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They say that your 20s are the time for you to be reckless, take big risks, take that leap of faith, and then wait and see if you fly or crash to the ground. If you fly, great, astounding, you have discovered something amazing. And if you crash, you still have the financial support of your family and the strength of spirit to pick up the pieces, figure out what you did wrong, and try again.
Apparently, you do this until you achieve your prefect happiness. But I can't seem to gather the courage to even take that first plunge.
How do you decide for your future? When there is no way to know what will happen, no way to know what you'll want, no way to know the consequences of your actions. When there is no way to know in which decision you would be happy, how do you decide?
I wish I were in school again, because back then everything was decided for me. There were no ifs and buts about it, you go to school, this is the direction your life takes. But I graduated, and suddenly the world opened up infinite possibilities. Infinite choices. Infinite decisions.
I wonder what reasons people have for doing 100words. I wonder what reasons the people who made 100words had to make 100words. I wonder why you are allowed to write more than 100 words even though the limit explicitly says 100. I wonder if everyone is honest enough to limit themselves even if no one else does. I wonder if that's the reason why. Just to see how many people have enough self-control over something inconsequential. Certainly, no one would notice one word more or less, nor would they care. What does it matter then? Does it matter then?
I heard you found someone new. I'm glad. I always told you, didn't I? There is no way this would have happened if I had stayed by your side. I've been waiting. I've been waiting for so long for you to find someone special, who can make you happy, who will look at you in the same way you looked at me, who will give you the love you deserve. I'm glad. I hope she's the one for you. I hope you never ever have to go through the pain of heartbreak again. You are much too good for that.
On days when it is hard to find what words to say, I take a breather and press random on the READ tab. I wait for it to load, and I am lost in the words of strangers. 100 words at a time, I am allowed a tiny peek at their lives, and I realize how small I am, how young, how terribly inexperienced. It scares me sometimes, that there is a whole world out there that I may never get to meet. I feel stuck here with a dull office job, waiting for life to turn into something amazing.
He says "Let's get married." as though it were natural, as though we weren't less than a year into our relationship, as though I weren't only 22 years old. It terrifies me. I am afraid that maybe this is how normal people are. They fall in love and stay in love and it's just me who keeps wanting to run away the moment I feel they love me. It is cruel and unfair and I know it, but I can't seem to help it. Stereotype says I should be the one wanting to settle. Maybe there's something wrong with me.
Almost three months into my first job, and already I want to leave. I sound like one of those naive fresh graduates who think they can make it the first few years of working, don't I? But it's not that. At this point, I'm not really too concerned about how much I'm making. It's enough. No, it's more of the environment I am after. The experience. The lessons. I want to know what I'm doing, why I'm doing it. But I'm not. How disappointing. Maybe this is the lesson I'm supposed to learn here. Maybe this is the real world.
I am afraid of being stuck.
Stuck in this little town, missing out on living by myself, making little inconsequential decisions and big life-changing ones, striking out, bouncing back.
Stuck in this dead end job, not making a difference, not making anything of myself, not maximizing my potential.
Stuck in my head, overthinking every decision and so building up a fear of actually making it.
But I'm also afraid that once I'm unstuck from this dull, safe place I'm in, there would be nothing to keep me from falling into a failure much worse that the mediocrity of now.
I dreamed about you. And it doesn't make any sense that I did, after all this time.
In my dream, I hit you. I hit you like I always imagined I would, like I always wanted to. Again and again, with abandon, taking out all the anger, the sadness, the frustration, the shame that came with being with you. Then I stopped, because it was not satisfying at all. And I realized that what I really wanted was not to hurt you as much as you had hurt me. I wanted you to love me, the way I loved you.
Today my dad told me that maybe I should start cutting back on my rice intake. I guess no one told him that it isn't nice to comment on his daughters' weight.
Sometimes I wonder if I really am fat or just fatter. At 5'2", I weigh 50kg which isn't very much really. I used to weigh 45kg though, and maybe that's why. I'm quite plumper compared to before. My clothes feel tighter, and I get tired so much more easily. I eat more that I used to, and move much less. Oh gods, I am fat now aren't I?
I dreamed of flying in a plane, and having to jump out. It was terrifying, but you held my hand and promised not to let go. It gave me courage. We jumped. The first sensation was of my gut getting pulled upwards, until I realized that it was just me falling. There was no terror, just the quiet assurance that you were there. It didn't hurt that I knew I was dreaming, which was a first. I guess even my dream self knew the impossibility of having you with me. The landing was like a reminder of reality. Soft. Sudden.
I remember the little things. I remember what I was doing and who I was with the night you called and I pretended my battery was empty. I remember the basketball game we went to after you made me cry, and the bar we went to after. I remember that song from Glee you played, even though I was much too drunk to remember anything else. I remember which NBA team won the morning I woke up in your bed literally gasping from a hangover. But then maybe these aren't little things, simply because I remember them because of you.
My 100words entries aren't very good, and I am happy that they are that way. These are my release, my de-stresser, my way of screaming out silently what I don't want the world to hear, maybe because it's just stupid rambling thoughts, or embarrassing secrets. With the creation of social media, anything coming out of anyone is up to be judged by everybody else. It is overwhelming and exhausting. It's nice to have a place to just be free to write anything and then leave it on the web to be ignored and forgotten by everyone, even by yourself.
It's funny how the wrong tone of voice, the wrong choice of words could give the wrong impression. Maybe humans should develop a form of communication wherein it is impossible to be ambiguous. Maybe then there would be less misunderstandings, less arguments.
I know it's my fault for being too sensitive. I know that's just the way you talk, and I never really minded until I was spending so much time with you. I'm not used to being spoken to like that. I grew up doing my best to avoid hearing that taint my parents' voices. That silent disappointed admonishment.
Sometimes I wonder why I am cursed with having incredibly excruciating menstrual cramps every month. When I look around me, I see no one else having to suffer this gut wrenching pain that feels as though someone has got hold of my internal organs and is gleefully squeezing the life out of them. A pain so big that sometimes you can't tell if it's your belly or back or legs or life that hurts. And once a month I am doomed to having to run home to bed and suffer no matter if there's work, or meetings, or life happening.
We see each other more often that I'd like, and less often than you would. It's a compromise neither of us feels, in which both of us feels cheated.
I wonder if we are trying too hard to make this work. I always thought we were incompatible. Our chemistry is perfect. Sparks so volatile we could burn the place down. But study says women never marry their best lay.
And it seems we can't get along. Our compromises do not leave us both satisfied, they leave us both unhappy. And sometimes I wonder, maybe we aren't really meant to be.
I want it to be easy with you. To talk about everything and nothing. To be able to tell you my stories, my opinions without being afraid you'd say you don't care. I want you to tell me what you think, to not be afraid to show me you're smart, to discuss something that would engage us both.
I want to live my life with you by my side, and not at its center. To live fully, together, but not all the time. To go out to the world knowing we'll always come home to each other.
I want to
never have to guess what you are thinking. To agree on little things, like where to eat for dinner, or what to do today. It is exhausting having to do that "What do you want?" dance with you all the time.
Most of all, I want to know what you want. To be able to be with you without having to wonder if you're happy, if you're satisfied, if I'm doing something wrong, if you need or expect anything from me.
I guess I want what I used to have. Only this time, I want to have it with you.
I should hide your posts, unfriend or unfollow or block you, because your posts piss me off. Facebook isn't Twitter. You are young, you should know this. It is disgraceful, updating your status multiple times a day. No one cares what you did today.
You. You're not that pretty. It's the light. The make-up. The angle. In real life I look better than you. I wonder how many shots it took for you to get it right.
Why are you so lucky? You have everything handed to you. By your parents, by bosses, by strangers. But if you weren't
beautiful, I wonder if they still would.
You people. You are so happy taking advantage of everybody. Making fun because you are a large group. Schadenfreude. Cheating your rivals out of ideas via poser accounts. There is nothing they can do about it, you are untouchable over the internet. You know this won't last forever. I hope the real world eats you whole, but life isn't fair. It won't work out that way.
I scroll through my feed and think these things and I am appalled at the bitter poison going through my being. When did I turn into this?
A whole day in bed with you. What could be better? A lot of things, actually.
A whole day in bed without you, for instance.
Going out like we used to, when we were still just friends.
Eating when I want to.
Not eating when I want to.
Knowing what you want without having to play the guessing game, and inevitably guessing wrong.
But I guess even so, I would much rather spend the day with you, in bed or out. Because having you beside me, even with all the friction, is much better than not having you at all.
Having to deal with UTI is a pain in the you-know-where. What hurts more is that I know it's my own fault for enjoying too much fun between the sheets. I know I should have peed right after, but it was so comfortable, so cozy, so sweet to lie there next to him I couldn't make myself get up. And now I'm paying for it. I am paying for it with big time pain. Maybe I'm being punished for engaging in pre-marital sex. I doubt it. If anything, I'm being punished for being too lazy to pee.
Having no health insurance is fine until you get sick and feel the need to go to the doctor, but hesitate because it costs so much.
I know I'm earning higher that the average for my age. I know I'm not spending anything aside from the random splurges on food and monthly donations to the household. But I can't seem to justify spending a couple hundred to have someone tell me what I already know. But I need prescription medicine, and there's nothing I can do unless I'm willing to suffer through this infection and hope it doesn't get worse.
In a month, there will be an office outing, and they invited me to come. I said no.
In a month there will be a high school batch reunion, to which I'm not sure I want to go, because I'm not sure I would like who everyone will recede into after seeing everyone else.
In a month I'll be on the verge of quitting this job, if I get that teaching position that I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t I̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶a̶p̶p̶l̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ everybody wants for me.
In a month, anything could happen. Why does time suddenly fly so fast when you start working?
There was a wallful of sacks in the hallway when I got to work today. It was the monthly rice allowance for regular employees, and everyone was in line for their 100kg worth of rice. I wonder how they're taking that home.
I don't have to worry about that, of course. Being a contractual employee, I do not get to have allowances, health insurance, privileges. I do not mind particularly. I do not need rice, there is plenty enough at home. I do wonder about those who are like me though, who use their job to feed their whole family.
I watched them give honor after honor to other graduates and I think to myself, that could have been me. I could have had that pin for graduating with a scholarship, that medal for academic excellence,that sash for service. It a bitter taste fills my mouth as I remember that one slip has taken those things away from me. One wrong move, one failed subject, after years of excellence. One bad call, one wrong decision, one messy heartbreak was all it took to take my honors away. Regret waits until the end to bite, and it bites wicked hard.
Graduation Day. I look at the giddy faces of the other graduates, and I feel jealous of their happiness. I am the same as them, except that I'm mostly bitter. That I was a year late, that I was not academically excellent enough, that I would just be one of the faces in the crowd. Unrecognized. Unremembered. I wanted so much more for myself. I wanted so much more of myself.
I realize I was being ungrateful. But how can I not feel just a bit sad when my own parents did not feel my graduation was worth going to.
I hear you're coming back. I thought you've been lost to the corporate world, to the road to a successful career, to Japan. But you're coming back, not only back to this place, but back here where I can see you. I thought I was finally free of you, but I guess I'm not allowed to. Maybe life thinks you have something more to teach me. I pray not. You're lessons are always painful, with catastrophic results. At the same time, I pray so. Because you're the only one who could bring out the best and the worst in me.
I forgot to apply for that teaching position again. That leaves me about two more weeks to pass my requirements. I hope I can get them in in time. I hope I can get in.
I wonder why whenever I find myself trying to undertake the same task you are I find myself insecure, with that sick feeling that I'm going to fall short of you once again. If I were a better person I would take this as a challenge to prove that I am amazing, but as I am now I just want to curl up and die.
Waking up all cozy and warm, knowing there is absolutely nothing planned for today. Having your sleepy face be the first thing I see. You murmuring "Good morning" and then settling further into the blankets to cuddle just a little more. Getting up well into the morning to a roomful of friends.
It's the best feeling in the world. Not these things in particular, but getting to have all of it in one day. Getting to feel like a college kid again, free from your childhood and from the harsh realities of adulthood. It's the best feeling in the world.
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