they say don’t trust your thoughts after 9PM, but here I am writing about it.
a sudden wave of emptiness devoured my heart. A familiar yet unwelcomed visitor knocks on the front porch of my consciousness, asking to be let in. It wants to speak to me, it wants to contemplate. It’s my late night thoughts.
I’m unsatisfied with everything. With myself, with my health, with my career, with my relationships. I feel like a fleeting existence day by day, wandering through the streets of nowhere passing time, waiting for my turn to disappear.
Im a coward. I can’t look at my own messages most of the time. I would get strangers and fans reaching out to me, half horny, half decent. I hate looking at my messages. I feel overwhelmed just seeing the bold letters indicating a new text in chat from people who are simply thirsty most of the time. I’ve contemplated on simply deleting my social media just so I don’t have to deal with replying or ignoring conversations with people.
I’m unhappy with myself and my relationship. I’m comfortable — too comfortable, in fact, that I’ve become complacent with such a mediocre passing life. I don’t feel like I’m growing, let alone changing for better. I’m stagnant and I watch time pass me by, unable to do anything whether I’m by myself or with anyone else.
So I’m thinking of ending it. The relationship, i mean. They said never trust your thoughts after 9PM, and certainly this is one of those instances.
“But I don’t want to.”
And to be honest I don’t know why. I usually don’t have a hard time cutting people off in my life. It’s one of the easiest things I can do - disappear in someone’s life in a blink of an eye. I’ve done it for more than a decade, it’s a way of life at this point. That’s why I only have three friends now.
But for some odd reason, I just don’t want to. I don’t want to end it. I’ve had plenty of chances and reasons to, but I keep making excuses, I keep trusting, I keep persevering. For once in my life my heart rejects what my mind has been accustomed to doing: giving up. I want to give up because it’s easy. I don’t want to feel things any more than this. But I keep staying, I keep tolerating, I keep trying.
Why?
I don’t see a future with him. I don’t see a future with anyone. In fact I don’t see a future with myself. I can’t answer the universal ice breaker of “where do you see yourself in five or ten years?” I don’t see myself anywhere. I used to, and I thought I had one, but right now I can’t picture anything, not even the life I’m trying to live right now. No dream or passion or career can save it. My future isn’t a blank piece of paper, it’s shredded.
So I don’t know why I should stay. I’m not happy anywhere. I feel like I will be happier alone because it’s easier to live when you isolate yourself away from all the emotional friction that the world has to offer. When you’re by yourself, you don’t get to hurt anyone, therefore you won’t have to hurt as much.
What if I just disappear again? What if I just delete all my social media accounts, including messaging apps? I can be labeled as a magician with all the disappearing act I do. It’s a bad habit I can never truly get rid of as long as I live.
I’m thinking of reasons why I would want to end it. “I want someone who can lead without overpowering me” “I want someone who takes initiative” “I want someone who is as passionate as I am” “I want..”
to be alone, that’s what I truly want. Everything else is just an excuse. If a man with all the five love languages wasn’t enough, then there’s really no helping you buddy. Perhaps I’ve just been so accustomed to a solitary life that it’s become my default coping mechanism every time i feel something, be it pain or happiness. Yes, even feeling too happy or satisfied makes me afraid. I’m that fucked up.
having thoughts like this often lead me to believing I’m an intrinsically bad person, someone who’s incapable of truly loving and caring. My brain thinks too much it’s starting to believe it’s true. Maybe I’m just a liar, a manipulator, a pretentious victim, a toxic bitch. I constantly wonder to myself if I can even truly know how it feels to love. It’s kind of unfair that I keep receiving almost unconditional love from everyone around me, from my parents to friends to romantic relationships, and yet it can barely save me from myself. Is love truly the answer? Is it truly the saving grace?
I am going deeper and deeper into the mental rabbit hole that I might find myself self-sabotaging another relationship in the middle of nowhere for seemingly no reason, but it’s even worse to know it stemmed from small, simple things, and i feel kind of embarrassed to admit i spiralled just because he left me alone to play with his friends while forgetting something again.
I’m tired.
I was thinking whether I should leave this on my drafts as I haven’t completely finished the thought process and I want to re-read and proofread and refine my thoughts just like how I usually do, but this time, I’ll keep it completely raw, messy, and unfiltered. Maybe some lines don’t make sense, maybe some could’ve been worded better. But it all doesn’t matter. This is a diary. It’s not like anyone will see it after all.