Where I Am Alone

Summer reconciled me with family - spending copious amounts of time with one another tends to do that. Being separated from them is like leaving your entire heart behind and becoming a moving body. I miss being able to walk into a room and know that somebody will be there. Even though I have friends who will keep me company, I cannot help but feel alone. 

Of course, this is not where I was mentally. I think we should backtrack to summer. 

Summer was not only the time of reconciliation, it was of repentance. I tried to think about what I could have done wrong with my relationships, and what I could do to make amends. He was on my mind more than the thought of eating. I would wake up in the morning and wonder: Is he doing okay? Did he find a job already? Has he moved out of that small flat? 

These tiny thoughts accumulated into an obsession. I needed to see him again. I needed 'closure', as other people called it. But this wasn't closure. It was my loneliness that needed to be addressed. 

Coming back to the tiny town, filled with bitter memories and a desperation to connect with somebody, I longed to be with him again. After all the emotional turmoil he put me through, I still believed it would be a smart idea to speak to him. Even though I knew he was manipulative, knew he didn't care how I felt, knew he probably moved on already - I wanted to see him. 

I feel terrible that I ever made judgements about people in toxic relationships. I thought cutting people out would be easy because it would be healthy. But sometimes, doing what is right can hurt so much more than remaining in a routine of pain. He was becoming an unhealthy addiction even though he wasn't in my life anymore. 

I wondered if I would ever move on, or if I'd be cursed to long for him the rest of my life. I would never be able to find somebody to love because I needed his validation more. Even now, it is a thought nibbling on the back of my mind. 

But I went full-speed ahead. 

I found a part-time job to earn my own money and become more independent; I bought a car so that I wouldn't be confined in this little area; I worked hard to make the jujitsu club flourish; I forced myself to socialise with new people so that I could gain better perspectives. And it was the last one that really pulled me through. 

In a dingy pub in Scotland, a slightly tipsy girl wandered up to me. She was perfectly friendly, and I couldn't sense anything malicious from her, so I stood there and chatted. It was nice and casual - work and the weather - until she suddenly uttered: "So I heard about what happened between you and him."

What?

"Oh shit. I didn't tell you he stayed together with me over summer."

Okay...

"He told me everything."

Even though I explicitly told him not to. Great.

"And I think you're right. He's a total dick."

That wasn't what made me feel better though. I already knew he was a hypocrite, that he spread gossip, that he was a total dick. 

"And he was sleeping with that other girl all summer. Punched my wall in my brand new flat as well."

Ah. 

Another girl. 

It's always the same for him. He never changes. It's always just changing company. I was never really a passing thought for him. All this time, I've been pining. All this time, I've been losing my head. I've been so stupid. And finally, all the longing, the pain, the anger dissipated. 

I hope I don't see him again. 

1. Because he's not right for me.

2. Because it brings up bad memories.

3. Because I've weak. And I could want him again. 

Healing is a process. But it's also not a straight line. (I've learnt this the hard way.) It's a spiral, and sometimes you go back to the bad place and fall. You'll re-emerge though. It just takes time and effort. 

It'll almost be half a year now. I'm still on the way to being better. Every challenge that appears, I sometimes do wish I had him with me. But I'll be strong enough one day not to think like that. I can handle it. Or even better, I might be in a good enough place to be with somebody else. That would be nice. I'll keep you posted until then. 

Where I Am Calm

Being at home for a month has really domesticated me and given me liberty to think - not that I didn't before but this has really amplified things.

I had a relationship with a sociopath, and I will never get closure. I had made my peace with it and my life is now moving on in that sad little pace that it always has. But that's okay. And I'm okay.

I'm glad that this happened and now I'm back in my little nook, writing and enjoying life. I'm reading widely now, trying out new hobbies, engaging with old friends.

If you're ever in a tough situation, I really hope you have good friends. Because you're going to pull through no matter what. I strongly believe that. But having good friends, real friends who will stick with you thick and thin, really speeds up the process. And I think my university experience has taught me more about myself than ever before, and more importantly, about the people around me.

So, what I'm rambling on about is: be thankful.

And if you are, then you're doing good. And life will thank you in its own way. Until then, you stay strong!

Where Freedom is Responsibility

Today, in the UK, it is the longest day. As I type up my thoughts and feelings at eleven o'clock at night, the sun continues to shine in the sky as if mocking my sense of time - but it would not be incorrect. The events of yesterday are raw and feel as though it were all a dream. Everything around me is surrounded in mist and the only thing that is clear to me is that I am typing to clarify things.

My writing has taken a hit in the worst way. I have been slacking off, dismissing my own principles, criticizing any work that I manage to dribble out of my idle mind. I feel as though I'm letting people down through all of my choices. 

Yesterday, I returned to my university out of free will. 

Well, sort of. My friend asked if she could get a ride up and I agreed to it since I hadn't been to training for months. There was also a photoshoot happening which I had planned so I figured it would be the mature thing to attend it. These are only some of the excuses I made. I can come up with more: I was bored; I felt obligated; I really really wanted to see him again. 

I had been planning this for weeks. I wanted to see him there, I knew he would be there and I wanted to prepare myself for what I would say. 

There was nothing I could say.

I walked into that hall, staring at him from a distance and ended up judging myself for my decision. 

I caved. That was what happened. I sought attention and went about it in the worst way possible. I knew subconsciously yet I let myself go. I should have taken more responsibility for myself, my mental health and my principles.

As things were, we got teamed up for training and his hands were on me once again. There was nothing melodramatic about it. Just cold hands on top of my clammy ones, twisting them into position. I wish I could say there was a spark there, or we flinched when we touch, or at least something - if only to say there was history between us. But there was nothing.

Everything was in my head.

This guy doesn't care about me. He hasn't spoken to me. And even though he held my hand there, looked me right in the eye, said my name confidently, he doesn't give a crap.

I've been hurt about it before. I'm still hurt. But this made it real.

What am I supposed to do?

How do I make this go away?

How do I stop? 

Where I Go Back

I thought I'd never see him again.

On my final day, suitcase and all, he comes to my flat. He tells me he broke up with the other girl, that I was always the one because I tried to get to know him, that he would like to have asked me out properly. He said all the things I wanted him to say.

If only this came earlier.

I am not a strong-willed person. I am weak, but everybody has been right. Time does change your perspective on things. His validation made me feel great, but it is manipulation. To do this to me on such short notice, to take advantage of being option two, to try to lower my self-esteem once again - that's really low.

Yet I couldn't help but let him in, comfort him with hushed tones, reassure him that I was here.

Never did I expect this chance to arise. Never did I expect me to react this way. Never did I expect him to break his friendship with me.

What does that even mean? Am I not even enough to respect? Or is he just that bad of a person? All of the options are awful.

Most of all, I am numb.

I don't feel an amplitude of emotions, in fact I feel nothing. I don't know how I am supposed to face him, talk to him, react to him. Nothing makes much sense anymore.

Here I am now, away from the countryside which I thought was refuge, but it brings me more frustration to think about it. I had finally begun to move on and now I've been pulled back. It was better when he was with somebody else, not giving me the validation I needed.

Being in my home now feels restraining. I want to go back and speak to him but I don't know if that's the desperation talking. I've been doing what everybody tells me to do: give it time. Yet sitting still has not been helping me at all.

There are so many details to run through, so many plans to transpire, so many issues to address. The worst part is that he is a fuckboy who does not care, but I am a girl who does.

I need time to heal again.

I've gone back to the same place again. There is no peace for me. But there will be.

Where I Stay

Finally, I have reached the end of my university year which I had so anticipated, only now I don't seem to want to leave. The peaceful hills and crumbling buildings of Scotland now allure me more than anything else, and I seem not to want to leave the place that has tortured me. But it is so beautiful that the remnants of my heartbreak seem not to matter.

I still haven't cried. Maybe I never cared that much for him, or maybe I am still raw from how he tore me up. Maybe I am too numb, too unfeeling to know how to cry anymore.

It's addictive to begin thinking of ways to confront your own fears. It's as if you're deliberately creating drama around yourself but it's not. It's cathartic to do so. I need something big so that I never have to look back again. Yet all I am seeing is him, with a beautiful girl next to him, in the beautiful backdrop of Scotland.

People have been telling me that it takes time to heal, but people never mention what to do with it.

I have busied myself with studies and now they are over. I have pampered myself with treats and now I feel ugly. I have spent time with friends only to realise how lonely I am and how needy I have become. So tell me, what am I to do?

Each time, I come back to this haunting vision of the girl. She has the silkiest blonde hair and the most brilliant azure eyes I have ever seen - if there was anybody that could act the princess, it would be her. And from the description of her, she seems a shy but sweet girl. And she has him.

I like to think she had the same choice to make as I did, and she decided to stay. I had to leave, just as I have to go home now. This pleasant town will be rid of the remnants of my experiences when I return for the next year. I've always hated the expression: turn over a new leaf, or the whole New Year's resolution. But I guess we all have to start somewhere.

I've become the girl I never wanted to be, and now the only way is up.

I leave in two days, and I think I'm going to say goodbye to him. I'll pluck the courage from within me and face him. I'll tell him: Thank you for giving me this learning experience, and I hope you find what you're looking for. Then I can be stronger, become the woman I need to be, with the life I deserve.

The world is so much more than this coastal town and university studies and stupid fuckboys. It really isn't. I know this and I can do this.

I stay and I leave.

Where I Feel Used

I've been pretty honest about my romantic pursuits on this blog, so I think it is only fair that I tell you the result of them.

If you have read the previous blogs, then you will know I had my eye on this one guy for a long time. And I planned to ask him out, then failed dramatically. Well, a month ago, I somewhat succeeded.

I've never been the social type of person. I don't do well in parties, especially not being the odd one out by not drinking. I'm not advocating peer pressure at all, but in those situations, it's difficult not to be influenced. So I had a drink. And me, being the lightweight who never drinks, feels all fluttery and confident. (Now I just feel stupid and am put off drinking ever again.) Feeling that much confidence means I, of course, go and speak to the person I've been pining over.

We hit it off.

We really did. We talked about everything. It got intense quite quickly, and the flirting didn't go over my head no matter how tipsy I was. So when he told me he could walk me home, I jumped at the chance.

I've never had anybody show interest in me. I've never been in a relationship before. Everything is new and shiny. And he walked me home like a perfect gentleman and then asked if we could hang out tomorrow. I say yes.

That night was conflicting enough as it was. When I was home and had wiped off all the remnants of the night, I couldn't tell if he wanted a solid friendship or if I was walking into something different entirely. And I had to keep in mind that he wouldn't be here for long. How would this influence me? How would he feel? How do I feel?

I'm not exactly in the best position to speak, but I think if you ever feel conflicted in this way, just go for whatever you feel is right. It doesn't necessarily have to be the best decision (trust me on this), but it means you won't regret it.

For me, the best decision was to chance it. So the next night, I was around at his house to watch a movie. Again, a stupid, naive decision, but nonetheless I did it. I didn't know what to expect but he made a move pretty quickly. I was pleasantly surprised and tried to enjoy myself, until he pulled away and told me that he was seeing other people.

It wasn't so much of a slap to the face as it was a what-the-actual-fuck moment.

You can imagine that after wanting something for so long and having it all in my head, then having it crush and burn so quickly, I was pretty shaken up. The logical choice in this moment in time would have been to walk out of there like a diva, because you should never have to deal with this - especially if you've never experienced this before. But I gave it a shot, like the many times I have already, and listened to him explain.

He's a player. There's no way around it.

I am not. I haven't even been intimate with anybody. Our interests are conflicted and misaligned, yet the attraction was real. I didn't know what to do, so I suggested we get to know each other a bit better before I make a decision.

You know, when somebody admits to you that they are a player, you should really put your guard up. But I was blinded by the preconception of romance. Simply put, I was stupid.

And I dragged it out until now.

Now, I feel stupid. I feel hurt. I feel used.

Rationally, I shouldn't be feeling any of this. Because I never really knew him, I only invested a little amount of time into him, I definitely wasn't in love with him. He wasn't exactly Prince Charming either, no matter how much I tried to make him into one. He's more of a Beast.

We ended on very good terms, because we both wanted to stay friends and enjoy each other's company. But of course, after this whole debacle, it's a little difficult to not be awkward around one other. We need to hold back a little.

So this is my withdrawal stage. I feel like crap. And although I'm not heartbroken, I feel awful. Mainly because the other day, I met the girl he's seeing (probably officially now). And as much as I advocate feminism and not dragging others down, I easily found myself comparing us. It felt disgusting to be doing that and to have to acknowledge that he chose her. I mean, I did the breaking up but he went to her. Does that make any sense?

In the long term, I know this is best for me. I deserve more than the less than half attention he gave to me. I still care for him, but I know that one day I will stop. It just hurts right now. It hurts so much that I consider messaging him just to see his face. But I can't. I need to stay where I am, stay strong, stay confident.

My self-esteem is in the gutter right now. All his words seem to add up to nothing, yet I crave it. I'm this starved, pathetic creature that nobody loves. I just have to be okay with it.

And whoever you are, I want you to know that this is one of the lowest I have felt. Even so, I need to cling onto the hope that there are better people out there. And you, reading this right now, deserve more as well. So one day, when I look back at this experience, I'll be able to say I learned my lesson, and that I am happy.
 

Where I Am Weak

I don't know who you are, but you are here to know me. From that, I assume that you are a nice person who is willing to give me a chance - which is why I want to share some experience and advice with you.

This weekend, I got a date with the boy I previously mentioned. I thought I wouldn't pursue it but as chances were, I did. There's a sense of vulgarity there, that I said one thing and did another. Hypocrisy, you might even say. But it was a moment of weakness, of loneliness, of validation.

Things went well, escalated at a rate I couldn't control. And he mentions that he has another girl in his life.

Immediately I pull away.

What does he mean?

I was naive. I assumed exclusivity was a given in any relationship. I made a mistake.

But then he made an offer.

He said, "I'm not expecting anything from you. If you want, we could do anything."

I'm a vulnerable person and I hate being that way. I knew I would cave if I answered, so I did what I could in the situation. I delayed my answer and said I needed time to think.

Someone wise once said that if you hesitate, then the answer is usually no. I disagree. I think that giving yourself time and space will let you come to an answer that you will not regret. Sure, I'm an emotional person who gets swayed easily but I am not impulsive. Those are completely different things.

At the moment, things are still unresolved. I feel sick thinking about it, about him. I know it's bad. I know I should refuse. I just don't know how.

I feel stupid and used even though we didn't do anything. But just the moments of intimacy, the fact that he made a move despite being in some form of a relationship, the way he said that he liked me; all of it feels so fabricated now. I need some form of outlet.

I don't know if anybody will read this, or if you're even willing to give advice on the matter. But I am torn to bits. 

Where My Efforts Go

Dear lovely people reading this,

I feel exceedingly bad that this blog - although it does document my journey in life and growing personality - has become a place for me to complain about the issues in my life. I never hope to use the word 'unfair' here. It's not a concept I believe in and I don't think it would benefit me or you darling readers in any way. At the same time, I don't want to sugar-coat things and tell you my life is going great because that would be lying - which I am 100% against.

So what am I going to rant about today? Well, it's something that upset me today.

As you know, I write a lot. In a day, I probably write a minimum of 10,000 words - but that's because I'm an English student and it's expected of me. Also, I'm not saying that any of my 10,000 words will be any good. They usually end up in the bin. I put in a lot of effort into my writing because I enjoy it and I really do think it's an outlet for me, especially creative writing. So you can imagine why it's such a big shock for me when I get my essay back and the feedback literally says: 'needs proofreading'.

Excuse me while I mentally choke something.

I'm not angry at my teacher, just at myself. Because damn it, I proofread so many times and I still make mistakes.

And while I was having a mini-meltdown in the classroom, I realised that I've been spending too much time in the world of fanfiction (again). This essay that I wrote was half-filled with concepts and ideas that I used in my own creative writing. And that was when my anger dissipated into disappointment, then into embarrassment, then into shame.

How could I have been so stupid as to neglect my own education?

Yet I can't leave my blog, or my fanfiction, or my poetry, or my reading alone. They genuinely bring me joy. How was I supposed to give it all up?

It doesn't help that one of my best friends who lives far away from me sent me a message saying she was worried about me. She certainly had the right to be, but I was more concerned by the fact that I had been seen through. Even miles away, she could see something was wrong. And I was touched by her concern.

I've felt like nothing's gone right these past few months. I feel like I've made no progress and that really demoralises me. When I thought that there was someone out there who cared, it made me desperate. I instantly wanted to reconnect with her. I don't know if you've ever felt this starved for human contact in your life, but it's a pretty sad thing.

I don't want to rely on her, but I also don't want to be sad. So I decided not to see her.

Maybe I'll regret it later. Maybe, like the essay, I'll realise I made a horrific mistake. Maybe I won't. But at least this is my decision.

Do you think this is a twisted way of thinking? Because sometimes I do. I feel like I've gone too far with this. Yet at the same time i can't stop. It's addictive to 'be yourself'. It's addictive to find myself, even when I'm buried ten feet under.

I don't plan to stop - with writing either. And I can only hope you don't give up on me.

Where Ideas Flow

Today, I am going to talk about my writing, specifically fanfiction. Mainly because it's my main hobby and a side-job, but also because I find it extremely challenging.

Nowadays I'm trying to write freely. (Meaning that I write whatever springs to mind: fanfiction, poetry, prose fiction, journals, blogs.) It does help keep me sane. 

So in these past weeks I have been updating my profiles on both fanfiction.net and archiveofourown. (Please feel free to look me up and read some bad writing. It's under the same name.) But with being active on the internet, I found that I've become more prone to judging myself and listening to other's opinions instead of my own. 

I don't know if you've heard of 'Anna Karenina', or even if you've tried to read it. Actually, no. Don't read it. It's long and dull. But I had to, and with reading came research. The author of 'Anna Karenina', Leo Tolstoy, serialized the chapters of his massive novel. And with each chapter, he listened to the reviews of his readership and then adjusted the plot or the theme or the characterisation. 

My question is: Is that really his own writing if he was influenced by others?

You could argue that writing a 350,000 word novel and a gay fanfiction is very different, but I say that writing is writing. 

I don't know if I should be swayed.

And the harsh critics have a point. But it's my decision whether to compromise or not. I feel extremely conflicted, because I love my reviews. Absolutely adore their opinion. But I also love my writing. 

Writing is my way of expression. Should I really be so daunted by the fact that other people want to change it? 

There are so many questions that linger in the air, and it makes me uncomfortable. Sometimes I open up a word document and stare at the blank page for a full minute, wondering if I should be writing at all. And if I did write, would it be any good? Would anybody else find it good? Is it worth the trouble?

I started writing because I enjoyed it - and because I was desperate to get Mikan and Natsume marry. That was when I was very young. Even now, I remember how elated I was when I got my first ever review. I felt valued. And now, I don't really know if I'm writing for readers or for myself. 

My latest endeavors: How To Tell Your Brother You've Been Dating His Best Friend and How to Babysit Lovino Vargas, have been received positively. And I am so glad they are because I worked quite hard on them. I am also adamant that my planning stay what it is, so that I will not change my opinion. 

Fanfiction is wonderful for me because the characters already exist but I get the chance to make them my own. It's like borrowing a costume and acting out my own scenes. While it's so much fun for me, I feel as though I'll hit a wall soon. And once I do, people will turn away from my writing. 

That would be the absolute tragedy. 

So tell me, what should I do? 

Where do I find the place I can write? Where my ideas can flow freely? Where I feel free? 

Where I Am Snowed In

So it seems even the world doesn't want me to have a date.

Storm Emma hit everyone in Scotland hard, but it hit me right in the heart.

I'm stranded in my room with barely any food, but I'm glad that I'm with flatmates whom I trust. People have raided the tiny Tesco metro close to where I live and I am not venturing any further out at risk of death. It's been tough living on potatoes for the past two days but I know it's been worse for others. I hope everybody is safe and warm.

Getting back to the question at hand, I have no idea where my courage went. It seems the storm blew it away. And I'm terrified of finding it again.

Worst part is, I found out he's going to leave this year. That leaves me with two months, barely any time to get to know somebody you like. I can feel the motivation ebbing away.

I need advice. Maybe I should call a therapist. You may be thinking: why not ask your friends? Because they're either snakes or they're too busy dating. I can't believe this has become my life.

I don't remember a time in my life where I was so devoid of friendship. My flatmates feel the same way and you would think that might unite us, but no. We seem to live our lives peacefully and individually. We come together for dinner, for a small blether, but never anything more.

I wish somebody out there could give me something more. Anybody. Man, I am way too desperate. That's definitely not going to work for the dating scene.

Where I Am Terrified

I'm scared of a lot of things: puppets, losing things, making life-changing decision... The list goes on.

So one of the things I'm going to tackle is my fear. And to do so requires courage. 

This was a quote I remembered from Princess Diaries, but apparently it's from Roosevelt. All the more impressive I guess. 

Basically what I've done is pick something I know is within my limitations here at university. So I choose to confront pain and embarrassment, through joining the Jujitsu club. (It's a Japanese martial art, not to be confused with Brazilian style jujitsu.) I thought that by joining, I could maybe overcome some of the fear that has become part of me. I always watch those dramatic moments when somebody realises that they have overcome their weakness through fighting, so I thought: let's try that. 

The purpose of jujitsu was to bring balance to my life by unbalancing me. It's a wonderful paradox. But that's all on paper. I did not expect it to be what it was. 

Jujitsu involves a lot of pain. And I thought the worst part would be getting hurt. It's not; it's hurting other people. 

Administering pain takes more courage than receiving pain. I'm pretty sure with the amount of screw-ups I've had by now, nobody wants to be my partner. Controlling how much pain you give is not pleasant, neither is it easy. There's a reason why there aren't many black belts floating about. 

Joining meant a commitment (which I am also afraid of) but it also meant being part of a group. I have been alone for so long I thought it would be awkward to blend in with other people. But the positive side of me thought it would be a good idea to join in the socials anyway, try to be approachable. I maintained this outlook, until I met - I can't even say it. I've been laughed at so many times for being unable to utter that damn word. It's what you call a senior/upperclassman in Japanese. 

He was - is still - very nice. And he made me feel cared for. He's honestly the reason I joined (but I'll never tell him that). 

He kept talking to me even though I was afraid of opening my mouth. He reached out, literally, to take my hand - just to look at my nonexistent muscles. He shared the same interest in poetry as me, which was a pleasant surprise. I feel like I took advantage of that so I concentrated my all on training. No matter where I was on the mat, I would always keep my eyes away from him. 

Thus, began my days of physical and mental torture, where I humiliated myself by being unable to do a back roll and then staying silent while everybody else around me sang and danced. I would wake up in the morning for lectures and feel my back straining. Sometimes I would end up with a lace of bruises around me. I kept slamming my head on the mat too - likely that didn't bruise. 

For our warm-ups, everybody gets into a circle to practice break falls and I would always be in the center, for everyone to watch as I failed. I mean, you could say it's an opportunity to overcome my fear of self-consciousness. Or you could say it's just cruel. 

But honestly, I'm sure you guys don't care about the specifics of jujitsu and my ongoing training. The truth is, I'm not either. You might think I'm being disrespectful, but this is a step forward in my journey to find myself. 

I, for the first time in my life, am going to ask a guy out. 

I know. It's stupid. It's not even a milestone at my age, but I'm scared anyway. I even thought about getting drunk and just calling him. It might make it easier. 

My heart is thumping just thinking about it. I've decided I'll ask tomorrow. Utter rejection is a step in the right direction, so is surprise acceptance. I need to keep in mind that I'm just asking him out - I'm not asking for his hand in marriage. I need to calm down. 

I feel really immature and ugly today. I feel dumb and superficial. I feel tired. 

I want somebody to do everything for me. I want some response, you know? God, I'm praying to you if it counts. Please, let it be. 

So how much do you guys bet I'll chicken out? 

I can't think like that, huh? I just have to go out and do it. At least you guys can be sure that I'll be documenting this as I go through it. And please, do feel free to give me advice because I sure as heck don't have any for myself. 

Where Everything Is Ahead

You don't know much about me so I thought I could lead with that today.

I am an English undergraduate, studying in Scotland. And it's beautiful here, but at university it isn't the location that matters most. At least not where I am. It's about prestige.

While lectures are insightful, they are over-complicated. I am often made to think that my opinion is of no significance, and that I should be reading critical essays more so than novels which I enjoy. 

I feel inferior, more often than not, in the area in which I am supposed to excel. All the friends that I have managed to make seem to more people to be overshadowed by. Sometimes, I can't help but feel contempt. 

'I'm writing my own novel.' 

'I published my poems.'

'I won a literary prize.'

'I'm student ambassador.' 

I share in their joy, of course. But sometimes I feel like it's too much and I'm drowning in my own uselessness. I can't do any of that. In fact, I'm doing lots of extra work just to keep up. I barely have time to enjoy student life.

For goodness sake, I write fanfiction! I'm writing gay unacknowledged fanfiction and they're winning laureates. I feel so behind. And I used to be okay with that because I thought: at least I'm having fun.

Writing is this artistic form that I've come to love. But ever since coming to this place, I feel the joy being sucked out of me. I don't know what I'm writing, and more importantly, I don't know what I'm writing for.

I have this friend who is your stereotypical scientist. As if to contrast him, I have a friend who is your stereotypical artist. I have to thank my stars for them, because they sent me on this path. Yet when I'm next to them, I feel worthless.

Do you need validation to be a person? I think I do. But is it just me? Is that a problem? Is that when I need to start seeing a therapist? 

Looking at it, it seems like I'm bitter. Maybe I am. But I don't want to be. 

It feels like I'm caught in a limbo and I can't escape. I thought this blog would be a place I could escape to, fade into anonymity or even be acknowledged as somebody that I am not. No matter how many steps I take towards becoming somebody, I get lost along the way. 

Do you ever feel that way? Or is it just me being pathetic? 

Scotland is a great place to get lost.

The air is always nipping at your skin, the sun is barely there, the thick accents of locals make you feel so different and you find yourself in the open. You're always just there, with nothing else to help you. I thought it would be therapeutic or even romantic, but after spending months in the same open space, with the whistling of the cold air being the only music you hear, I think it can drive people insane.

I used to think that this was a fake Scotland. Scotland is industrial, full of enthusiastic people and chippies everywhere. But the Scotland I find myself in is desolate. It's quite far from this picture I found online and maybe I'll share the views from where I am with you. One day.

You should really come visit. 

Saying that, I went to Tokyo during my winter break. It's a great city, full of fun things in every corner and I found myself just as lost. The lights that I craved from the countryside of Scotland was so blinding that I got confused. I could see how beautiful it was and how I could be happy there, yet I wasn't. I couldn't make myself happy. 

That's when I thought: am I clinically depressed?

But I was too scared to venture that far. So for now, you can be my judge. You can be my friend who won't put pressure on me. You can be my critic, my teacher. You can push me further.

You should tell me what I should write about next. My trip? My friends? My writing? My life?

You should also tell me how to blog, because I clearly suck at this.

Where Unwanted Things Wash Up

I've always been searching for some universal truth, because I thought if I could find it then I could become more. It's not that I didn't like who I was, only that I believed I could be better. 

After eighteen years of searching, I still haven't found it. 

I don't think I'm even close. And to be quite honest, I think I lost more than I found. The more I searched, the more I lost grip of myself. Soon enough, I was questioning myself instead of looking for answers. I was trying to force it out of me, alone. 

It didn't work. 

I began to think I was insignificant. I was just a stupid brat with nonsensical ideas. And that was when my health started to go downhill - both physically and mentally. 

Being ill has its ups and down. Many people have written about the downs and I am sure that each person has their own painful experience with it. So I will talk about the ups. 

For countless days, I would lay in bed and think. I had time afterall. And the thing is, when you're ill, you aren't as scared as you'd think. I could expand on ideas that frightened me in the past. So I stopped searched and thought about how I would never find a universal truth. I kept asking: Why? Like I was an irritating child whose curiosity knew no bounds. But I knew my boundaries. And soon, I found an answer that was right for me. 

A singular truth does not exist - that is why I will never find it. We all twist and turn our words and they lose their power. People use it to suit them whenever and however they like. I have yet to meet a person who doesn't do that. And maybe I'll never meet them. Nonetheless, I began to let it sink in that I was not capable of anything because I can't find a truth that suits everybody. 

Yet here I am. In the place where unwanted things wash up. And I love it here. That's why I want to expand this space within me and share it with you. 

This is a place for my thoughts that I believed had no place in the world. This is a sanctuary for me. For me to find myself again. For me to love myself. For me to bemoan life. For me to explain things that don't need explaining. For me to ramble on for ages and for you to realise that you maybe came to the wrong place. But I applaud you for making it this, and I thank you for listening to me. 

Maybe you'll realise this place is depressing and that you wasted time. But I'm willing to take that risk. Because maybe you'll relate with me and realise that this is a place for you too. And maybe through this blog, I will be able to reach you and help you. 

So let's find things together, in this place where unwanted things wash up.