ACS 16-8-18: l 0 n e l I n e s s

I suppose it's just my loneliness dictating my actions. After all, when it all boils down, the whole reason why I blog is for self expression, isn't it? As I'm slowly becoming more and more aware, I am facing a huge loneliness problem. It's the strangest feeling in the world, dear blog. Strange that I am surrounded by friends and family that say without hesitation that they love me and that they'll be there for me whatever happens, that unflinchingly say they understand me the best, and yet... I feel so alone. I am not alone but I feel so alone. Paradoxical, I know. Almost like girls who wear XS garments thinking they're fat... ahah. Whoops.

As I've mentioned the umpteenth time by now, I super enjoy talking to my psychotherapist, -. I think it took a combination of having been friends with Cypy, watching her change, cutting her from my life, and then having - to talk to that I see more clearly what it is I feel lacking in my life.

I just... want to talk.

Perhaps it's my hateful perfectionism acting up again, but I feel as if no one around me really offers the catharsis, the solace of a listening ear, the open mindedness, and that... intangible yet wholly palpable feeling of emotional investment I get from talking to a psychotherapist. From an uneducated ape's standpoint like mine, it's magical how - hits all the right buttons in me, without me even realising it. It's like... all I can say is... that she knows when to shut up and listen, and she knows when to speak, and what to say, all while being to... genuine, you know? Her spontaneous laughter, her giggles, her soft kind words, they all stick to me in my memory.

It's difficult, I know, to find someone whom can emotionally massage you as well as a trained psychotherapist. And maybe I'm just being narrow minded, because my friends aren't nearly as awful as my family when it comes to how they make me feel when I share my woes with them. I suppose there's also an associated guilt with talking to them, because we're all grown ass adults now, each of us ought to have our own problems, our own doubts, and our own adult responsibilities to tend to. YS is a workaholic as usual - he works himself to the bone at the detriment of his health even without me bugging him, and even the carefree JJ is becoming like that in spite of how it's not in his personality to be a workaholic. TKJ... well... he's not good with this kind of "soft" topics, I think. He's struggling with his own depression, he has severe family issues at home, and I've never seen him show his vulnerable side, being the proud man that he is, even when he lost his father. I don't really have a good word for it, but I feel he's way too "hard" for me to really talk to him.

Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike any of them, nor am I saying that I don't enjoy my time with them. What I'm saying is that... I feel perhaps, that I always feel guilty taking up the time of others to talk, and that I don't really have anyone I can be vulnerable with. That I don't have anyone to share my deepest thoughts, my most intense feelings, my most nauseating insecurities, and my everyday struggles with. Either I'll feel guilty for imposing on my friends, or I'll get cut off and have voices raised at me, or people won't even be interested at all to begin with. Or any of the mix of the above.

I wonder if I'm going insane, or if I'm just too perceptive for my own good. Maybe it's just a sign of the times, a sign of what we as a society has become, has deemed to be the most beneficial and conducive to life as a whole. Maybe historians hundreds, if not thousands of years later may chance upon this and be like "welp, he called it". I get whack ass fantasies like that in my head sometimes, haha. But, at this point, it almost feels like I need to pay a pretty, kindhearted lady to listen to me for an hour to really feel like I got something off my chest, like I've any hope of emotionally connecting with someone, never mind that I really shouldn't be staking all my hopes and expectations on a married, hired for help woman. It's just what it seems to have come to, for me. I feel like I'm lonely and desperate enough to be that type of 50 year old rich single uncles who can afford to sugar daddy girls going through college. Except I'm 24 and I don't even know if I'll have enough money in the bank for my next meal transaction.

It's... sad. I feel a rather dark cloud hovering over me and I don't know what I can do but to suck it up and accept it. I tried searching for "personal blogs", "personal writing", "depression stories", etc., on Google not too long ago, and all I can seem to find are templates, articles on the pros and cons, tips and tricks on how to make money off blogs, and everything in between, but actual personal writing like what I'm doing. I start to find that, even on Facebook, my friends have, before I realised it, stopped expressing themselves in their own words entirely. Nowadays it's all selfies, wefies, food, travel photos, or "share this for a chance to win xxx" types of posts. Nothing about how their days were, nothing about what their lives are becoming, nothing about their tastes, personal preferences, hobbies... and, well, I don't really blame them. Maybe our lives really are that boring. Maybe people don't expect as much as I do from life, nor do they ask so many philosophical questions that don't have a clear cut, simple, definitive answer like we're taught we need to answer every question in school. Maybe self expression in this day and age is just career suicide, with how easily searchable everything and everyone is.

Almost makes me miss the days when people would berate my behaviour with "everyone needs friends to survive!", and "no one man is an island!"

It's why I write, I guess. I mean, aside from this whole "maybe I'm onto something and my text will prove useful to someone somewhere" fantasy. I hope I can find others like me who share, so I'll feel less alone. Maybe because I've no one to really talk to.

I know I'm not alone, but I feel so alone. And, you know, maybe it's not entirely fair to just point fingers and lay the blame on something so vague like society. I know if I said that I'm lonely, someone please talk to me, on Facebook, I know I'll get a few responses. I know some people will put in the effort. But, in the same vein, I also know that I'll just clam up and give short, simple, curt, conversation ending answers. I'll never be able to expose myself to them like I do here. Part of it is because I "know" I'm a very long winded person who can't express himself without a thousand words in writing, and "ain't nobody got time for dat". I know the things I'm interested in, the things I care about, my opinions and my viewpoints are of the unpopular minority, and not everybody in this strawberry generation knows how to handle that. And so over time, it's been a lifelong lesson that I just shut the fuck up, because why bother, right?

It's... also because of the whole debacle with codad that I've yet to be able to make any friends on my own. It's the main reason why I strongly suspect I've PTSD from it, and it's something I've already told - I want to work on together with her.

I wonder if there's a cure for loneliness, or, if like eczema, I'm just going to have to live with it for the rest of my life.

ACS 10-5-16: Dodging Adulthood

LiSA - Rain Song
Lyrics and Arrangement by Maeda Jun

いつだって泣かせては君を困らせてた
そんな君も大きくなり遠くへ行くって話
聞いてない! 唐突の雨だ
傘もなく立ち尽くす

I've always caused you trouble and made you cry

I heard that you, too, is growing up and going far away

I didn't hear that! In the sudden rain,

I stand still without even an umbrella

いつでもふたりで居るって言ってくれたよね たしか
覚えてたのはあたしひとりだったのかな
君と見た星忘れて 君と見た夢忘れて
別々の道を進むなんてイヤだ

I remember you saying that we'd be together forever

Perhaps I'm the only one who remembers it

Forgetting the stars and dreams that I've seen with you

Somehow, I don't want to go our separate ways

もしかして誕生日のプレゼントのことかな
似合わない そう言って笑うから失くした
見つけ出す! あれはどこだ?
雨は勢いを増す

Is it perhaps the incident regarding the birthday present?

"It doesn't suit me", I said, laughed, and then lost it

I'll find it! Eh, where is it?

The rain continues to grow heavier

どうして君だったんだろ イジワルしてばっかだった
思い出せるのは情けない顔ばっかり
君と見た映画忘れて 君の匂いも忘れて
別の誰かと生きるなんてイヤだ

Why did it have to be you, the you that I bullied so much?

When I think about you, all that comes to mind is your pitiful looking face

Forgetting the movies I saw with you, forgetting too your smell

Somehow, I don't want to live life with someone else not you

初めて会った日を思い出す
公園の木に隠れてた君
それをつついて追い出してみた
大雨が降ってたのに

Remembering the day I met you for the first time

The you that was taking shelter under the tree in the park

I tried poking you and chasing you out

Despite the heavy rain that was falling then

時は過ぎ 今はあたしが
雨の中 泣いている

Time passes, and now I'm

Crying in the rain

あんなに好きだったのに本当に好きだったのに
君以外の人はどうでもよかったのに
どうしてその君だけがいなくなっちゃうんだろう
頭がおかしくなりそうだ もう
雨は強く打ちつける 体の芯まで冷える
公園の木にぶつかり 君のように泣いた
君がいたこと忘れて 君とした恋も忘れて
君の代わりに泣くのはもうイヤだ…

Even though I loved you so much, even though I really loved you

Even though anyone else could do

Why is the you I loved so much the only one who's going to be gone?

I think I'm going crazy over it

The heavy rain beats against me, and my body is freezing to the core

Hitting the tree in the park, I cried just like you

Forgetting that you were here, forgetting the love that we had

I don't want to cry in your stead anymore...

--------------------------------------------------------------------

(English translation by me with a lot of help from Google Translate, take it with a pinch of salt)

Oh, Maeda Jun, you. He's pretty much the "feels factory" as far as I'm concerned, not just in terms of anime, but in everything. I had a conversation once with an ex colleague, and we both came to the conclusion that, instead of those CAPTCHAs to prove that you're human, you could just show them the whole Clannad run, and if they don't cry, they're not human.

Anyway, this song is a song by the fictional band in Angel Beats!, and even though it doesn't make an appearance in the actual show, I love this song a hell of a lot, even if LiSA doesn't really capture the emotions of this song, and wasn't that good a singer in her early singing days.

I know the lyrics might seem weird to some English speaking folk out there, but I like to as directly translate Japanese as possible, which means the English end result tends to look wonky. But I love the lyrics to this song because it really speaks very strongly about the character of the singer, very strongly about the very special kind of relationship they had, and most importantly, a very strong sense of regret. I think it challenges the concept of love that most people would conjure up in their head when talking about love, as I think the singer has a very weird, yet very strong appreciation for the person that they're missing. But of course, it's not difficult to see why the loved party would leave someone like that, as well, be it intentionally or otherwise. In fact, it's pretty much expected, the way things had been going. And that's where the big shock comes in for the singer of this song, because everything was going so well, everything was going so happily that it makes it ten times more difficult to come to terms with the fact that the person they loved is not going to be with them for much longer. But at the same time, the fact that the person the singer loved so much stuck with them for so long, through all that apparent bullying, made the person the singer loved all that more special, because they stuck with the singer through presumably years, long enough to do some "normal" things like watching movies together and just stargazing, through all that... that undoubtedly makes this bullied person all the more special to the singer, because they stuck with the singer through all that, when the average person would've walked away at first sight of the singer.

So, why do I bring this up? I bring this song up because, right now, I feel, moreso than ever before, I could relate very strongly to this song.

I think that I, just like a kid that doesn't want to admit that he was in the wrong, doesn't want to admit that he has yet to grow up like everyone else around him has.

For the longest time, I've always blamed others when things don't go the way I want them to, especially when it comes to love and relationships. I think things like, "they're all insensitive bitches!", "they don't know how to appreciate me!", "All women want in a man are just looks and money, not love!", and, most recently, "They're so immature!"

It's only after having gone out for dinner with - and - again that I've had someone else point out my flaws to me, like how I don't ever dress up for anything, how I don't want higher education after this, and, well, basically being a good for nothing.

I've this bad habit of just angrily rejecting criticism as my knee jerk reaction to them, and as a result I just thought, "what a materialistic bitch, wanting this and that from me" at the time. And if it were anybody else saying those things to me, that'd have been the end of that. But because it came from someone I was in love with before, it actually stung, and continued stinging long enough for me to put down my walls for a second and examine what she said in more detail, in hopes that I can ease the pain a little.

And once I thought about it, I feel kinda stupid. I mean, of course women want guys to look good. Hell, I'm the most superficial asshole I know, who am I to blame others for being superficial themselves? And, of course, women want a husband that can bring them a sense of security, and what better way to do that than to have good qualifications and a stable, high paying job?

By saying that I don't see the point in dressing up, or getting higher education, I suppose that in effect says that I don't want to compete in the "market" of getting a girlfriend. Doesn't that mean that I haven't a right to complain that no one wants me, no one can see my good qualities, and not being able to appreciate me?

I think I know what it means to grow up. It's just that, I don't necessarily want to. I know it sounds like an incredibly bratty thing to say, and it probably sounds a hell of a lot worse when I combine that with bitching about how nobody wants me. But the reason why I say I don't want to grow up is because I think I've seen and know what it takes to be a "successful" adult, and it not only scares me, it's heavily repulsive and goes against almost every moral code in me. To be a two, maybe even three or four faced person, to be a useless fuck at your core, knowing only to talk big with no regard to those under you, to know how to lie and bluff your way out of situations with your superiors, to know how to make it look like you're doing a good job when the only effort and pride you put into your job is to cover up the trails of your own laziness, to value your promotions and progress on the corporate ladder more than anything else, and to pretend that you're a half decent human being on top of all that.

If that's what it means to grow up, be successful, and appease women, fuck it; I'd rather die alone.

Of course, I might have that kind of perception of the adult working world because of what I see in the organisation I currently slave away for. MAYBE the real, outside world isn't really as fucked up as what I'm seeing now, but if everyone who cares for me is to be believed, then the outside world is just like that as well. (Spoiler alert: it's just as bad - Me from 2018)

Why the hell would I want to pay an exorbitant amount of money to go into a school to prepare me to be "successful" in such a fucked up environment? Why would I want to pay an exorbitant amount of money to go into a fucked up environment to further waste four years of my life, achieving absolutely nothing in the process, to get myself fucked up enough so that I can excel in the bona fide fucked up environment to pay off the student loan that I'll inevitably have to take to get into the fucked up environment that is school to begin with?

Sorry, it makes no sense to me.

I'm the type of person that most enjoys being creative, doing things my myself, and being able to see the fruits of my labour. And if that means getting a low wage job that gets oil on my hands, then so be it. If it means I'm not pretty then so be it.

I chided - for not having "grown up" enough, and that she's still a child, hence why I could never see her as girlfriend material until she "grows up".

But what does it mean to "grow up"?

I think growing up just means conforming to what society wants of you, to be honest. I mean, you essentially change your mindset and way of doing things to coexist with others, and make a living amongst other people. Those that aren't subject to this, like teen pop stars, end up as "spoiled brats", and we chide them for being kids and spoiled brats.

Of course, conforming to what the society wants of you means that, depending on where you do your "growing up", what you "grow up" into is different. Being aggressive and getting what you want mercilessly for example, could work in America, but in Japan that'd just be too blunt and rude, even if human beings are just ugly pieces of shit in their cores no matter where you go. I know that this is a very vague example, but I don't exactly have the globe trotting experiences to really flush this out with a compelling argument, so bear with me here.

That being said, how does that principle apply to being "grown up" when it comes to relationships? What mindset are we talking about when we say that someone has a really "mature" way of thinking when it comes to relationships? Who are the proverbial "pop stars" of relationships, and do they need to "grow up"?

I think you can already see where this is going. Point is, expecting someone to "grow up" and "be more mature" is just a high and mighty way of saying, "be more like me, damnit". And I think that's cruel. Everybody should have a right to be who they are and who they want to be. If you truly loved a person for who they are, why would you want them to change?


Wishing for someone to be more mature in their way of thinking when it comes to relationship is unfair, I think, because everybody's different life experiences and environments mould them into becoming different and unique people. It's like wishing that pop stars wouldn't be so... silly. they're never gonna change because being an asshole is what has worked out for them in life; askingthem to suddenly change and not do these stupid things just wouldn't make much logical sense. The people who like -, for example, but wish he'd change, or lie to themselves that he isn't so horrible, doesn't love him; they love the image of him they've built in their heads.

Similarly, if being materialistic and going for looks is what has worked for -, if seeking playboys, the "bad guys" give her the most happiness, security, or whatever it may be that she gets out of those relationships, then, well, who am I to tell her how to be happy?

*sigh* I know I just said it was an incredibly cruel thing to say, but I wish she'd grow up more, too.

Kiwami

Finger Eleven - Slow Chemical

The wonder of the world is gone
I know for sure
All the wonder that I want
I've found in her
As the whole becomes a part
I strike to burn
And no flame returns

Every intuition fails to find its way
One more table turned around and back again
Finding I'm more lost than found
When she's not around
When she's not around
I feel it coming down

Give me what I could never ask for
Connect me and you could be my chemical now
Give me the drug you know I'm after
Connect me and you could be my chemical

When everybody wants you
(The chemical comes slow)
When everybody wants you
(The chemical comes slow)
And everybody wants you
(Slow)
And everybody wants you

So give me what I could never ask for
Connect me and you could be the chemical, now
Give me the drug you know I'm after
Connect me and you could be the chemical

You could be the chemical

***************************************

Okay, so here's my customary ramble tangent to ward off people with short attention spans before I open a very bitter can of worms: Today is August 28th, 2018. It's the second anniversary of my release from slavery, but more crucially, it's the Western release date of Yakuza Kiwami 2, which features the return of the heartthrob couple from Yakuza 0: Majima Goro and Makimura Makoto! With how downright awfully the main protagonist Kiryu Kazuma's storyline and character has aged, I'm actually buying this game only for the newer, cinematically breathtaking and thought provoking story written for Majima and Makimura. How do I know it's gonna be that good? Blind faith from having experienced what I consider to be a modern masterpiece, Yakuza 0. Also because new content in Yakuza Kiwami 1 pertaining to Nishiki was just so gasp drawingly tragic and beautiful... I honestly believe that if you at all consider yourself a fan of games, Japanese culture, or just storytelling in general, you'd be doing yourself a serious disservice if you don't at least watch a playthrough of Yakuza 0.

Disclaimer: the fact that 0 features an extensive list of real life Japanese porn stars, some of whom are my firm favourites, and some of whom I became a fan of after seeing them in 0, is in no way related to my bias towards Yakuza 0. (But seriously Uehara Ai is so ridiculously good at everything she does, between voice acting and AV stuff, I'm surprised Japan didn't declare a national holiday to grieve her retirement. Oh and Ootsuki Hibiki might be a woman I love more to sit and talk to than watching her getting ploughed I mean not that she's BAD at ploughing or being ploughed but she's such a lovable personality even outside of a studio you know? She's one of those women that could be and do anything in life and be loved for it, but somehow chose to be an AV star. Also how the FUCK is Tsubomi not in any game yet?!)

So anyway, in my anxious haste to get and play the game, I've arrived way too early at a shopping mall to buy the game, and now I'm forced to sit on my ass and pass time somehow, and with mobile games being as toxic as they are I... have nothing else to do but write.

That song, Slow Chemical, came on shuffle play on my long ass walk to Waterway Point. It's a song I suddenly fell in love with all over again as a grown ass adult who thinks he's seen his fair share of shit, because it suddenly becomes all so relatable. As a kid watching wrestling, I've always liked this song on a surface level, but it's only now that the song really seems to have opened its doors to me and shown me what it truly is.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I tend to associate most tracks in my playlist with certain things or certain people. Moreso than the wrestler Kane, as big a fan of his as I am, this song reminds me most about Cypy, because I vividly remember the lyrics of this song running through my head around this time last year, when my anxiety and depression were at their worst. I felt super needy, super dependent on her company and making me feel better, because at the time she really did feel like the last viable source of happiness, and in turn, hope, to me. When going to meet her I felt unparalleled energy, zest and vigor about life, and just the thought of her could motivate me to push through physical and mental pain at work. She... meant a lot to me, as I hope should be abundantly clear by now.

With everything in my life falling apart, and me feeling like I never had any control over it, I always knew on some levels I was going insane, that something was terribly, terribly wrong with my psyche, mental state and thought patterns. Yet it was nigh impossible to find proof to challenge those thought patterns and beliefs, which really set those thoughts and beliefs into stone. I started to get thoughts on how I seem to be the only one thinking rationally, and the world is going insane, and along with it, Cypy. But that's signature crazy talk, isn't it? After all, what IS insanity? Is it just things that don't make sense to you, an individual, subjective human being? Or is insanity defined by being the odd one out in the whole world that determines what normal is?

In that state of desperate puzzlement, I had to resort to a lot of coping habits that made as little sense as the world itself, that the world provides me, such as drugs and alcohol. After all, how the hell are drugs to magically make my problems, thoughts, beliefs and trauma go away, like everybody makes them out to be, from friends to psychiatrists? Why would people willingly spend ludicrous amounts of money to intoxicate themselves, to lose control of their own body and mind, to reek and potentially harm themselves and others as a rite of passage in negotiating business deals? Yet the world churns on with drugs and alcohol inextricably interwoven into its structure, and, to the 22 year old me at my first job, that's just what becoming a responsible adult that can put food on the table meant: going along with the insanity. Never mind that there was a very strong and persistent voice in my head that kept protesting that this can't be right; that voice sounded like that of a naïve child to me, unwilling to toughen up and grow up to be a "real man" and "suck it up", as slavery so loves to resort to saying. Yep, I'm gonna blame the mandatory slavery experience for imparting toxic, impractical thinking habits and beliefs and you can suck one. Your thumb, that is. After all, 2 years is a hell of a long time, and not just any two years of my life, either. It was my first real taste of society fresh out of school, and being imprisoned by a culture for two years... I don't care who you are, it's gonna rub off on you to some extent.

So, in that state where hope, happiness and coping in a bleak and desolate world meant blotting out large chunks of it you don't like with drugs and alcohol, that's just how I pigeon holed romantic love as well.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again because it bears repeating: helplessly, knowingly watching yourself go insane is one of the scariest things you can experience in life. There will always be too many causes to pinpoint, there's no evidence to support you, and every evidence against you, and so at every turn all your values and beliefs feel vengefully invalidated and ridiculed at every turn of life. I was afraid of myself, afraid of the world, and afraid of what I might find in both should I look deep and long enough into either. And so, even though it wasn't what I wanted out of a woman, out of a relationship, out of myself, even, treating the woman I loved as a supply, a paid commodity, akin to that of drugs and alcohol, to blot out and erase all the darkness and unhappiness of my life, is what I wound up unknowingly doing. At my worst, I even forced myself onto her, hugging her from behind even though she really didn't want to be hugged. In hindsight, I still don't know what the hell came over me at the time. Everything is just a blur of things I don't want to remember, of emotions I don't want to experience again. I know it's no justification for what I've done, and me saying that isn't meant to be any justification. I'm saying all this in attempt to own my mistakes and flaws, so that I may make peace with my past.

Of course, the difference between drugs and alcohol and a real life woman is that a real life woman, even the most materialistic ones, can reject you. They have their own lives, their own struggles, their own needs and their own preferences. Cypy was struggling immensely with her final year of university at that point in time, with the workload and stress driving her to never before seen levels of irritability, and her outbursts thus became more common and more hurtful. It was just an awful, awful time for us both, and I suppose both of our suffering was so immense it left us no capacity to see, or at least care, about the needs of others.

I knew it too at the time. That her snappy, angry remarks and condescending attitude was only temporary. I told myself that her recklessly throwing herself whole into her job, her task, and even in love was something I loved about her. Yet at the same time, no wise words have ever stopped a bleeding, has it? I needed happiness, I needed hope. I needed someone to be there for me, to talk to me, to reassure me that I'm wanted and loved, that I matter. That I'm not insane, and worth saving. So, yes, occasionally I'd ask for dinners together, and talks at her void deck in the dead of night. But honestly I think even just the ability to tell her "good morning", and get a simple response each time would've been enough. But everything was so strained between us that even that became difficult; so much so that I'd physically shake with my phone barely in my hands at the mere thought of texting her, in spite of how badly I needed my drug that is her. The angrier she got at me, the more worried/ angrier I got towards her as well. The longer we went without meeting each other, the more it felt to me like she owed that debt of friendship to me. From there it just slowly degraded into classic, toxic relationship signs, such as passive aggression, withholding emotions and communication, counting and storing upsetting events as future ammo, gossip, badmouthing, etc..

Of course, I can't definitively tell you what the heck went on in her head at the time, given how little we talked, so I can only give you my side of the coin. I started to hold grudges and do "petty statistics", like checking when the hell was the last time she ever initiated a conversation with me, without her explicitly telling me, "buy this for me for my birthday". Then I did a cold shoulder experiment where I went a few months without texting her, to see if she would notice anything wrong with me, as I know she's so uncannily adept at doing even through text. Then I got angry every time I unlocked my phone and saw no new messages, especially when I needed her the most in reslavery, where I was physically falling apart and mentally about to explode, and used my phone for some fifteen minutes a day. Not even a "hey, what's up"? Not even a "are you okay"? For all I did for you, all the time and money I put into you, for how emotionally invested I am into you, this is what I get in return? I was nothing short of livid. Again, I knew it even back then. I was watching myself go insane through a silver screen, powerless to do anything to alter the hateful plot. It felt like the only thing to do, it felt so right and so justified, even if I knew it was unhealthy and, quite frankly, stupid.

I said I loved how hard she works for what she wants, be it at a job, or in a relationship. When she was in Uni I could "suck it up", telling myself it was "only two years". But by that time she had already started work, and showed no sign of changing. All alone, I felt so thrown away, so useless, so played, so taken advantage of, and so stupid for investing so much into a woman who would never see me as anything more than a friend, if even that. I honestly felt so indebted to her and her friendship towards me that I could spend the rest of however long I've left on this earth taking care of her, and never be able to repay her for all that she's done for me in the ten years we've known each other. I feel the most natural and relaxed around her, and we share such a deep familiarity and sense of security with each other we can talk about crude and embarrassing topics, from porn, to periods, bra sizes, masturbation, awful bosses, eccentric family members... anything. I don't at all hesitate to say that she has had a huge hand in helping me become an adult, being the business student that she was, teaching me how to write resumes, finding part time jobs together, picking out clothes for me, at times telling me how the world works, what I want out of a woman, out of a relationship... Goddamnit she meant the world to me. But, what my cold shoulder experiment proved to me was that, for as much as she meant to me, I never meant a fraction of that to her. While I was struggling with anxiety, depression, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, binge drinking... every moment felt like it could've been my last. And what cut the most deeply was the thought that this, all this, my entire fucking life, meant less to her than some superficial piece of paper crap that is a degree. And it's not like she can't emphatise, either; last I heard she still struggles with anxiety herself and takes meds for them, so don't give me that bullshit of "you can't expect everybody to know what it's like". She knows it full well and consciously chose to blow me off.

She... changed. Even if I know it was unhealthy and stupid, even to this day I think I learned something invaluable from my cold shoulder charade. With a clear(er) head now, I can tell you, or anyone else for that matter, that I don't regret my decision to henceforth cut her off from my life entirely. I learnt to prioritise my own happiness, my own needs, my own sanity, above that of anyone else's, even that of someone I could at one point in my life swore till death does us part. I mean, how hypocritical would it be of me, to try to force my own brand, my own idea of happiness, down the throats of someone else, when I myself am not happy? What do I know of what happiness is or should be? Who am I to decide for others what happiness is to each individual? I'm still learning to not blame myself for how sourly things ended, in spite of all the voices in my head screaming at me how I may never find a woman as special as her in my life again, given my looks and personality. The voices in my head that scorns me for not being able to make her happy because of my nonexistent financial means.

I don't regret cutting her from my life because, akin to trying to hold a crumbling sandcastle together with bare hands, I was trying to hold together something that was just never going to work, and perhaps she, business student and all, was just too "polite" to not want to say it to me straight. It was only after cutting her from my life, not having to deal with her bullshit, her abuse, and my own expectations of her, that I started to have some semblance of foundation for inner peace. A relationship is always a two-way street; common sense should tell anyone as much. I never felt the same reciprocation from her in spite how how increasingly desperate I had been becoming, and in turn, how increasingly harder I tried. If common sense should tell anyone that any relationship is a two-way street, that same common sense should also tell anyone that love is built with acceptance, understanding, sacrifice, and hard work. I took that to the extremes, and started to go into the region of having to make excuses for her in my head to hold that sandcastle together. I started to go into the region of driving myself up the damn wall with insanity in the name of ideals and love. And the moment it felt like I could've died for someone who wouldn't give my corpse a second glance, that was when everything snapped together and made sense to me, and what I had to do became clear to me.

What even was the point of me trying so hard anymore? Evidently you can live happily without me. If I have to legitimately feel like taking my own life to guilt trip you into meeting me for a meal, what even is the point anymore? If I rank below JK on your friends list, if I have to go through JK first to be next in line for a meal with you then you evidently don't need me very much at all, do you? You're right. I'm a fucking idiot. For trying so hard. For thinking it could work. For thinking that I could see you as just a friend. For thinking that your change was only temporary. For thinking that I could "wake up your idea". For thinking that I knew the "real you" wasn't like this. I am a fucking idiot. And you're right: I do deserve better. I do deserve to feel better. I do deserve better than you.

It might sound like I'm extremely angry towards her, and I am; make no mistake about it. Yet at the same time, because I'm an emotional wussy, I still carry the weight of the guilt and blame for the whole shebang, and I think of her at least once every day. Yeah, I feel that she's changed immensely in the ten years I've known her. Sure, she could've been a hell of a lot nicer towards me. But over the last year or so, I'm slowly learning how to better myself, and in doing so, I think I've come to pinpoint what went wrong. As I've said, relationships are always a two-way street. As such, there's almost never an instance where one party is the absolute angel and the other is an asshole on whom all blame can be pinned. That's... just my really roundabout way of saying... I done fucked up as well. I was the one who laid all these asinine expectations onto her. I already have a problem of holding people to too high a standard in any setting, so could you imagine how god-awful being my wife must be? Here I am, staking an entire lifetime worth of happiness on her and heaping all my visions and expectations of my ideal wife onto an innocent woman who evidently didn't feel much for me in the end. And, yeah, I could've been more civil and communicative about wanting to end the friendship we had, but...

pshhhh, you know?

Whys it matter? She evidently is happy without me. And, as I found out when the song came on shuffle play during that walk, I am evidently a better person, with some budding inner peace within me, without her. The screaming in the song... I used to scream alongside the song in my head, but now I'm happy to say that... the screaming, has stopped.

I may not yet know what it means to be happy in life, to be happy with life, but it sure felt like I headed in the right direction with amputating her from my life. And so, with that being the case, whys it matter if what I did was right or wrong? This world is subjective and insane. It changes, so fast. Too fast. It took a woman I loved and changed her into a monster. Whys it matter if what I did was right or wrong, to one or two persons, at one point in time? It's not like I'm trying to write a romance novel. Long as you're happy, long as I'm happy, who cares about right and wrong anymore?

That's just my roundabout, polite way of saying, I'm gone. I'm done. Forever. I've given up. I'm broken, and it may be a long, long time before I can mend myself, and find it in me to try again for someone else.

If, by some miracle you're reading this, Cypy, I just want to say, I hope you're happy with your life choices, and I'm sorry for being an idiot for so long.

The above post was brought to you by Yakuza Kiwami 2. Some 35 hours into the game later and I've finally completed both sagas, and Majima's saga, while disgustingly short, left such a deep, deep impression on me, it physically hurts me to the point of losing sleep. There's such a bitter gash in me... it's so rare to be so moved by a work of fiction I... can't really believe it, still. Something about it really resonated with me, like it came from such a dark yet beautiful place in someone's soul I just... can't cope with it. And so here I am, writing to get it off my chest.

A Failure In Death

But you haven't taught me how to talk
I don't want to hesitate any longer
To take charge of my life
Do something for myself
It's not something we were taught to do
But no one tells us how to be happy either
I'm not going to listen anymore
I feel trapped between everything I'm told I should be
I don't want to live as though I'm dead anymore
Perhaps it's not me you're looking for
So save your "I love you"s for yourself

I won't do anything rash and stupid
Only the most calculated move through the problem of life
I don't want to feel warmth anymore
Twice a month I'll get to bleed bad blood for an hour
But what will I do without my serrogate friend?
I don't want to be warmed into second guessing anymore
The only hope and friends are all professionals
I don't want to listen anymore

How alone, how alone
Can one feel in a sea of people?
So squeezed tight, I've nowhere to hide, no way to breathe
Surely even now I am being watched
But who can help me get what I want?
The brave ones who succeeded are all gone
And I am left all alone
Yearning to be one of them

Reaching out at this hour only brands me a criminal
They'll only spare no effort to keep me alive
But then only say there's hope without lifting a finger
They know, I know
This world is fucked up
If only, if only
I wasn't so scared
Why are we wired this way
To instinctually fear when we want with all our heart?
I am a fucking coward
Who can only ask for so much before being locked away

Is it you? Is it me?
Is it so wrong to be weak?
Why is the world fortified with so many parapets?
Is it them? Is it me?
Am I insane, or am I the only sane one?
Is it you, is it me
Is it me

Who doesn't care why it's so wrong anymore
This happens. Life happens. Shit happens
This is normal
This is my normal
And you are all sick for being okay
with this
I see happiness under my palm; I've got to seize it
I'll stop shaking, I'll stop feeling weak
My pulse will stop racing
Whenever I am ready

But you haven't taught me how to talk
This is my goodbye
My eyes are now open and dry
I am sane with a clear head
And I can see my real role models now
These feelings will all die soon
Nobody can help me anymore
Nobody can stop me anymore
This is what I want