Thursday, August 7, 2014


I started blogging four years ago because I was bored and treated the internet like a shiny new toy that was yet to be unwrapped. I talked about silly things- shopping lists and annoying sisters, and that was what this entire thing was all about back then; a means of entertainment as I waited for the seemingly endless summer days to pass. This was how my mind worked at that time: watch T.V, think of something random, hurry and post it without checking for typographical errors, and feel accomplished. I was a very simple kid with a particularly limited perspective. I was almost always happy, and almost everything made sense.

Then, High School rolled out and a few things changed about me. My body started chugging out more hormones and with this came a wave of turbulent emotions. I was still mostly a heartless kid, but I became more stubborn than ever. Suddenly, fights with my parents had gotten worse, and I started caring about other things aside from my shows or my friends.

I hit my lowest point in Junior year. A series of unfortunate events coupled with successive intense arguments I had with my parents made for quite a troubled and depressed teenage girl. I still mostly kept to myself and smiled when someone else was with me, but I do remember lying in bed all weekend and chocolate being the only thing that could ease my mood.

Senior Year was a mix of the best and the worst. While I still despised a lot of things about everything around me, it was decidedly better than I had been during those horrid months the year before. And while my relationships with everyone were getting better, my situation certainly wasn't. I suddenly hated school, and everything about it stressed the heck out of me. But I could deal with that because school still ended at 4:30 every day, and so I only needed to wait for a little while before returning home and doing relaxing things.

Nevertheless, I do believe that I am very fortunate to have grown up with this type of mindset. Because regardless of whatever secret trouble I went through or my teenage angst, I'm still a naturally positive thinker. I choose to be happy and look at the bright side of things. I will always believe that someone has it worse than me, and I will always be somehow okay. In this sense, I am not a prisoner of my own mind the same way a lot of my friends are. I believe that the world can be just as bright and happy as it is bleak and desolate; that happy people can be as deep as sad ones.

And so, it's interesting to note how this blog has captured and archived several versions of me from different points in my life; how my thoughts have matured and progressed with every new thing I posted. I can see exactly how my bubbly twelve-year-old self saw the world and compare it to my angsty fifteen. It's as though somebody took snapshots of my thoughts and feelings and preserved them forever.

However, it feels as though my blog has finally reached its natural end as I'm done with High School. It's fine time to put my things in a box and set them aside until I come across them again someday. I believe that this is what I have to do with this blog. This would be the best time and way to end it.

Of course, I won't stop blogging, but I'll be in college soon. I'll be maturing differently.

And so, adios amigos! It's been a crazy and thrilling teenage ride!



the love you keep
is toxic.
And from a mile away
I watch,
scowling as you suffocate
in the fumes.

But time and time again,
you return
to that barren wasteland,
that hollow trunk
for somehow you hope
no, believe-
in a long extinguished star.

To me,
you are simply foolish;
But perhaps it is I who is
blind and silly
for I am unable to gaze past the smoke
and see the embers within.

Friday, August 1, 2014

I Am Maturing

I am quite aware of these emotional changes. I can feel myself handling situations differently. I’d rather read a book than go outside and play hide and seek. I can settle at a corner and entertain myself for hours past. I haven’t watched clouds form or move in a long time. Climbing that pole and staying at the roof suddenly seems dangerous. I am aware that some things are my fault and some people need to be forgiven. I don’t pick fights with my younger sister as frequently as I used to. I can’t see the elephant in the hat. Sometimes, I find children annoying.

And they say it’s a good thing.

But ten years ago, my uncle was sixteen and played with me and my siblings in a white room full of pictures. Ten years ago, that was the most fun I ever had. He’d chase us around and pretend to be a monster, while we regarded him as anything but. And several years ago, my uncle grew up.

He became serious and boring. Plain, like the rest of those people. He rarely visited us in the white room, and he never pretended to be a monster ever again. I wondered what it was about marriage that made people forget how to have fun. I wondered why grown-ups always frowned and didn't seem happy.

I told myself never to be like him. It wasn't cool.

And today I realize that it has already been happening… steadily, perhaps inevitably.  I realize that the sky used to be lighter and less polluted. I realize that this is just a natural reaction to the increasing number of responsibilities handed over to me. But I would give everything to go back in time, hear those old jokes and find them as amusing as I did when I was seven.

(written last week)


It doesn't happen very often but sometimes, she does feel lonely. Sometimes, she resents every single human being on the planet. Sometimes, her heart feels heavy and she has to come into terms with all of her horrible thoughts and feelings. And sometimes, she has to admit that she isn't okay with it.

She hears them often enough- thoughtless jabs from her family that are meant to be funny and entertaining. She shrugs them off, sometimes throwing in a sharp rebut of her own. It has been like this for over a decade, and so she has gotten pretty used to it. She is used to being the receiving end of all these stupid jokes. Sometimes, she almost convinces herself; almost believes that she doesn't have a problem with it- until she starts reflecting over them afterwards, of course.

Because sometimes, when she is completely alone, when she is free to ponder over whatever pointless topic comes to mind, sometimes she ends up thinking about certain events, certain inconsiderate words passed between her family and her, and sometimes she wants to sink into the ground and fade into oblivion.

Yes, she does feel alone. Whatever they believe her to be- which is a cold-hearted selfish brat among other things- can cut like diamond, and yes, it can affect her, too. Because while she looks careless, insensitive, and strong-willed, a part of her is still a sixteen-year-old girl who wants to be loved.

A part of her is still a child craving for affection. A daughter secretly wishing for love and care. A person wanting appreciation. A human being dying to be accepted.

But she does not know how to show love. Not anymore. A decade of being 'bad' is a tough habit to break. She doesn't know how to say 'I love you,' or be sweet, or even kiss anyone in the cheek. She tries to, sometimes, but nobody ever notices. Sometimes they say thoughtless things that cut her like diamond.

However positively she tries to look at it, she doesn't believe that they understand her. She doesn't think they are sensitive enough hear to her wishes. She doesn't believe any single one of them would actually stop long enough to listen to her heart. And so she keeps it locked and hidden. And so she keeps herself cold and distant.

Perhaps somebody out there understands and has gone through something similar. Perhaps she just hasn't met this person yet. She often wishes she had, though. All she wants is a friend-someone who can see through her pretenses and bring down her walls. Someone who can see the hurt and anguish and the vulnerable girl underneath her persona.

Because today she feels alone, and she can't take it anymore.

(Written by an angsty sixteen-year-old several months ago)


The clock has struck
and now I feel
a burst of sensations
shooting from within.

Smiling, thankful, joyous.
I am far from that
bubbly thirteen year old
or angsty fifteen.

I have settled with
this persona
quite amicably.

It's queer-
being older,
as though you have locked
your younger self away

or tweaked how
you are perceived
ever so slightly
but with vastly different responses.

No- sixteen is far too young,
too innocent,
too foolish,
but seventeen is just right

Here, let me take you
to those places
where a day ago
you were unacceptable.

Let me tell you some secrets
for you are now mature
unlike that naive sixteen.
Oh, how big a leap it is!

An odd feeling, indeed.
Nevertheless, i'm getting
a bit used to it

I look to the future
with wide eyes
and to the past
with crinkled ones.

Yes, these experiences
I shan't let go of
that my past selves
may live through me.

For I will always remember
Fourteen's vanity,
Fifteen's sweetness;
Even Twelve's unkindness.

And may I someday
look back on this moment
with fondness.
Thank you for this day!

And thank you for the days to come!