Untitled.

I found a place to hide away beneath the the busy flow
Of people rushing here and there, a place for me to grow.
To grow into my ill-fit mind, too big for me to comprehend
The reasons for me being here, to stay until the end.
This place began to draw me in, a bottomless black hole
Where logic was a weapon and delusion was the goal.
Governed by irrational, this place, it trapped me so
Having survived an almost fatal fall, I could not stay nor go.
When I emerged from years of black, my vision was impaired,
I had not seen the light in years but no one really cared.
Still I cannot see things straight, I see the world a different way
I analyse and criticise every minute, every day.
But past these dark black cataracts, one day, perhaps I'll see
The beauty of the natural world and a peaceful melody
Of songs soothing as bath salts, a tune to calm the soul.
To undo all this pain and hurt, so again I can be whole.

Invictus

(Just another ideal)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

~ William Ernest Henley

Anger and hatred

I hate you. Sometimes I just fucking hate you. You have no idea how much your words hurt other people; you just throw them away without anticipating repercussions. Language cannot express the anger that I feel towards you at times. Sometimes I think you have ruined my life… Sometimes I think this is all your fault. Fuck you. Seriously fuck you. For being a bitch. For using and exploiting everyone. For always thinking about yourself. For always hurting other people. For not knowing how or when to listen. For not seeing. For always arguing. For thinking you're always right. For refusing to accept that sometimes, you're actually wrong. Fuck you. Every time I think about how hurt I have been for so long, how much I detest myself and have spat upon the person that I am, it is because of you. Younger, smaller, always inferior. I was only a child, and you were a bully when I needed a friend. I lost two strong feet to stand on years ago. You stole my voice, and now my cries are all but internal. I hate to think back to everything I could have been. You ruined me, but you have no idea - and in a way I'm glad of that, because strangely enough, I love you too.

The Pygmalion effect

The Pygmalion effect, or Rosenthal effect, refers to the phenomenon in which the greater the expectation placed upon people, often children or students and employees, the better they perform. The effect is named after Pygmalion, a Cypriot sculptor in a narrative by Ovid in Greek mythology, who fell in love with a female statue he had carved out of ivory.

The Pygmalion effect is a form of self-fulfilling prophecy, and, in this respect, people with poor expectations internalize their negative label, and those with positive labels succeed accordingly. Within sociology, the effect is often cited with regards to education and social class.
Wikipedia (2010)

Perhaps Rosenthal never had experience being that person burdened with expectation. Perhaps the authors assumed this theory could be generalised to every of personality type. Perhaps I have internalised the negative label I placed on myself many years ago to such an extent that no positive external label could ever permeate my now heavy-laden mind...

I saw my life...

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
~The Bell Jar

God, but life is loneliness...

"God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering." ~ Sylvia Plath

I Lost A World

I Lost a World

I lost a world the other day.

Has anybody found?

You'll know it by the row of stars

Around its forehead bound.

A rich man might not notice it;

Yet to my frugal eye

Of more esteem than ducats.

Oh find it, Sir, for me!

~Emily Dickinson

Who in the world am I?

'Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle!'
~ Alice in Wonderland

I just want to be something.
Someone.
Devoid of character.
I am not "cool" or "individual"
I am not unique.
I do not stand out.
In complete honesty, I hate myself.
A cliche.
I wish I was born with a personality.
Who am I?

What the eye can't see.

The thing about sickness is that it is internal.
Whether it is in the body or in the mind
The pain
The discomfort
The mutation
Is all within, hidden away from the naked eye.
People battle disease and illness every day
And many of them go by without us knowing it.
The bodies of some people try to overcome infection
Of the blood, heart, stomach, liver, lungs..
An infection of the mind hardly seems significant to compare.

Just because you don't see the pain,
Witness the discomfort
Or understand this mutation
Doesn't mean that it doesn't exist.
It only doesn't exist to you.
But it is real.
Real and hidden.
And the only way these things ever seem to become
Externalised is when it is all simply
Too late.

Paranoia

You want me to fail,
And I can see it.
Feel it.
You point out my flaws and insecurities,
And you make me feel
Small.
Why do I feel like those closest to me are against me?
Exploiting, manipulating and obstructing me?
I feel sabotage from every direction.
But is it really you? Or me?
My worries are amplified by you.
By me.
Is it real?
I point out my flaws and insecurities.
And I make myself feel
Small.
Why do I feel like those closest to me are against me?
Exploiting me? Manipulating me?
Am I seeing this clearly?
Is my mind playing tricks on me?

Selfless vs. Selfish

I guess when you look at yourself and try to evaluate the good in your actions, it is necessary to first ask yourself what you define as a good person. As with most things in life, to me there seem to be two conflicting values: our devotion to others, and our devotion to ourselves. In its simplest form, life is not much more complex than a balance between selfless and self-concerned motives.

The reason I ask this is because in a stupid pursuit for perfection, my goal was always to do things to please other people. To reach and achieve other people's expectations of me, to continually do what people demanded of me and to put everyone else's needs before my own. And admirably, this made other people happy; but for me, there was a large price to pay. Enormous strain under mountains of stress, sacrifice of my own relaxation time and an incredible feeling of unmet personal needs. People cannot live a superficial life that only appeases other people without addressing their own basic necessities.

So in search of a balance between the concepts of the other and the self, I began to assert my personal needs and I guess only now am I really beginning to say "no" - an important lesson when you're about to enter the real world. But it's not that easy, simply because I think after a while, people simply become accustomed to taking advantage of you. And I already feel that a number of my personal relationships have involved people placing unrealistic demands on my time, where the time physically exists, but in a spiritually balanced lifestyle, it doesn't. Because despite there being 24 hours in a day, I believe a number of those need to be spent in some sort of personal reflection, relaxation or, more simply, "alone time". I have spent 18 years feeling like I am constantly "on" every minute of the day with things crammed in left, right and centre - why is it so hard to understand that sometimes I want to take a time-out and breathe? I just think some people don't get it... They demand and demand and demand to the point where you feel guilty that you are not spending time with them or not fulfilling their needs, and because it has always been the norm, your needs are suddenly blown away with a small gust of wind, floating away into nothingness just as before...

So I question you, where lies the perfect balance between selfishness and selflessness? Self-sacrifice is admirable, but not even marginally healthy if perpetually performed. But at what point does thinking about your own needs become selfishness? When should you feel rightly guilty for putting yourself first? I am incredibly admirable of compassion and selfless love and value these traits highly, but where is the balance between caring for others and caring for yourself? Perhaps one must also consider for whom one sacrifices themself, and asking whether that person would do the same for you? I don't know...

Duodeviginti

I decided I would not write if I had nothing worth writing about. This, I believe, is worthy of note.

In the past week a number of things have not turned out as I would have planned or hoped, and I've had to find a way to accept them. Today, a piece of news that made me feel rage in every living cell in my body and simply rubbed salt in an already throbbing wound, led not only to a number of tears, but also a number of revelations. For I have learnt that it is most often from our pains, letdowns and disappointments that wisdom is born. I have learnt two very important lessons which I believe are valuable to note. Maybe I took a while to learn them, but now that I know them, it would be nothing less than insanity to make the same make twice.

1. Don't ever do something for praise, recognition or external reward. You must appreciate the intrinsic value you get from things, not the extrinsic reward. Don't do something with two eyes fixated on whatever it is that lies at the end of the tunnel. Live in the moment and do things that you enjoy. In everything you do, enjoy the friends you make, the cakes that you bake, enjoy the sport and music you play or the words that you say. Don't enjoy something when it is finished, but when you are doing it. And for goodness sakes, don't forego enjoyment for external reward, because some of the time, it just doesn't happen. I have spent so long breaking my back, almost killing myself to please other people and to create an image of perfection around myself. It only so happened that when the cherry on top didn't arrive, I learnt one of my most valuable life lessons. Only do things because you enjoy them, because life is too precious to be wasted on living the life of what everyone else wants you to be, not who you want to be. I do not regret for a minute the friends I have made along the way because of my tendency to overwhelm myself with cocurricular activities - Rach, Eliza, Kat, Nick, Matt, Sean, Steve, Julia, Lori, Rhia, James, Alexius, Nick, Alex, James, Adele, Sarah, Emma, Chloe, Bronte, Steph, Miranda, Molly, Airley, Amy, Jess, Fi, Ruby, Ally, Terri, Amy, Kate, Tutai, Dan R, Loz... I guess the list goes on. I do not regret the help, the joy or the laughter that I gave other people and that they gave me. And the reward I have felt in these aspects makes it okay, because for these reasons, I can know that this time was not even close to being completely wasted. Just do not be foolish enough to let your anticipation of extrinsic rewards outweigh the gain of intrinsic ones.

2. There are two types of people in life: those that screw everyone else over to get everything they want, and those who get screwed over by doing the right thing. I recount countless examples of this. People who blame other people only so that they can further their own position in life. People who shift responsibility to make themselves feel better. People who bully others into getting their own way. I think these people are exactly the reason someone invented the saying "Life isn't always fair." Because despite what we want to believe, karma doesn't always work out. These people will become successful and will climb above others in jobs, school and recognition and, in the meantime, the little guy gets left behind. But maybe we then have to consider how we choose to define success. Maybe not success that is limited to a job or career, but perhaps success in life. Because these people lose things. People see who they are and see what they do, and people don't like them. They may be manipulative bastards, so for goodness sakes, do not let them manipulate you. They may win in the workplace, but they lose out in relationships, in friendships and in love - and in the end, the only relationships that they have left are with people who are just as superficial and selfish as they are.

Be happy knowing that people see you just as you are. If you're going to fuck everyone over to get to the top, people won't be stupid enough to fall for your deceptive looks, at least not forever. And if you just pass by, trying to do good by others and potentially missing out on a world of recognition at the same time, people are watching you too. The right people. The people that admire you for everything you do - for every attempt, for every effort, for every responsibility, for every selfless act and for every kind word. Friends. Don't get sucked into the trap of screwing everyone else over just because it works, because in the end, you will lose out in what is really important.

Fini - A personal reminder.

Blogging draws me further into myself, not life.
Work ethic is about activity, not intentions.
Emotion should be expressed to people, not a computer.
And the world exists in three dimensions, not two.

Admirable as a blog can be, this one is not.
I am absorbed in myself and in my mind rather than engaging in my surroundings or bringing up useful food for thought.
My mind is plagued by infection and dwelling in my thoughts only lets this disease mutate further.
This is life.
I want to work hard, I want to do things - for school, that I enjoy, with family, with friends.

Just do it.
Life is too short to be wasted on things like Facebook and a blog that makes you feel crap.
Get things done. Do things.
Be engaged in life.
Where the thought or mood cannot motivate the action, let the action govern the mood.
Just do it, damnit.
For goodness sakes, let there be hope.
Create it.

25th Hour

YEAH, FUCK YOU, TOO. Fuck me? Fuck YOU, FUCK YOU and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car - get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. Twenty to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats, trying to audition for "The Sopranos." Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermès scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck J.C.! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J.! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, al-Qaeda, and backward-ass cave-dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky. Whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, and cheering the Bronx Bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park Slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place... ~ Monty Brogan, 25th Hour

The Swallow

Unencumbered swallow, flying swiftly high above
The trees and the oceans - riding the wind.
Forever free, you have escaped the clutches of man
And struggle to survive the entrapment of our world.
Flying from place to place, always searching for your perfect home,
Chasing an ideal.
Travelling high, low, far and wide,
You fly,
You search,
And you find the spring that you are looking for.
You spread your wings and as you soar, through heavens light, the wind sings
Deror in your passing.
You are uplifted. Liberated.
Free.
But what would you do, dear swallow,
If you never learnt to fly?

18.

i have never had a close friend or relative die. i have never been abused or assaulted. i have never watched anything traumatising unfold. i have never been bullied. i do not come from a broken home. i have practically been wrapped in bubble wrap my entire fucking life. so what is my problem? why does it hurt so much? why can't i cope with any of this?

what's my fucking excuse?

i cannot help despising myself for my weakness. you who know the worst of life must resent me. i thought growing older was supposed to yield some sort of self-understanding and -acceptance, yet i am almost 18 and i cannot help but feel that there is just no hope left. the world becomes bigger, you become smaller and your soul becomes weaker, until it is finally crushed into oblivion by the perpetually unbearable weight of simply being alive.

Lost hope.

I want to rage. To hit someone, to hurt someone. I want to cry. To fall apart into a million pieces never to be put back together. I want to punch myself in the brain, to beat myself repeatedly. I want to break anything I hold. I want to release, to exhale after each breath and to relax every tensing muscle. I want to be free. I want to be able to sustain any given emotion for more than a few minutes. I don't want to think anymore, to analyse anymore. I cannot handle consciousness. I want internal to be external. Incessant thought, incessant processing and incessant rationalisation every second of the day is killing me. I am lost. My identity is in ruins. I don't know who I am, and anything I do know I detest. I don't want to be who I am, yet I do not even know what that is. I want to look in the mirror and be able to tell myself that I am okay. I want to open my mouth and believe that the words coming out are worth hearing. To say things to people not only so they listen, but so they care. To inspire. I want to stop caring what other people think, yet this seems to contradict the image I have built of myself. Have I ever done something not to please someone else? I simultaneously desire and detest perfection. Why do I have to care about everything. To analyse everything. To solve everything and feel responsible every damn second of my life. Could I not have been made blind to the issues the world faces? Why must I feel that every problem - big or small - was and is somehow my responsibility to resolve? And why did I ever try to believe I could change anything? The world is a shithole, but what are we going to do about it. I am small, and while I want to believe in myself and in change, I feel powerless. Powerless over myself and over others. I do not believe in myself because I do not like, admire or know who I am. All I know is that I am not who I want to be. In truth and sincerity, I cannot help but think, there is no hope.

Septendecim

Although part of me likes to believe that humanistic psychology is the load of bullshit that everyone says it is, the past week has seen me experience first-hand Maslow's theoretical concept of the Heirarchy of Needs. A sudden contraction of some ghastly virus combined with a depleted immune system saw my health take a turn for the worse. Overcome by a sore throat, running nose and hacking cough, my priority was not schoolwork, relationships or asking big questions, but rather, getting better again. With my most basic surival needs not being met, everything else was omitted from the picture. Although being run-down and feeling terrible, things were, in a way, good. When we are stripped down to our very core necessities, there need be no other preoccupations. After all, who would worry about the meaning of life when they are busy trying to keep themselves well?

Still on a trail of recovery, it's not like I'm particularly happy or sad, but at the moment, this isn't the biggest priority. Happiness, sadness, meaning, solving global problems - that isn't the focus. The focus is the basics. And how much more content are we all when we strip things back down to simplicity. Although it is important not to perpetually see it as a burden, as we grow up things not only become more interesting, but also more complicated and difficult. Lying on the couch watching movies for two days reminded me of being sick in primary school, staying home and doing exactly the same thing. Nostalgia. But wasn't it nice to just visit those days where no one had a care in the world?

So it made me think. Maybe sometimes we just need to strip things back. Perhaps an overindulgence in the meaning of life and one's place in the world isn't can be not only a virtue, but an impairment. Who would have thought that consciousness could in fact be the danger; that perhaps sickness is the cure and that the disease is really in being fully conscious. Of the world, of yourself, and the insignificance of the role you play. We strive for self-actualisation and for understanding, but who said that being so trapped in consciousness was a good thing?

Me.

I should have stopped comparing myself to others years ago.

I cannot write. Think.

Plain. Uninteresting. The epitome of boring.

But that's me.

I cannot be what I am not.

Compassion: n. More vigorous than empathy, the feeling commonly gives rise to an active desire to alleviate another's suffering.

To varying degrees, every day of my life is a struggle. In line with Buddhist belief, life is suffering. Whether it is sitting at the forefront of my brain, or is buried beneath a mountain of other preoccupations, the question "What am I doing here?" never ceases to challenge me. Over many years of trying to answer this question, I have expanded my knowledge on life, on people, and also on Buddhist beliefs. A recurring theme in my quest for meaning in my life is that of compassion; surely our lives have significance that stretches beyond ourselves. To genuinely care about others, to do well by others, but most importantly, to have a true desire to relieve others of pain and suffering; to me, this is the essence of our lives. Sometimes it takes a bit of reminding to look past ourselves, but in my opinion, the more we can do this, the more meaning our own lives hold.

The superfluous use of this word in our day to day life has meant that its power and true meaning has gradually been diluted, so here I present to you, some of the Dalai Lama's views on compassion:

"Compassion can be roughly defined in terms of a state of mind that is non-violent, non-harming and non-aggressive. It is a mental attitude based on the wish for others to be free of their suffering and is associated with a sense of commitment, responsibility and respect towards the other"

"Genuine compassion is based on the rationale that all human beings have an innate desire to be happy and overcome suffering"

"In one sense one could define compassion as the feeling of unbearableness at the sight of other people's suffering, other sentient beings' suffering.

"In generating compassion, when you are taking on another's suffering, you may also initially experience a certain degree of discomfort, a sense of uncomfortableness or unbearableness. But in the case of compassion, the feeling is much different; underlying the uncomfortable feeling is a very high level of alertness and determination because you are voluntarily and deliberately accepting another's suffering for a higher purpose. There is a feeling of connectedness and commitment, a willingness to reach out to others, a feeling of freshness rather than dullness"

Beautiful: adj. pleasing to the eye or mind especially through beauty or charm.

Did you ever just want to be beautiful? For just one night, one hour, or even one minute, to be absolutely gorgeous and feel like you looked a million dollars? I did. For just one night, I wanted to be beautiful. Of course beauty isn't solely about aesthetics - I am a true believer in the saying 'Beauty isn't skin deep' and genuinely think that personality has a significant influence on one's attractiveness. The only problem right now is that I feel I possess neither - I could not detest myself more: my selfishness, laziness, self-centredness, stupidity, superficiality, lack of consideration, lack of courage, negativity, self-pity, conformity, weakness and finally for being so effing judgemental. And I'm sure I've missed something. In short, neither personality nor looks is on my side.

So for one night I just wanted to be beautiful. Perhaps not even for other people to perceive so, but for myself to. I wanted to be able to love myself for one stupid little night. To look back at photos and say, 'Look, you are beautiful'.

Just. One. Night.

Was this too much to ask?

Apparently so.

Untitled

All I want more than anything right now is to just say everything. I think perhaps I feel like this will relieve the pain, but at the same time I am not foolish enough to believe that it really will. I just want someone to know everything, but I don't even know if I can express it. I guess this is just a brief synopsis. I wish someone could see or understand how much it really hurts inside. How much I am really struggling under a mountain of stress and expectation. How lost I feel in a huge maze of confusion. I wish someone could spend just a moment inside my mind to see what I truly think of myself, of the world, and of life. How pointless it all seems, how worthless I feel and how hopeless I feel for the future. My body feels like lead and any action, physical or mental, feels like a drain of energy I just don't have. I wish someone could see that this is nothing new... that this has been over 4 years of feeling like this, on and off, and I just want it to stop. I wish someone knew how alone I feel even in the company of friends, and how much I fear being alone because I don't want to be trapped with my thoughts. I wish there wasn't such a gap between the exhiliration of company and the loneliness of being by myself. I wish I could be happy with who and what I am, instead of resenting everything I have become. I wish I could live up to the ideals that I preach so adamently - but instead I live in the past and the future, never the present, and let life just pass me by. I am scared that one day I will look back and wonder what I did with my life, because I know this is inevitable. I wish I felt I had control over these stupid things. I wish I could stop wishing and start living. I want everyone to be able to see the pain, yet at the same time I spend most of my energy concealing it from others - it is only as I begin to feel more sick and tired that it has begun to creep into others' attention because I can no longer hide it. I hate myself for that too. I wish you could see how much I fear the future. I wish you could see how much I resent myself for being exactly who I am, or perhaps for being exactly who I am not. I wish someone could see just how much I don't fucking care anymore - that I have lost every piece of achievement that I once had and every inch of success that I once was. That there is no longer any remnant of motivation left in me. I wish you could see the tears that well in my eyes when I realise I have to get up and face another day. I wish the internal pain was external - that someone could see the way my insides are worn away beyond repair. I wish someone knew just how much I no longer want to be here, and how often and realistically I ponder this reality. I wish I believed I wasn't beyond saving, but I am ready to give up. I think the fear of continuing to live is greater than that of dying; it simply seems to be a decision of the better of two evils. But I have uttered these words to myself so many times that it is just an empty threat, perhaps that is also what scares me.. even after this, life will go on, unchanged. It always has. After all, now everyone can see... why does it still hurt so much?

Sedecim

Someone once told me that self-esteem can be likened to a cup. There are moments in our lives where people say things that make us feel appreciated, loved, worthy and brilliant - filling our cup right up to the brim until we are almost overflowing with positive self-regard and self-love. On the other hand, sometimes there are times when people suck out our cup's contents with derogatory remarks or unkind comments that make us feel worthless. However, despite these ebs and flows, the cup maintains a sort of dynamic equilibrium, whereby the level may drop or rise occasionally, but generally returns to a constant point - a default level of self-esteem.

The analogy continues.

The danger is when there is a hole in the cup. When this happens, that default level of self-esteem is destroyed as the contents of the cup are continually lost to the environment. The only way for this person to sustain any level of self-acceptance is to have a constant flow entering their cup to compensate its rapidly diminishing contents. But people don't tell you you're brilliant all the time, because they assume that you already know that. People don't repeatedly tell you that you're fantastic, because it isn't deemed necessary - because you shouldn't need to be perpetually told.

People cannot see and do not understand why you fail to sustain that state of equilibrium - that default level of self-esteem.

The key to changing this is to fill up that hole: take those pieces of meaning that you have found here or there, and plug it up; collect the evidence that you are okay and place them in that hole; reflect on what you are worth and realise that you are someone special. The only problem is, this is much easier said than done; you are in control, only it rarely ever feels like that.

Oh precious time, where did you go?

Oh precious time, where did you go?
I do not know.
The hands no longer tick so slow.
Arrested, life has lost its flow.

Oppressed beneath this heavy snow
Lie dreams and hopes that will not grow.
Frozen, stunted years ago.
They'll never rise, they'll never show.

A light of hope ceases to glow.

Searching, waiting.
High and low.
To and fro.
Head to toe.

The crying crow, the destined woe, the fatal blow.
I ask myself: How long to go?
To tell the truth, I do not know.

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Let it go. Let it out...

Untitled

I never planned to be alone.

I don't think anyone ever plans to be alone.

In the end, it's one of those things

That just...

Happen.

Quindecim

Out of control. To gain control. Controllability. In control. Lose control. Control oneself. Birth control. Control panel. To have control over. Locus of control. To take control. Control group. Remote control. Control freak.

Do you ever feel overwhelmed by an inability to control what is happening around you? The things that occur in your life, your environment, and even your own mind, all seem to become externally determined by forces you have no control over. In life, there are things in life that we can control, and there are things that we cannot. What is important, is that we utilise the things that we do have control over to help ourselves deal with the things over which we hold little power. I am told time and time again that we are in control of ourselves - our actions, our thoughts and our feelings, and these factors are all interelated. However I feel that it is one thing to say we always have control, but it is an entirely different thing to truly believe it or feel empowered by this ability.

What happens when we feel we can't control what is happening? We panic, we become frightened and above all, we feel utterly powerless. For me, the tears well up in my eyes, a lump is formed at the back of my throat and I want nothing more than to simply give up. When we are coping, we believe in our ability to handle a situation, confident that our actions will elicit a positive outcome. When we are hopeless, we lead ourselves to believe that any action we take will have a negative consequence. But when we are helpless, this is the biggest danger of all; when we are helpless, we feel that no matter how hard we try or how longingly we wish, our actions have no affect on our circumstances.

When we talk about control, planning and the future, people can be broken down into two categories - people who focus on the details, and those who focus on the big picture. Where people take an overall view, they concentrate on what they want as the end result and are good at planning and deciding how they want things to turn out, but often fail to see the small details along the way. When these people are struck by unexpected changes, their idealistic plans become tainted, damaged or destroyed.

When we live too far ahead in the future and decide how things should be, the implications are that, if things do not turn out the way we hoped or planned, we become bitterly disappointed, feeling like something has been taken away from us, despite the fact that we never possessed it in the first place. When we talk about things we can control, the fundamentals are ourselves and the present moment. Once we take control of these things, then we can begin to shape the world around us.

Insignificant: adj. Having little or no meaning. (Oct. 07)

Is it right that someone should feel so insignificant?
A grain of sand on the beach,
A drop of water in the ocean,
A star in the night sky.
One of many, not noticed by the onlooker
Only singled out for its weaknesses
But never its strengths.
Just waiting for someone to notice it.
Appreciate it.
A dull star in the night sky is never noticed when compared to the luminescent moon,
Why should I go on when I am the smallest star among so many?

My dear Leunig...

I cannot think of many things worse than having the most amazing friends in the world, yet still feeling alone.

The Little Things...

Inspired by Frank's latest note...

"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." A work in progress.

Once when I was talking with someone about my unsuccessful and frustrating search for meaning, they told me that perhaps I was looking for something too big. Maybe meaning comes from lots of little things, rather than one, big, profound discovery.

one Going for runs while listening to music.
two Sitting on the front porch at night time breathing in the air.
three Playing piano and singing along.
four Sitting in the sun listening to music.
five Taking the dog for a walk down to the park.
six Snuggling up on the coach watching soppy romance movies.
seven Doing homework on a cold day, drinking a hot cup of Green Tea.
eight The sound of rain on my skylight at nighttime.
nine When the moon is perfectly above my skylight and it shines onto my bed at night.
ten Bright city lights on a dark night.
eleven Inspirational quotes.
twelve Being able to rejoice in other people's happiness.
thirteen Eating pizza at school on weekends with the best of friends.
fourteen Ice cream, cookies and creme brulee chocolate - all mixed in one.
fifteen The wind.
sixteen When your iPod plays your favourite song on shuffle.
seventeen A beautiful view - city lights, nature, anything..
eighteen Laughing until your stomach muscles hurt.
nineteen Waking up and realising it's the weekend.
twenty Watching / listening to amazing pianists play piano.
twenty-one Running in the rain.
twenty-two A tidy bedroom.
twenty-three Singing in the shower.
twenty-four Making other people smile.
twenty-five Ticking off something on your to-do list.
twenty-six Staying up all night talking.
twenty-seven Picnics.
twenty-eight Playing a good game of netball.
twenty-nine Dancing to music in shop changerooms.
thirty Sleepovers
thirty-one In Titanic, whenever "My Heart Will Go On" starts playing..
thirty-two Going to bed and falling asleep straight away.
thirty-three The sound the computer makes when you pull out a USB

Quattuordecim

I once knew someone who, when asked what their biggest motivation was, replied that it came from having people not believe in them - in short, to be told that they couldn't do something. After all, what greater incentive is there than to prove someone wrong? I think as humans - often stubborn and self-righteous creatures, as I know I am - we derive some sort of pleasure in knowing that we are right, proving other people wrong, and more than anything, achieving what was once believed to be impossible. I think breaking boundaries has to be one of the most fundamental bases of advancement and breakthroughs; being innovative and courageous enough to not just test limits, but step outside and beyond them. These limits are set for us by other people when they tell us that we are not capable of things, yet for the greatest people I have met in my life so far, these only set a benchmark which must be achieved and surpassed.

I personally recall two exemplary examples of this:

Dan Ryan dreamed to become one of the best male netballers that the game has ever seen. Despite making his first Victorian team around the age of 14, he was told that he was too short and would never make a national team as a goaler. With a desire to follow a dream and prove the selectors wrong, this netballer went on to captain Australia, never once being played outside the position of goal attack, all the time thinking "Don't tell me what i cant do, let me show you what i can do".

Rufus Black dreamed to study at Oxford University, only to be told in Year 9 that his dyslexia was so bad that he wouldn't even pass his final Year 12 exams. A little over a decade later the only criticism in the Oxford University examiners report on his doctorate was “that there were a few more spellings mistakes than usual”. What did he say? "Don’t let anyone ever tell you you can’t".

These stories provide me with inspiration beyond belief, but as I have considered my own life, I find myself, for the majority of the time, at the opposite end of the spectrum. Highly able, loaded with potential, and burdened with a superfluity of expectation. Whereas these individuals found themselves confronted by external lack of belief, I find myself straining under and overwhelming forcefield of pressure from every direction. Even if no-one says anything, I can feel it. Even if no-one thinks anything, I do. There is no escaping - it is outside me and within me. I have a wealth of people that believe in me, but I am beginning to think that perhaps that is more detrimental than having no one believe in you at all. If there is no belief, all you can do is exceed expectations. If people expect greatness from you, surely you are destined to fall short...

A reflection of myself or society? (Feb. 09)

I look in the mirror

And don’t recognise the person staring back at me
At least I don’t want to.

I can’t tell
What is real
And what is not.
My eyes work

But my mind doesn’t

The image changes
From minute to minute

Day to day

Week to week

One day is fat

And one day is skinny

Yet there is no physical difference
Between these two figures

Just in my mind

I can’t see myself
I don’t know myself
My mind is the obstacle

I will never be skinny,

Happy.

Beginning to live...

As quickly as it began, it now draws itself to a close. Two followers, 23 posts and a single month later, I have come to the realisation that to "suck the marrow out of life" means living it and engaging in the world, rather than mere rhetoric about the ebbs and flows of life. How can one seize the day while typing into a computer, onto a blog that nobody reads? Without trying to sound excessively ignorant, I am simply too young to be wasting these precious times pondering questions beyond my years. Perhaps in time I will be back, but for now, I cannot live whilst being stuck inside my own head with my own thoughts. I should be out interacting with the world, enjoying the company of friends and family, learning the lessons of life and discovering who I am and what my place is in the world.

Thank you for reading - maybe I will be back one day, but as long as I am not writing, I plan to be actively living in the real world rather than passively succumbing to the luring trap of a blog spot.

"They're not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you, their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because, you see gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in. Listen, you hear it? - - Carpe - - hear it? - - Carpe, carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary."
John Keating, Dead Poets Society

Tredecim

Did you ever blame people for not hearing your inaudible cries?
For not seeing your invisible signs?
For not grabbing onto a hand you didn't reach out?
I did.
I still do.
Just because you couldn't hear, see or hold me
Did you ever consider, that perhaps
You simply weren't standing close enough?

The real danger...

The real danger that comes from loneliness is your mind being left alone, your thoughts crystallize. You can draw yourself farther and farther down the rabbit hole, strange thoughts appear and can soon become the norm. This can be good in a way, you can find out what you believe and think without the influence of “society”, you can start to question basic assumptions about how people operate. You can, if you observe others, learn a lot. However... your mind tends to grow darker. As socially evolved animals we crave some sort of social stimulation, though the amount differs between individuals.

...Perhaps there’s such a thing as too much socialization, too much mask wearing because after all with the majority of people we have to wear some sort of mask. Sure it can be extremely thin at times but its still there, weighing on the soul like a lead elephant.

SJ Smith

How would you react if someone told you...

"Embrace the complete void between illusion and reality"

"Accept that life isnt all that is promised"

"Yes life sucks, but it sucks less when you stop comparing it to fiction"

Duodecim

Among so many different philosophies, I think somewhere in the middle of these blurred and uncertain ideals, the meaning of our lives is centred around making a difference. We speak of having fun and seizing the day, no doubt admirable and essential values... but in the bigger picture, what is the point of ever having been if you will not be remembered? If you had no impact? If your existence made no difference?

What difference will I make? We look at the world around us and it is hard not to be overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness, when we feel the world is so destined to tragedy, unfairness and cruelty - with undeniable evidence of global warming, warfare and social injustices - to a point where it feels like there is no tangible solution. In a world of 6.6 million people, who am to think I can make any significant difference? A single fish in the sea... a needle in a haystack... as I stop, stand back and observe, the world continues on around me, unaffected...

Maybe it is too much to expect we can change the world: but does it matter if we make a difference in many lives or just one life? Maybe it doesn't. To change the life of one person - that is significant. Think about someone who has changed your life and how much that means to you. One or many lives... it all counts and it is all important.

So how do we make a difference in someone else's life? Someone once told me that the key is to be yourself. Let people be inspired by who you are. Everyone is different, everyone views the world differently and everyone has unique needs. Someone needs you just the way you are, so let yourself shine: perhaps it is possible to inspire others by simply being you. I think my biggest fear is that perhaps, it is not.

You made a world of difference to my life, so why couldn't I affect yours?

Yet even if I did make a difference in just one life, it would never be enough. I would want more - to affect two, three, four lives. To affect one hundred lives. To change the world. And again, just as she nears achievement, the perfectionist pushes her goals further out of reach. But for now, this is enough, because it must be... bigger and better things lie ahead...

Look me in the eye...

Look me in the eye.
It's okay if you're scared.
So am I.
But we're scared for different reasons.
I'm scared of what I won't become.
And you're scared of what I could become.
Look at me.
I won't let myself end where I started.
I won't let myself finish where I began.
I know what is within me, even if you can't see it yet.
Look me in the eyes.
I have something more important than courage.
I have patience.
I will become what I know I am.
Michael Jordan