sea

I haven't been emotionally stable enough recently to be able to take silence as a reply from you, especially when you tell me something is wrong but won't tell me what. Nights like these I really wish I could run to the sea and let it swallow me up, my limbs caressed by the waves and my entire being engulfed by the darkest depths of waters.

But no. I can only contend with my sheets, whose softness bears more tangible weight than your presence, six days a week. It brings less physical comfort than the waves but it also means that I have to wake up the next day.

Maybe everyone actually hates me and I have been such a fool. What a great big fool.

Birthday went pretty well, but some things cropped up and some things were messed up but let's just leave it as that because it's been a week.

Lately, I feel out of place. Again. Must this feeling come back every now and then to remind me of my place? To remind me of...? I don't know. But I look at some of the people I know and think to myself, You're all lovely people but I don't fit in, like I know something that they don't. Maybe that's the truth, or maybe I lack something they have.

Times like these I miss my old friends so much. Then I realise that I haven't been great at keeping in contact with them. And I wish very much that I am shrinking as I cower into a little ball, my entire being compressed smaller and smaller, until at last I disappear.

my dumb insecurity (in which I waver in my points of view)

I'm a really insecure person who pretends to be able to understand people but I really don't. This realisation (or observation) stems from three things that I realised I do:

1. I try to remind people that I exist
2. I feel bad about doing that because I don't know if I'm offended
3. I do it anyway because I am insecure

It's like this endless cycle of fretting, and I don't want to care about what people think of me. But sadly, I still do. Somehow, impressions of me are something I obsess about but also things that I can hardly change. I am also at a point where I am unsure of my bearings, unsure about my stance.

Which brings me to the next thing on my mind.

Recently, I've been reading about Malala Yousafzai and I get increasingly confused as I read more and more about it. At first, I was really heartened to hear of such a young, peaceful activist for education and women's rights. Her story was one that really touched me because education and women's rights are very important things to me. 

As I read into the story, about how people in her home aren't too receptive to what she has done, about the fact that she might have either exaggerated situations or over-generalised the predicament of her people, about the fact that (this is something more controversial and sensational) she may have been manipulated by others to give certain impressions about her oppressors, I get more and more uncertain of what I should believe.

Should I believe that she is what she says she is, or should I believe the naysayers? Should I believe the positive or negative? What do I choose believe? What do I want to believe

It makes me want to stop reading about the whole case itself, but it also makes me want to find a truth for myself. But is my truth the real truth?

Augh, my head. I'm tired and unsure. I could say that it's because of school, but I think it's something else.

Tyler, The Creator - Tamale

I really liked this?!?!

Studying soci and french gives me a headache. Bewildered studious milkmaid at your service.

unsocial media

The more I think about my online presence, the more inhuman I feel.

I have an account on almost every social media platform, short of Vine (and I'm not getting that because of issues with my phone). But having a presence doesn't mean anything. In fact, the more I look at the things I post (or rather, do not post), the more disconnected I feel with the people around me.