Expect the Unexpected.

I just told the truth to somebody whom I thought it was necessary to do and I thought she would take it nicely, considering the fact that I knew her well enough to have made that judgement. However, it didn’t turned out quite that way. I ended up hurting her feelings and my sister blamed me for her suffering. However, after all this, I still don’t feel any bit of guilt after doing so. Why should I? She is the one who was wrong, and I simply tried to correct her by saying what was necessary. I, assuming she would take it lightly, went on straight on with my statement. It has been two days since it happened and her attitude towards me has changed considerably. My conscience keeps telling me to apologize to her, and logic tells me that I shouldn’t because if I do I would not apologize to her because I meant for it, and I would not be honest with myself. Therefore I’m stuck with this dilemma, should I apologize or not? But I don’t feel guilty thus I don’t see why I should do so.

sighs…

I have walked countless hours along a path which I am well aware of its nonexistence, yet in doing so it makes me feel real. I try to reason with my own conscience, debating on whether I should keep going further, disregarding any consequences that it might bring up later in life. I have no one to rely on, I simply follow my guts and feed my thoughts consistently with things I cannot control myself. These ‘things’ keep popping out of nowhere, something I cannot foresee. I hate myself for that. It may sound like nonsense, but to others I might simply be disturbed.  Following this path has lead me to think I can believe that anything could be done, but the thing is that it is hard for me to tell whether it is bad or good, nor the consequences so doing so. This is the part I lack for; the ability to tell whether the results of such acts performed could possibly affect my peers.

Why whenever I want to write on my blog I never seem to get my thoughts straight?

There are so many things going on inside my head that I would really like to write them all down here if I could but I simply can’t. There’s always this fear that I will write may seem boring, offensive to others or perhaps lack common sense. These things always apparently discourage me from being able to write. Actually, not always since as you may probably know by now, this is not my first post so yeah lol.

Is this an episode of what is known as writer’s block? maybe yes, maybe no. Or maybe I just wanted to write this post to keep my blog active. 

To sum it up, here is a potato:

I slammed the door right behind me and immediately ran to the park four blocks away, furious; I just had a disagreement with my mom of whether I should go to the supermarket to buy supplies or not.

It was cool outside, with a slight, gentle breeze that relieved me from stress. I stood right in front of the park entrance, thinking about the fight with my mom. I felt so embarrassed about myself, and of everything else; I felt like my head was going to burst out because of many thoughts and disagreements I had with mom, not just recent ones, but those that dated back a long time ago, when I was still a child. Everything seemed so cold, so sad, and I started to think again; I should go back home and tell my mom of how sorry I am.

Sometimes I feel that it is not fair that I’m being blamed for everything I do, even I’m blamed for what my little sisters do. But still, what I did was wrong; it was like turning off the traffic lights, pretending they don’t work when they actually do. I kept repeating myself of how would be life without feelings, feelings for everything: anger, sadness, pain, happiness, tolerance; those kinds of feelings. I said to myself, “maybe I’ll find the answer when I grow up”. After these words, I turned back and headed towards my home.

I’m tired of my life. 

I live in a nice, cozy home,
I have a grandmother who cooks for me,
I have two awesome parents who love me,
I have pretty much the stuff I’ve always wanted,
I have friends who (at least) like me,
I have a job, considering the fact that I’m still a university student.

Yet, after all this, I still feel this way.
I tried reasoning by taking a more logical stance as to how this is happening,
however, with no success. 

Am I being too selfish? perhaps a lot of you would think of it that way.
Others might also add that I should perhaps be lucky and thankful that I got a life to live and enjoy while others are struggling to even get something to eat.
Or maybe, although I haven’t really given a thought about, is that I keep asking for many things that I forget what’s really important in my life.

arghhhh….
someone slap my face real hard!

ps: this is how I generally express myself when I’m literally exhausted.