The most beautiful smiles hide the darkest secrets

I’m taking summer classes for a month at my college, just moved into my cousin’s dorm suite yesterday night. Today she was in the other room, in a skype call with some guy she knows in England. He’s also the same ethnicity we are. I went into the room to get something from her and he noticed I was there. He asked who I was and I was introduced as the cousin to my cousin. So, the dude asked me for my ethnic name. I am from one of those cultures where it’s common to have a Western name and then the ethnic name. So I said my ethnic name. He told me to say it again. I did. He told me to say it again. I did, and added not to pester me about saying it wrong. Guess what he does directly after? Hounds on me for saying it wrong. “How can you not know how to say your own name?” I grew sick of it and just left the room.

You see, though my family is from a different culture, I was born in America, the western world. I never grew up in my family’s country of origin, I can’t speak the language, and I don’t have the accent. Because of these things, I get a lot of flack from other people in my culture. Even when I go to family gatherings and they hear my lack of accent or inability to speak the native language. By most of them, I’m not considered a part of the culture at all. They see me as American. Yet, I often get categorized by my ethnicity. I get profiled because of my ethnicity, and people start assuming things about me because of it, or made fun of because of it. I am that ethnicity to them, not American. It’s difficult not belonging to anywhere, to the point to where your family doesn’t accept you.

I got on Skype with my boyfriend soon after and told him what happened. I didn’t expect him to fully understand. He is very empathetic and stuff, but he’s never had to deal with something like that. His family, by Western standards, is undeniably American. No one would even question him about that. Even though his ancestors some generations ago have come from another country, he has enough roots here to be fully American. Me, not so much. It may sound like I want to be American, but that’s not the case. I just want to be accepted. Currently, I belong to nothing. I may have my citizenship in a certain country, but I don’t really belong anywhere. After some time, he said to me that my identity is who I am, not where I come from or what my ethnicity is. Honestly, it’s partially true, but it’s also not. A big part of a person’s identity is their culture; the way they were raised, the values they hold, the way they were taught to see the world. No human exists without a culture, even the “culture-less” western world. But I seem to be stuck in the middle of these two, or rather, kicked out by both.

From there, I couldn’t help but get more and more upset. Everything that passed before my eyes seemed to aggravate and depress me further. An unarmed 22 year old woman was killed by police 2 months ago and no one has made a sound. Serious issues such as domestic violence is being made fun of, lessened, and disregarded. Flipping through pictures and comments on the Rage Guy Facebook Page, I just sank deeper into my depressive state, my thoughts becoming more of a monochromatic blur. The only thing I could glean from the mess was the statement “I hate people”. I really do sometimes. It seems that most people in the world are stupid, ignorant, self-centered, narrow-minded douche-bags. After a while, I didn’t even know what I was depressed about. I was just depressed. I hated the world and I just wanted to quit everything.

My boyfriend tried really hard to get me to cheer up, but even when he succeeded, I ended up slipping right back into the same mood. And when he asked what I was thinking, I couldn’t answer him. I’m not even sure. He’s the one who asked me to start writing on here to try and sort out my thoughts. Right now I am still kinda depressed but mostly hungry, but I don’t have any food of my own, I don’t want to eat my cousin’s food, the nearest place to get food is about a 20 minute walk, I don’t have a car, and if I did leave the room I would be locked out until my cousin gets off of work at 10 pm. I should have asked her to leave her keys, but she probably needs them.

Being in that mood reminded me of 2 years ago, when I got so depressed during the school semester that I got fired from my job and flunked out of school. Though I hadn’t dissolved into tears or anything, it reminded me of how I felt most days of that year. I don’t know what to make of how I am now. I just mentioned to someone I’m chatting with that I am feeling down. He asked if I had the blues, I said “I guess”, and he said they would go away. They probably will, but I am not so sure.

The question I ask myself at least once a day with varying intensities: what am I doing with my life?

Can’t sleep. Again.

Not noise. Roomie has been quietly studying for hours.

I’ve been lying here since 11 and only been tossing and turning.

Guess why.

Honestly, I need sleep tonight; I have a final presentation in the morning. But ugh. Even if my roommate went out of the room or went to sleep soon, I don’t want to go down that route again. But ughhhh, on a scale of 1 to 5, 4.3. It’s a problem. *sigh*, what to do…

I’m a mess, yes.

We have our end of year concert tomorrow, so we are running through the sings one more time. Usually i am more excited but… I am pondering whether to quit choir next semester, though I know my singing will suffer without the constant work out. For some reason, I come here and always feel so alone, despite the fact there is about 150+ people in here. I guess I feel somewhat isolated. I am not sure if these feelings are valid/genuine or if the Devil is getting at me through my emotions… again. I dunno, I’ll explore this thought later.

I have too many of these posts.

I can almost hear a sound in the back of my head; it sounds and feels like sharp nails on a chalkboard. On my right side I can almost hear screaming, and on the left I can hear my roommate and whatever else is going on in the room; her on the phone, her friends coming over and talking, the microwave, all of it. It’s driving me nuts. I can feel lines forming under my eyes and it’s not OK.

For a while, I haven’t been able to fall asleep easily. Sometimes it takes me 20+ minutes, sometimes an hour and a half. It’s horrible and I don’t know why. It may be because of stress, because I think too much, I dunno. But I simply cannot sleep, no matter how tired I feel. And, unfortunately, the only constant way I can get myself to a state where I can fall asleep is to masturbate.

No matter what I try, that has seemed to be the only sure way to get my mind and body to calm down enough to be able to fall asleep. It doesn’t only apply to recently; I’ve had plenty of times when I wasn’t able to sleep unless I was either touched in that way (by myself or someone else) or I was able to come. Maybe it’s partially due to force of habit. But that is not an option now, even if my roommate did go to sleep before 1:30 am. I simply don’t want to continue that anymore.

Yeah, it may seem strange, but it honestly just feels off. It’s not that I can’t bring myself to it or that it doesn’t feel good. Efficiency-wise, I have my technique down. But it feels profoundly empty. Imagine a hollow Easter chocolate bunny, and you biting into it, thinking it was solid. Yes, they may be for different reasons and have different settings, but once you get even a glimpse of the real deal, the counterfeit isn’t quite enough, no matter how good. And I don’t just mean sex; I mean having an intimate moment with someone that you can pour every drop of your heart, mind, soul, and being into and having them do the same. Real sex, despite how far you’ve physically gone. Fakes just don’t measure up.

Nonetheless, if I can’t fall asleep, I’m not sure what else I could do. If this is one of those nights where I consciously keep my eyes closed for 2 1/2 hours and can feel the time passing (which has happened before), I’d have to do something. :/ I just dunno.

The lightening was flashing, lighting up the night sky with glimpses of daylight.

The thunder rolled and rumbled, resonating in her chest.

The rain poured from the heavens, washing everything that dared to rest upon the earth

And as she listened to its beckoning, she knew it was one of those nights.

One of those nights where she just wanted to drag him out into the rain

To stroll around, jump through puddles, to hold hands and spin till they were dizzy and doubled over in laughter.

To kiss deeply whilst feeling the water droplets soak through their hair and roll off their skin

And then eventually to run inside and peel their wet clothes off to warm up by the fire.

Still enjoying each other’s lips

Still enjoying the sound of the rain.

She looked outside and sighed…

It was one of those nights that wouldn’t happen for a long time.

At some point in my life, I developed a view on God that I know is completely wrong. If you talk with some philosophers or theologians, you may hear it called the “clockwork theory”. Basically, it muses that God, or whatever higher power they think is out there, did create the world and all that is in it. However, once everything was set up, it was left alone to handle its own course. This is why they call it the “clockwork theory”: it’s as is God made the clock, set the time, and left it to tick and tock as it should.

I already told you that I know it’s wrong; let me tell you how I know that. First off, God listens to and answers prayer. He asks for that communication several times in the Bible. Secondly, He has intervened in people’s lives before on miraculous scale. He still does too. Thirdly and lastly, though I could continue, Jesus came to die for our sins, which is as out-of-the-way as you can go. Yet I found myself holding to this sentiment. However, I never thought this was true for other people; only for me.

I always find myself disregarding any worth I had, probably to the point of nonsense. If anyone offers me a compliment, I fight off the urge to disagree. When someone says something favorable about me, I instantly refute it in my mind. It doesn’t matter if they are talking to me or merely about me; the results are usually the same. I suppose this is what has shaped my view on God.

Honestly, I sometimes don’t think God would want to waste His time on me, this useless sack of a failure. Not that He would ignore anyone else. He loves everyone, but not me. I’ve had my time to prove my worth and I’ve come back empty. Why would He waste His time?

However, why would I think I’m so special that He would ignore or reject only me? Only me. No one else but me? Where would I get this idea from? I’m still exploring myself, but this is what I’ve found so far and what I’ll be using as a starting point.

But I keep laying here with my eyes wide open, staring beyond the blank walls and thinking. And I don’t know if it’s the stories I’ve been reading lately, or the ovulation hormones pumping through my body, or the tiring weekend I’ve had… or maybe it’s because it’s almost my birthday and I feel this weird sense of fear and loneliness, but I just miss him. Yeah, you know who I’m talking about. But how I crave his comfort right now, even more so as I listened to his voice over the phone, overtaken by his tiredness, dripping with sentiment like early morning dew from a flower. And how I ached to touch him then. I can almost feel him laying beside me, holding me close, wrapping his arm around me as we drift to sleep. Even now, all I can do is imagine him here as I pull my sheets closer. The crude substitute they are, they’ll have to do. I reach out to brush the cheek of the illusion in front of me and force myself, with no avail, to truly fall asleep.

I really can’t help looking at my last post and thinking “I wrote all that on my phone!” 7 paragraphs. On a phone. Crimidy.

I feel like I always find myself writing on here through my phone while curled up under covers. I should just call this tumblr “blogging in bed”. But no matter.

It seems like I haven’t written in forever. I am currently in school, fulfilling the last month. And I am currently sick. I’ve actually lost my voice and am (now) coughing horrendously. But about 2 weeks ago was Spring Break and I went to visit my boyfriend. And it was wonderful. But I have cried an ungodly amount of times between then and now, and keep in mind that I never cry. Most people think that my tear ducts had ceased to function a long time ago.

The reason I have been crying so much is because of a lot of introspection. How I really feel about myself and why and what could be causing it. I guess I can mostly blame the boyfriend for that. He’s been catching up on all my discouraging talk towards and about myself and has been trying to help me through them. Even if he doesn’t really bring it up and I end up starting the topic, he is able to steer it in the deeper, or more convoluted, direction. He’s been great, but everything is just so hard.

It seems that I just don’t see value in myself. Or rather, I can’t. And I feel like I need to do things right and be amazing and impress people around me or live up to their expectations in order to find my worth. And I already know that I hate having to depend on people or people doing stuff for me because I feel like a burden. So I try to do everything myself and don’t really confide in anybody. However, when the pressure builds and everything gets too much, I end up cracking because I simply can’t do everything on my own. And that’s not even touching the fact that I say “I don’t know” a lot, not only because I feel like if I gave an actual opinion I would be criticized and I don’t want to be wrong, but also I just can’t trust other people or myself enough to go digging for what I really feel on a topic.

That’s a lot of self-analyzation.

But there is one thing that I really want to figure out: how do I get over this? I hate being like this, not letting myself get to close to people (including my own parents), never being able to be satisfied or content with what I do or where I am, thinking that if I killed myself that it wouldn’t change much in the world. I really don’t like living like this, but as it comes up with my boyfriend, as well as other times before, it always seems to boil down to one thing: total surrender to God.

It sound simple, yes? Essentially, it is. So why do I have such a hard time with it? Even when it comes to God’s will, I’ve expected Him to tell me what to do and I’d do it. I guess it’s partially how I’ve grown up, but nonetheless. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to let go. If God has control over my thoughts, I wouldn’t think negatively of myself. If He took over my relationships, He’d guide me in who is trustworthy and who is not and give me strength enough to be vulnerable. If He took over my actions, then the things I’d end up doing would have worth because they’d be for His plan. And there’s more. So why do I find it so hard to just let go? Honestly, I don’t even think I know how to do that.

This would have been much easier if I just went back on my computer and typed this out. I think I’ve spent a half-hour writing this. -_- No matter. Maybe I’ll be able to fall asleep now. G’night.