anonymous. It probably said something like, “Hey man you should probably be more considerate of your children when you’re screaming at each other in the kitchen” or something. Obviously not word for word. I was only 11.
They evidently knew that it was me. I didn’t put a stamp on it, but the from and to address was the same. But it did manage to make them laugh and it made me laugh when we read it a few days later when the feelings had disappeared.
Through that I started writing a lot more. From stupid poems when I was in grade school, to just raw thoughts and feelings when I was reaching adolescent. I learned that feelings are okay to have, but they are forever fleeting. You may be happy now– or sad– or maybe mad. But like a buzz of alcohol or a high, no feeling is really forever unless you’re psychotic. But that’s what living is. Living is to feel. And for me, it was through writing that I keep my feelings the way a person takes photographs of memories. My writings are my treasured feelings.
I started writing to myself. With stamps and everything. I’d mail myself sad letters, happy letters, angry letters, and sometimes love letters. I learned that the “hateful” letters didn’t matter to me when I read them again. And that was when I learn to not keep hate in my heart. Hate doesn’t matter. It doesn’t feel good to read about it again. It’s better left forgotten. It is a toxic to your personality. Of course today I still sometimes feel ill towards someone here and there when they’re being shitty. But I try my best to let it go. It’s really hard. But I’m trying. I know that it’s not healthy.
"To Han, from Alexander." The name just rung comfortably in my ears. Like Alexander the Great… It sounded safe. And that was how I got into writing and how I came up with the alias: Han Alexander.
Because it is a constant reminder that Alexander is there for me. I just gotta pick up my pen.
You need to love yourself first, man. I know it’s hard when you are infatuated. But infatuations put someone before yourself, and that is one of the most devastating poison I know. You got to remind yourself that you are far beyond what people tell you that you are. You are far beyond the thoughts of that person. You are far beyond the desire to touch that person. You are far beyond what you miss about that person. You have so much ahead of yourself, and the only thing that is stopping you from going far is another pathetic of another’s existence.
On the program, it said this was the 46th ceremony. We are the 46th class to graduate from this high school. This number, though not the biggest in the world, I’ll admit, is still enough to make one feel, well, insignificant.
It is a a day of celebration.
But the clouds still found a reason to cry. No matter how treacherous and demanding, tiresome and grueling the days had been, no matter all the rules and regulations, unending obligations, faces she didn’t want to see anymore - the clouds knew earlier than she that it all meant a little more than that.
Maybe even the prisoner sought for comfort in the cement walls, and he too grew attached to someplace he never wanted in the first place.
Because as she walked down the hallways that were nearly empty, she remembered each moment in each crevice she had stepped in. It’s a little weird how you can find a home almost anywhere, even in the most undesirable of places. Just a few years ago, it had been unfamiliar and strange - the walls were an unpleasant color, the ceiling was too low, and it smelled a little weird. She didn’t noticed those things anymore, yet she knew this place like the back of her hand.
The sky poured on her way home, and she read (or reread, in a way) stories of friendship in its simplest form. And she thought that it was worth it all.
Because now, she was ready to fly.
Haven’t updated in a while due to the lack of motivation to do anything tbh
Let’s bullet this shit b/c cannot write in complete sentences/paragraphs rn
- bombed all my APs cry cry tears drip
- I’m forcing myself to jump out of my comfort zone this week. I guess this will be good for me. (plz let it be good for me)
- supa excited for next (school) year. Idk if I should be. I hope I will not be met with crushing disappointment, but at the same time, I don’t think my expectations are high… just want some change - with that, don’t think I will be disappointed.
- sometimes I think about what I will be leaving behind and I get a little sad, though.
- everything’s changing and I hope it’s for the best
- but before all that, omg summer
- gonna get shit done this summer
- (that’s what I say every year)
- but really, really really
- I applied for this summer program months ago, but I didn’t get in.. so I took this as a sign - everything happens for a reason, yea? there must be something else in store for me this summer
- what else, what else. what else has been going on these days
- not much tbh
- just end school pls enddddd ittttttt
"My family is suffocating me with pressure to be a perfect student and daughter." (r.i.d)
people always ask me why i’m going into teaching instead of being a writer.
the number of notes on this in less than 24 hours and the number of people who said “same” or “exactly” or “about me” - that’s why. there is so much fundamentally wrong with our system. The only way to change it is from within.