AkImA No NiKkI

Ayyyy y'alls. See that title? Pretty self-explanatory, I'd say. *snort* Heck, y'all woulda agree with me, amirite or amirite.  'Course, best thing to be home is seeing your fam's faces (though I just literally saw them not a week ago, yet admittedly in less than favourable conditions) but next best thing bein' home is *cue drum roll* THE PRESENCE OF FOOD ANYWHERE, ANYTIME xDD That is, feels like the whole drama shitstorm is gone and everything's back to normal now. Well, maybe after my room is returned to its original state because I shit you not, it's stuffy as balls in here with the decorations still up and about. But hey, ain't like I'm staying home for long. In a blink, a week will just fly by, right? And yes, it's officially MY room now. Mine and mine alone. Awhoop whoop! xPP I suppose baby bro can bunk in when I'm not home, but Imma stamp MINE on the door soon as I get the chance. Hahahahahaha no joke *flawless murder

Recently, I keep wanting to run. Is that an age thing where people my age keeps thinking about? No idea. It's not about work stress, I know that much, because it's not work or college I want to run from. Today is my last day at college and I'm packing up to go 'home' for Gawai break for a week before finals. Maybe 'home' is where I'm running from. Emotional stress is straining. Perhaps I would've dealt better with it if I wasn't such a fucked up person with a fucked up personality but hey, beggars can't be choosers. Being a cutter, or at least, an ex-cutter in a rehab process I guess to put it better, has been my go-to stress relief for nearly 4 years. Of course, Amelia put a stop to that. I didn't cut as much in high school as I did in college, back then. It made me wonder, what was it that calmed me down from the temptation of my blades when the effects of PTSD at the time were at its highest? Then I realized, the one thing I didn&

Times always seem to me the font for a deep, revealing writing. More often than not, it reveals pain, hurt, suffering, agony, sadness, silent rage, and so on. So very little I use it on the opposite side. It appears to me like a quiet, deceiving silence. Demanding attention with near to none effort. Quite appropriate, in any case. It's been 5 days since I requested silence from Amelia and Irene. Since then, I was given such. There is comfort in that, however non-existent it feels, in their actions, or lack of it. Perhaps it could be a respite for all of us, them in their activities, and me in my thoughts. I dawdled and mucked about in the boundaries of my psyche.  Trying to reconcile the working gears to function with the changes. I am still angry, and very much hurt over her mistake. She may have apologized for it -probably, subconsciously, I couldn't have known it myself- and I may have forgiven her, but it does not do to slap a band-aid on a broken mirror. I couldn

I went to the library today after so long having denied entrance for the 10th fucking time. Apparently, you have to register your card to get in but the counter is inside and we had to puzzle over the fucking cycle for quite a while till the barrier was a little screwed yesterday and we got registered. Goddamn how hard it is to enter a fucking library, jeez. I needed to get some materials for my edu history paper (deadline on early June and I need to get that shit outta way cuz it's heavy loaded) only to find that while the library is fucking humongous, it ain't got any section for Education faculty. Like, wtf. God, I miss IN-TEC library. That place is heaven on earth. This campus opened in Feb and now it's May and none of the books have made it here yet.  Wtf have these ppl been doing good lordy loo. *sigh* Guess I'll just have to stick to online journals then. They're not as reliable as paper-books but they'll do, I suppose. The thing with us TESL-

Sooooooo false alarm! Amelia's still here. With me. With us. Wow, I have a hard time believing that, actually. Not in a bad way, that is. Yknow, like Tony have a hard time believing that he had a family that loves him as he is and not because of his money and fame which is The Avengers? Well, without the money and fame 'cause obviously I have neither. Which reminds me, I went watching Civil War yesterday with two of my classmates (I know, social life? Who is me and what has taken my place) and to my credit, I did not broke down and cry in the middle of the airing. I waited till the end. Ha By now, I don't even give a fuck about keeping up shields and stuff. My weird asshole ass is out and free and you are welcome to hop in the weirdness if it's to your liking.  If not, you can kindly walk away without a single sentiment at hand. Well, out and free about my fandoms and ships, at least. Privacy is still privacy. I have no idea why Stucky even exists. I can

I think she left. Amelia. I think I done and pushed her away. For real. Maybe the pictures were a mistake. I wasn't thinking straight. I thought we don't have secrets, so I didn't hold myself back. I relapsed. It wasn't bad, though. Actually, I count it as a win. There wasn't any blood. No sharp objects in sight. I just made creative use of a rubber band. Red lines and angry welts fade faster than skin-broken cuts, right? I feel tons better. The overwhelming emotions all died out.  Maybe she's not coming back. She won't. She said it herself. But I held my promise, didn't I? It wasn't even a close attempt. I had no place to speak this other than her. .....Was I wrong? After all, no one else would've cared. I wish I had pills for these kind of things.

Threw a fit of a tantrum today. One notebook (personal and private, not related to work) got destroyed in the making. My phone barely making it out safely while I was still incapacitated. I was angry. Still angry, actually. A long time ago, I would've just sighed at the notion and just despaired at making the best of what I had. I wouldn't be as much frustrated as disappointed. Wouldn't be as sad and righteously angry as satiric. How many times do I have to repeat myself? I am happy for her. I am abso-fucking-lutely ecstatic for her. What more do you want me to say? I support her. Will always do. It's her life and whatever decision she makes, I am 120% supportive of it. Only thing I ask is to give a single fucking thought about how it fucking breaks me that everybody is giving themselves a fucking free card to dictate shit in my life. Amelia reminds me that my actions have consequences. Don't you think I fucking know that? The issue is that THEY don&#

"Stay." "Don't leave me." "Promise me." All my life, people come and go, as they are wont to do. Even the ones I wanted to stay, in the end, never really did. These words are no stranger to my thoughts, my lips, my soul.  Yet I've never been the receiving end of it. Until Amelia. Somehow, it comes back to her. Like a circle of infinity. Sis and I, we are bonded by blood. Yet it is with she that I needed to keep a reminder of the necessity for a gap of a sort. The knowledge that regardless of how close or tight we are as siblings, we each have our separate paths to walk and I acquiesced to it. She has never needed me to stay, nor to acknowledge each other's psyche. I am the Sam to her Dean, and we all know how disastrous those two's relationship is. Unbearably strong, yes, but destructive in its own way. We are aware of each other's mind, yes, but we are reluctant to explore its depth. At least, that's how it seems to

I had another panic attack last night. Somewhere around 3.14 in the morning and the moment I fell asleep when the sun is high in the sky. I stopped putting reasons and logic to it by now, knowing that I'd only be repeating the same speech in my head like a broken record. Not like it helps anyway. I countered a passage, in a Sabriel fanfic, that I feel is beautiful. "It's not a fight. There's no winning or losing. It's an ocean. The tide comes in and the tide goes out. When it comes in, you just have to do a little swimming, that's all." It's a tide. How accurate. There were times when reasons and logic would've been my rock, I suppose. But reasons and logic don't explain shit about my mental crap. Don't do shit about why or when or how this kind of crap still happens to me -in me. Emotions have no logic. And I hate everything about them, both of them. It was a pleasant thought that I carry to bed. Thoughts of tinkling laughter and e