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Last night, I had a hard time getting myself to sleep. It's the first in a week. Most other days, it would have been impossible not to be asleep. This time, for some reason, I was laying in bed with my eyes to the ceiling, wondering what my life was like before all this. I mean, as a kid I did mark my days by what happened. The biggest change from then to now is that I mark my days by the deadlines or by the exams or by the breakdowns. I knew I changed somehow but I wasn't entirely sure how. I wanted to look for a way to find how my younger self thought. Was I an entirely different person? Because if I was, I didn't entirely feel like it.
Today, I kind of broke my laptop. I've been on the phone with Apple Support for most of the morning, and I spent most of the day frantic about the files I hadn't backed up and all the papers I have due but can't work on. It's hell to break your laptop in the middle of hell month. But I couldn't do too much about it. So here I am on my high school laptop, still trying to calm my self down from all of that stress. Typing, and hopefully not just thinking, about how I could have changed in the past few years.
I've honestly totally forgotten about this. It's definitely interesting to look back on something I hadn't touched in a long time and seeing it so well-preserved. It's like looking at a time capsule and finding all the knick knacks 14-year-old me wanted someone else to see. I could only assume that I started this blog because I wanted to vent out somewhere. I was very much into hoarding notebooks back then, but then I couldn't quite write things on them for fear of my privacy. The more private things found their way on here. I think I made this blog to write more to someone else than for myself. I could only assume that younger me wanted to be heard out by someone.
I never read my own work, or at least not as long as I am attached to the thinking process from which the work came out of. And honestly, I haven't really written since the last time I published on here. Anhedonia got the best of me. I was scared the death to writing creatively and I think I still am. But that's besides the point.
Who am I now? I don't know. Haha. I still have yet to figure that out. Whenever answering that question to myself in private, I've always just scoffed and answered the same "I don't know." But I guess I'm still Y, like my younger self, and a bunch of other names I'm no longer connected to. Some way somehow, I've lost a connection with my past. I don't think I'm one to keep memories close. I don't think I'm one for sentimentality, as I did mention once. But I know I hated myself enough to not remember whoever I was.
I've re-branded into Ave and I think I love myself more. But that isn't to say that things were not rough.
I'm Ave and I think I love myself more. This 2017, I've turned 18-years-old, gained a few kilos, dyed my hair blue, and got into the junior year of college. I started living alone, and it was a struggle at first because I was lonely. But now I'm alone but rarely lonely. I've been seeing a psychiatrist since the start of the year. I've been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and I've started taking in anti-depressants. Not that this would have been much of a surprise. I've also apparently been having OC-like symptoms but things are going well.
I'm Ave and I think I love myself more. I have lots of friends with whom I feel comfortable with and with whom I feel secure with. Sometimes I think people hate me, and no one exactly has a reason to hate me. Or so I think. But it's mostly my head telling me that things aren't correct. And the people in my life have been really supportive of me and very very nice. I may have connected more with the real world and dug my own feet in the ground. I have found out that the "her" I once said was my love is a "he" who I've decided I did love and started dating.
I'm Ave and I think I love myself more. And I may have not been writing and writing has not since loved me, but things have been okay and that's all that they've needed to be.
Today, I kind of broke my laptop. I've been on the phone with Apple Support for most of the morning, and I spent most of the day frantic about the files I hadn't backed up and all the papers I have due but can't work on. It's hell to break your laptop in the middle of hell month. But I couldn't do too much about it. So here I am on my high school laptop, still trying to calm my self down from all of that stress. Typing, and hopefully not just thinking, about how I could have changed in the past few years.
I've honestly totally forgotten about this. It's definitely interesting to look back on something I hadn't touched in a long time and seeing it so well-preserved. It's like looking at a time capsule and finding all the knick knacks 14-year-old me wanted someone else to see. I could only assume that I started this blog because I wanted to vent out somewhere. I was very much into hoarding notebooks back then, but then I couldn't quite write things on them for fear of my privacy. The more private things found their way on here. I think I made this blog to write more to someone else than for myself. I could only assume that younger me wanted to be heard out by someone.
I never read my own work, or at least not as long as I am attached to the thinking process from which the work came out of. And honestly, I haven't really written since the last time I published on here. Anhedonia got the best of me. I was scared the death to writing creatively and I think I still am. But that's besides the point.
Who am I now? I don't know. Haha. I still have yet to figure that out. Whenever answering that question to myself in private, I've always just scoffed and answered the same "I don't know." But I guess I'm still Y, like my younger self, and a bunch of other names I'm no longer connected to. Some way somehow, I've lost a connection with my past. I don't think I'm one to keep memories close. I don't think I'm one for sentimentality, as I did mention once. But I know I hated myself enough to not remember whoever I was.
I've re-branded into Ave and I think I love myself more. But that isn't to say that things were not rough.
I'm Ave and I think I love myself more. This 2017, I've turned 18-years-old, gained a few kilos, dyed my hair blue, and got into the junior year of college. I started living alone, and it was a struggle at first because I was lonely. But now I'm alone but rarely lonely. I've been seeing a psychiatrist since the start of the year. I've been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and I've started taking in anti-depressants. Not that this would have been much of a surprise. I've also apparently been having OC-like symptoms but things are going well.
I'm Ave and I think I love myself more. I have lots of friends with whom I feel comfortable with and with whom I feel secure with. Sometimes I think people hate me, and no one exactly has a reason to hate me. Or so I think. But it's mostly my head telling me that things aren't correct. And the people in my life have been really supportive of me and very very nice. I may have connected more with the real world and dug my own feet in the ground. I have found out that the "her" I once said was my love is a "he" who I've decided I did love and started dating.
I'm Ave and I think I love myself more. And I may have not been writing and writing has not since loved me, but things have been okay and that's all that they've needed to be.