twiinklex ❤

Bad decisions make good stories. And I always have a good story.

The only way out is through

“If someone asks, “How are you?” we usually feel compelled to respond with positivity. We believe that no one wants to hear our woes and neither do we want to drag anyone else down with us, so we mask our emotions, put on a brave face and try to convince the outer world that we are doing just fine.

“The trouble is we aren’t always okay, but because we all wear a happy disguise, we try to fool people so that we aren’t the odd one out. We post smiling pictures on our social media accounts, send upbeat text messages and temporarily lift ourselves if someone unexpectedly calls.”

[Tough Times: The Only Way Out Is Through]

Been feeling really down recently despite having so much to look forward to as mentioned in my previous post. Maybe I was just trying to convince myself of why I should be happy. But I realised in Europe that you can be at the most beautiful places on Earth and still feel in pieces and spend half the time there crying.

I am actually super tired from all my extra responsibilities at work. Yes, I’m more than happy to do and learn new things. But some days, I really wonder what I’m slaving away for and if it’s all worth it. Or if anyone even appreciates it.

Yet besides being a good distraction, work really does make me feel very happy and fulfilled sometimes. It was also what kept me sane and going when all I wanted to do was fall apart. But take my job away and all that I have achieved… what am I left with?

Had one of my stupid relapses i.e. crying drunk again yesterday night. It wasn’t as bad as when I broke my tooth or like Super Summer but still. So stupid because just hours earlier I was writing this story about a drunk crying woman and saying that I know how she feels -_-

Don’t know how my friends tolerate me because I am so sick of this. But feels like there are very few people I can talk to about it because everyone expects you to be over it already, and even less who will understand this degree of pain.

Even days before this, I was looking at old pictures in bed (sober) and started crying again.

“Maybe it’s not fair to say you broke my heart because I walked headfirst into the blade, offering my body up to you like an unwanted sacrifice. Offering my secrets to you like undesired gifts with ripped up receipts.

“Maybe it’s not fair to say you broke my heart because I tore it out and placed it at your feet without telling you, how could you avoid stepping on something you didn’t even notice was there?”

[A Letter to the First Boy who Broke My Heart]

It feels like I’m the one who brought all this pain on myself and that I am asking for it… from start to end. I was the one who let it go on when I clearly knew better, I was the one who walked away from what made me very happy because it made me just as miserable 🙁

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