AkImA No NiKkI

  Nearing 30 isn't much change from when I was 20, unfortunately. Not as much as I had hoped. Mental illnesses don't go away with age, and my depression remains looming over my head. You live with your monsters, roommates in your brain for life, till death do you part. My autonomy is what changes, and thankfully for the better.  I used to love reading books, it gave me an escape from my own reality, a way for me to not become me. But in my late 20s, I grew afraid of reading, because of how much self-analysing I would inevitably do whenever I read something. I grew afraid of my own perception, that it would evoke too strong emotions that would make me feel as if I'm suffocating in them. I grew afraid of what my brain would conjure, and what it could bring out from inside me. I grew afraid of my own emotions, fearing that I don't have the capacity to sit with them. In a way, this is all a part of my own self-hatred. Hating what I am not, hating my own responses, hating my...

 It's 2025, and I'm 29 years old. Next year, I will be 30. A long time ago, I thought I would never reach 25. A long time ago, I sat through each night thinking it would be my last. A long time ago, I thought one of my attempts would be successful. I don't know how to live because this future wasn't in my plans. I didn't think I'd still be alive by now, so most of the things I'm doing are automatic.  But I'm happy, surprisingly. There are bad days and good days, obviously, and being a full time government worker, it's a monotonous routine each year. But the vacations I spend with my family and friends make up for it. And the times I spend alone are peaceful.

  Being home always brings a wave of nostalgia every single time I return. It goes the same with updating the blog too, sometimes. The one thing I always do when I come back to Kelantan is take out all of my notebooks, notepads, books, diaries, journals, and walk down the path of my past. The good, the bad, the horrific, the fun, and everything in between that entailed my time here as an existence.  Often times, whenever I go through a suicidal wave, I would wish to not be remembered. To wish my existence is simply erased and a person with my name was simply never born. Never grew. This wish came to be because I hope the people I left behind to not feel pain from my actions. It's selfish, sure, but sanity is never my closest companion. I know it doesn't make sense, and all I'm doing is wishing a band-aid would cover bullet holes. A wish is just a wish.  Particularly the only reason I hadn't manage to kill myself successfully despite the many attempts was because of the ...

 Last night, I had the most horrible dream. Recently, I've gotten the habit of sleeping on the couch, being the couch potato that I am. Most days, I'm too tired to carry my ass up to my bedroom and sleep properly on my bed. Days when I'd forget to do my night skincare and then regret it horribly the next day.  Same case happened last night. I took a shower, ate dinner on the couch with Natsume Yuujinchou on, and fell asleep. It tends to be cold downstairs in the living room at night, and I was wearing short shorts so my legs were freezing. I briefly remember pulling a blanket over my legs in my sleep haze. The details of my dream are hazy by now, but I can still feel the intense disgust and horror at the bottom of my throat. There was the air of something big happening, bustling noises of people moving. There was someone walking beside me, mumbling noises in the background. Everything in my eyesight was filled the golden color, as if we were walking in a ripe wheat field by...

  I thought the first thing I would've done after getting my own place to live would be getting a cat and slowly add up the numbers, but surprisingly, I was too caught up in the waves of changes in my growing life that caring for another living being became a thought too heavy for me to take up. The trains of my thoughts slowly became bigger until they turn into shapes and forms of their own that breathes into my living space, and commands my body.  Caring for another seems a bigger responsibility that I thought I couldn't hold. And as time goes on, I slowly forget how much joy cats can bring into my life, despite the troubles they also bring with them. After all, I grew up with cats around in my childhood. Mia (my little sister) has been begging me to keep a cat, now that she is also living with me (for now but we have been talking future plans where she returns to mom and dad as she studies for SPM) and I've been considering the thought for a while. I've asked the opi...

It was my birthday 2 days ago, my 28th. Another year and then I will cross that 30-middle age crisis. Hey, 17 year old me, did you think we'd ever make it this far? Pass my message to the 19 year old us. We've reached 28 now. The world is dying still, burning everything and everyone to the ground, slowly but surely. That one is still unchanging. The world burns every day, only the way it burns differently.  Are we still suicidal, depressed, and mentally ill? Yes. But at least we are still able to love and be loved in return. Another form of self-diagnosis has come up the past recent months, which is, hey hey hey I'm autistic. Voila. Not level 2 or level 3, obviously, since I'm quite capable of masking and my needs are low-support, but yes, it explains a number of things present in me. Mom always joked about me being autistic because I was so "quirky" and "anti-social" and "alien" as a child. Well, you can't beat a mother's hunch, I ...

 Here we go again, trying to heal through a variety of childhood traumas. Buckle the fuckle up, I guess. So, my childhood was sprinkled with violence as much as it was surrounded by love. That's what you get when your parents never went to therapy for their traumas and subconsciously fucking up their children as a consequence. The only reason I could find myself forgiving them for their parenting mistakes is because I know they never meant to, and they are aware of what their mistakes caused, and they are actively trying to fix and understand our pain. Not every parent is like them, I am well aware, and I also know that their mistakes are not everything they are to me. There is a huge difference between parents who consciously and knowingly hurt their children and parents who just made mistakes.  For all their mistakes caused my childhood to retain damages, they also tried their best to show me love in the ways they had never been shown by their own parents, and I appreciate t...

 warning for typos, since I'm typing with tears in my eyes and flowing down my cheeks. Grief is a weird emotion, one I have been trying to let myself feel at a pace I could have the capacity for. It's been slow, but I know it moves. Today was a day I felt I had a good capacity to let myself sit and feel the waves as they fill up through me. Maybe because I'm going through my period, so my hormones are unbalanced, but it had its pros and cons.  It's been 9 months since Tech passed.  I am still grieving, and I don't know how long I would still be. I don't think it matters. It definitely feels weird for me to be feeling so much grief over a Minecraft roleplayer's passing when I didn't feel anything when my grandparents passed. I had no doubt my family members would look at me with a stink eye for making that comparison, but matter of the fact is, I didn't have a lot of memorable memories with either of my grandparents.  Tech helped me survive many insom...

 There is a good ass reason why I only started healing after I left for college. And definitely not by fucking choice. The reason why I could allow myself to break, be reckless, be suicidal, be harmful to myself, and put myself through each and every layers of hell in college, was because I had the freedom to be. Because I had the freedom to finally fucking break like a fucking normal person, instead of repressing every single fucking thing and shoving them all inside a glass bottle and putting them up on the trauma shelf. Because if I had never chose to leave my home, my family, my hometown, I would never be granted the freedom to break. I would have been required to keep my shit together, to keep my façade intact, keep my fucking apathy wielded like a weapon to keep me alive. Because there were people who needed me to be stable, little ones who needed me to lie to myself so that I can protect them. There were people who needed me to be less selfish, less reckless, less suicidal. ...

 As many bad days begin, I feel like it has been a while since it has gotten to this level. I've begun writing again in my journal, here and there, whenever I feel like I have the capacity for it. Or if writing it out somewhere else didn't work. Though I am now on my way to being 27, it just shows you that your fucking mental illness doesn't go away with age. The only difference is, I am much more aware and better equipped to deal with them than I was before. And to be fair, bad days and worse days are often rare in-between nowadays, now that my life are in a pretty good condition. It goes to show that your condition DOES get better with a higher quality of life. Well, generally.  At least I'm glad it happened on a weekend so I don't have to deal with it on top of work. To be honest, it started since last night and continued on throughout the day even after I opened my eyes from a restless sleep. I know I should be letting myself feel my feelings and sitting with th...

  Honestly, it has been a long..LONG time since the last update. Mostly because Twitter has become my new "blog", so to speak, and writing long posts consumes too much of time and energy I no longer have these days. Now that I look back on my old posts about what I thought of Twitter (nothing good, tbh), it's ironic how it replaced this blog even though this place is basically a record of my ongoing life from when I was 13 years old. The cringy posts, the cringe UwU anime talk, the cringe everyfuckingthing, basically. But it was fascinating to re-read my progress of growing up. The way my mind matured, and consequently, my understanding of myself. I'm glad I kept up with this record, so now I can always have something to look at and remember. I'm an English highschool teacher now, for real and legit. Just like I always wanted to be. Sure my mental stability isn't quite there, and my MDD is still co-existing with everything else, but what matters is that I am s...

This feels more like an emergency update if anything else. I don't sleep at nights anymore, being an insomniac, only being able to fulfill my body's necessity after 8 a.m and beyond. Of course with the quarantine and my unemployment, it's not being a bother to my daily routine, but I imagine when it's over and I have a job, not being able to sleep at nights and having to wake up at an early morning and work all day and rinse and repeat will eventually fail my body and my health.  It's only not being a problem now but it will surely be a problem later. Anyway, I'm just here to spill out some thoughts, which I have religiously ignored in turn of various distractions. I should likely start from the beginning. Some time around a week ago, I believe (I can't tell because my time scope is honestly fucked up by now after half a year sitting at home), there was an issue with a famous figure being outed as a sexual predator and his victims stepping up to voice their ...

Anyway, returning back to my previous post, the two main emotions I aggressively and tightly monitor whether it be from my subconscious or conscious, are my temper and apathy. The former because I have an intense fear of watching myself fall into a state of regret from the experiences and the observations I have compiled from the people around me since I was a child. I learned the destructive power behind the emotions of anger, and the consequences it leaves behind. The cold, seeping despair of regret.  I watched them, compiled them, and vowed to myself to never become one of them. It's why I have tens and hundreds of ways to serve as a healthy outlet for my anger. So I will never mistakenly unleash an unfair abuse towards people I love, and the people who do not deserve them. I keep it in check, obsessively and religiously. At the very least, I try to, at the centre of my core.  I know I have made mistakes. I am aware I have made mistakes, and I will make mistakes in the futu...

It's day 19 of MCO according to WHO update site. It should end by April 14th but confirmation of extension to 17th will be made clear on 10th. I say "confirmation" because we are expecting it but there is still chance for the declaration to be untrue, so.  I feel for the people who do not have a hermit lifestyle, really, I do. This must be hell on earth for them. And I know the only reason I get to live my hermit lifestyle is because I'm privileged and I acknowledge that. I think the alone time lets people be more introspective towards themselves and the people in their life though, so, silver lining. It's always a good chance to learn something new about yourself and other people. Me, generally, this is my every Wednesday to Friday. Self-introspection, People-introspection, gaining awareness, visiting memory lanes, etc etc etc. They generally happen when I get into a fandom, or a fanfic, or a ship dynamic, or a family dynamic -basically about most things I ...

First actual update since 2020 started. Spoilers, it's shit. The world has gone apocalyptic, just like I always thought it would someday, and humanity is both fucked and blessed. For one, Earth gets a clean-up on parasites, which is nice. For two, exposure of how rotten humanity can go CAN surprise you no matter how bad you thought it would be.  And surprise, surprise, Twitter is bad for my mental health. Who else is not surprised?  I consider myself having a good grip on my anger considering I managed to realize the issue at a young age and subsequently, consciously, make an effort to curb it. But Twitter is making me re-evaluate that bar and by the end of this term, I either deactivate my accounts and never look at it ever again or I set a higher, stronger grip on my anger management.  Either way, shit is rolling whether I like it or not. Maybe it was cowardly that I would choose ignorance to the world to preserve my sanity, but I never proclaimed myself a knigh...

2019 was shit. But at least I lived through it (barely). Here's to living through 2020 as well.

Every year, I go to visit Amelia and Irene in Kedah and we have a sleepover. This tradition began when Foundation ended and we began our degree, because we didn't want our connection to end with Foundation. It has been going on for four years now, from the year I started my degree till the end.  A picture taken as we wait for our order in a Korean cafe during lunch hour (it was amazing how Mya and Irene manage to find places nary of people and we could eat and spend our time together in peace because God knows how stressful it would've been if the place was crowded with people and noisy as fuck)   Every year, it doesn't seem we change all that much, in terms of appearance. I still look as dumb and mediocre next to the two of them like I do in Foundation and they still accept my gremlin-looking ass next to them (hahaha). Generally, we don't keep in touch with each other all that much, other than sporadic events here and there. We're more of those kind of fri...

It's currently pre-christmas break, and we have two weeks of it until deadline for all things count. For some reason, it's a particularly bad day for me to be awake and not dead asleep to the world. I wish I was still asleep and the day would pass for a better one.  I know it's highly likely because of the unbalanced hormones that comes with PMS, yet that changes nothing to my current predicament.  Actually, I've noticed something different with this time's menstruation cycle.  Usually, my PMS lasts only for a week and then the blood comes, as naturally and smoothly without obstacles as ever (discounting the painful and uncomfortable cramps), but I have been suffering from this month's PMS for 2 weeks and the blood seems to have trouble flowing down. It's spurting out small doses of blood like a dying engine of Stiles' ancient Roscoe instead of the Niagara Falls of blood it usually becomes.   The small amount of blood that comes out isn't red ei...