Sunday, July 31, 2011
Discovery
We've finally reached our hands to the ends of our pockets. We're out and we just discovered that we invited bloodsuckers into our family, our home, our life.
So wierd,,,,,
it's like seeing an ex- going out with your close friend. How awkward... this feeling like I lost him even though I don't really want him to be mine. This feeling of bewilderment with a glint of relief. Like.. how did he ever get over me? Or.. was he even ever obsessed over me? Feels like everything was fake.. and now disturbing. But, the feeling that ends this thought is relief, so I am glad. I am relieved. I am glad that I am relieved. I am so relieved.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Freshman Infinity
Damn, I got treated today.
"I have a feeling you're going to get Freshman 20"
I really hate it when people underestimate me. Why can't I open that jar of pickles? Why can't I drink that cup of ketchup? Why can't I fly a plane? But I do have a very narcissistic part of me, a princess-disease. It is a part of me now, but it was me completely before. And this narcissistic part of me lives on despite all my failures and losses. And despite all my wounds, bruises, and scars, I still think I can win. I always think I can win.
Now, I am slightly afraid of this narcissism going out of control. Slightly afraid to validate this wild imagination of my strength in will and endurance. Afraid to look down upon my legs to confirm if they are still running.
"I have a feeling you're going to get Freshman 20"
I really hate it when people underestimate me. Why can't I open that jar of pickles? Why can't I drink that cup of ketchup? Why can't I fly a plane? But I do have a very narcissistic part of me, a princess-disease. It is a part of me now, but it was me completely before. And this narcissistic part of me lives on despite all my failures and losses. And despite all my wounds, bruises, and scars, I still think I can win. I always think I can win.
Now, I am slightly afraid of this narcissism going out of control. Slightly afraid to validate this wild imagination of my strength in will and endurance. Afraid to look down upon my legs to confirm if they are still running.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
In Sin's Den
Solomon prayed for wisdom, but I don't think I need any more wisdom. I don't mean that I am a genius, but I'm fine where I am at. I'm fine, losing my wallet every once in a while. I'm fine, getting over-charged at Joy Yee Plus. I'm fine, losing arguments and predictions. Instead, I pray for faith to endure. It's what I need the most. Because right now, every open crevice of my heart gets filled with hate.
Today, I saw the den of sin. It was beautiful. And it should be beautiful because it costed families. And for many moments, I envied the den, every square foot, inch, and centimeter. Everything about that den was beautiful, luxurious, and unimaginable. But I was also very afraid. Because sin is such a short-term pleasure. It is such an intense short-term pleasure, that I am afraid of its temptations. But besides the hate in my heart, the words I shouldn't say, I have greed. I want luxury in this short-term life. I want all those gorgeous things. So I desperately pray for strength. Right now, I don't even have enough faith in myself to make a solemn promise. My heart is much weaker now. I've become scum.
And I want people to be able to see God in me. I want a forgiving heart, a sincere mouth, a caring ear, observant eyes-- I want all those things that would make me the best servant I can be. After a full day of internet disconnection, I've had the time for more consideration. And now that I've calmed down, that beautiful house isn't that great. All their riches doesn't make them wealthy. And I should recommend no one to work for them as I should invite those to church instead. Do I bring my pagan friends in front of buckets of gold and tell them to give that up for something they can't see? I'm afraid that I'm not convincing enough. Satan is powerful with his spectacles and material goods, but Jesus is almighty. So give me strength, for I am still weak. Strength to not greed, not steal, not deceive, not hate, not covet, not plot evil.
Today, I saw the den of sin. It was beautiful. And it should be beautiful because it costed families. And for many moments, I envied the den, every square foot, inch, and centimeter. Everything about that den was beautiful, luxurious, and unimaginable. But I was also very afraid. Because sin is such a short-term pleasure. It is such an intense short-term pleasure, that I am afraid of its temptations. But besides the hate in my heart, the words I shouldn't say, I have greed. I want luxury in this short-term life. I want all those gorgeous things. So I desperately pray for strength. Right now, I don't even have enough faith in myself to make a solemn promise. My heart is much weaker now. I've become scum.
And I want people to be able to see God in me. I want a forgiving heart, a sincere mouth, a caring ear, observant eyes-- I want all those things that would make me the best servant I can be. After a full day of internet disconnection, I've had the time for more consideration. And now that I've calmed down, that beautiful house isn't that great. All their riches doesn't make them wealthy. And I should recommend no one to work for them as I should invite those to church instead. Do I bring my pagan friends in front of buckets of gold and tell them to give that up for something they can't see? I'm afraid that I'm not convincing enough. Satan is powerful with his spectacles and material goods, but Jesus is almighty. So give me strength, for I am still weak. Strength to not greed, not steal, not deceive, not hate, not covet, not plot evil.
Friday, June 17, 2011
If I am
I am really ashamed. I should get struck by lightning, land on a pile of poop and drown in it. And that would be a decent death. If everything I do is because of my family, and everything my family does is all because of me, then I should get stomped on by a stampede of elephants.
I feel really ashamed. It wasn't even something I did, yet I feel like crying. I feel regretful and sorry. I feel stupid and ugly. God, I wish these bad feelings away like they were a bad cold. I wish these bad feelings away like they were cancer, like they were a tumor, a cyst, a 6th toe. I wish I can say I had the right to wish these feelings away. I wish I could say, it wasn't my burden, my responsisbility, my family. It wasn't my family that stole from you yesterday, it wasn't my mom that said it was alright. It wasn't me, that walked away with yours, smiling and happy. It wasn't me. She'll forgive me, but I'll still feel like crap. He'll forgive me, but I'll still feel like crap. I'll forgive him, but I'll still feel like crap. I think I feel worse than crap. Because.. how bad can crap really feel? I mean.. it's turd, it's poop, it's excretion. If I were a piece of poop, I don't think I'd feel that bad.. I think poops are carefree and laidback, they just sit there, in the cold, in the sun, in the grass, in the street. I don't feel like crap. I feel terrible. I wish I felt like crap.
I feel really ashamed. It wasn't even something I did, yet I feel like crying. I feel regretful and sorry. I feel stupid and ugly. God, I wish these bad feelings away like they were a bad cold. I wish these bad feelings away like they were cancer, like they were a tumor, a cyst, a 6th toe. I wish I can say I had the right to wish these feelings away. I wish I could say, it wasn't my burden, my responsisbility, my family. It wasn't my family that stole from you yesterday, it wasn't my mom that said it was alright. It wasn't me, that walked away with yours, smiling and happy. It wasn't me. She'll forgive me, but I'll still feel like crap. He'll forgive me, but I'll still feel like crap. I'll forgive him, but I'll still feel like crap. I think I feel worse than crap. Because.. how bad can crap really feel? I mean.. it's turd, it's poop, it's excretion. If I were a piece of poop, I don't think I'd feel that bad.. I think poops are carefree and laidback, they just sit there, in the cold, in the sun, in the grass, in the street. I don't feel like crap. I feel terrible. I wish I felt like crap.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Esos
I don't know why my mom's voice annoys me so much. I hate it when she calls to tell me she's ready to begin her journey home. I hate it when she walks out to me at about 9 or 10 to tell me to go to sleep. I hate it when she yells from the kitchen to get more food when she doesn't have a clue or give a crap about how much I already have on my plate. I hate it when she lies to me about the garbage she puts in the soup. I hate it when she talks, when she wakes up, when she hogs the bathroom, when she tells me to eat some food, to loose some weight and announces to the entire family and her friends and co-workers of my stupid goal of being healthy and beautiful. Damn, I'm so ugly right now. What sins am I committing? Dishonoring my parents? letting the sun set on my anger night after night? harboring negative thoughts on others? I suppose it's all of the above.
God, I look around me and I see this mess and my reality's clutter is becoming a teratogen to my fetal brain. God, there's so many papers to read, documents to file, mail to open, food to throw, garbage to clean, clothes to find, shit to do. I should never swear with God, but this mess is eating me up. I think it's mostly an excuse for me to displace my concerns. And I'm becoming less nice, less forgiving, less considerate, less real. I'm becoming a terrible person. I want to move out. Ok, maybe moving out isn't the goal I'm reaching for, but it's the things that I assume would come with it, a clean slate. I'm sure there will be moments once my parents are gone and I'm all alone, I'll reminisce this condition, but what I really need right now is stability. I need more faith, I need something to look at as I'm walking. I feel like I'm drunk, staggering from point to point, half-assing at everything and barely getting by. I need stability, I need to feel in control.
God, I look around me and I see this mess and my reality's clutter is becoming a teratogen to my fetal brain. God, there's so many papers to read, documents to file, mail to open, food to throw, garbage to clean, clothes to find, shit to do. I should never swear with God, but this mess is eating me up. I think it's mostly an excuse for me to displace my concerns. And I'm becoming less nice, less forgiving, less considerate, less real. I'm becoming a terrible person. I want to move out. Ok, maybe moving out isn't the goal I'm reaching for, but it's the things that I assume would come with it, a clean slate. I'm sure there will be moments once my parents are gone and I'm all alone, I'll reminisce this condition, but what I really need right now is stability. I need more faith, I need something to look at as I'm walking. I feel like I'm drunk, staggering from point to point, half-assing at everything and barely getting by. I need stability, I need to feel in control.
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