I think it's funny how i come back to this blog after months of a hiatus, knowing noone but myself reads it occasionally, as though i like seeing what i type like rewinding and replaying an old tape, as though i'm hoping for a response from an imagined passerby, as though what i type here really reflected my thoughts and emotions, like words could ever capture what i experience. i could never write to anyone's heart, i write plainly and simply and horribly which perhaps is what i am. plain simple, predictable, ugly.

yeah i'm not ugly sometimes i look in the mirror and think i'm actually kinda pretty. haha. but who tells other people they think they themselves are pretty?

but it's this innate ugliness i know which resides in me. i am insecure. Physics says that for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction, so in response, so i'll not feel that gnawing inadequacy, there's this membrane that is a shield like the kind that Hermione conjures up with spells in Harry Potter which i like to think protects me and keeps me safely distant from everyone. even my closest friends. how tragic. i'd like to say that i'm just like every other girl who shares everything with her bestfriends but whats to share when i've no best friend (in its raw meaning) and there's nothing i'll allow myself to share unless it's nothing too revealing.

There was this period where i secretly hoped the pain i was feeling was enough for it to qualify as chronic depression, but it passed. so i wasn't really in depression at all, just depressed temporarily; i was almost disappointed at that. because then the hurt could not be explained, in limbo, which is the worst state i ever felt. which i wished other people would be able to understand, but which i would wish noone else would have to experience. because it's hollow and empty and lonely.

But in a perverse manner, i embrace the limbo, because the pain made me feel alive. i can't remember times i was happy, in ecstasy kind of happy, but i can remember the pain, the blackness, the one-ness, the salinity. it's not like i'm in self-pity, because it seems i'm over that now. but it's so beautiful in certain ways. i wish i write beautifully so i could capture this feeling and this revelation, but i don't.

goodnight, there's enough of me here. goodnight.