digihaze

[digihaze]

tonight i felt like writing

as i went up to my room after making myself a drink on this quiet evening, i had the thought of wanting to write. my current emotional state has been content for a few days; there has been nothing eventful that’s triggered my sensitivity, although i wouldn’t say that everything’s fine as they are. of course i have deeply embedded anxieties i still worry over, but i’ve been trying keeping those at bay to focus on the present.

however, the present isn’t any interesting, either. on the contrary, i think under these circumstances i’ve relapsed into old lifestyle habits i had in high school-- sleeping at ungodly hours, waking up late, playing videogames and anime, and avoiding any form of responsibility. even though this is hardly anything new to me, it’s hard to endure this kind of life when you have nothing you look forward to. each day blends into one another so seamlessly from the moment i wake up to when i begin to fall asleep, it feels like i’ve been living on autopilot. while every day feels like the day before, i am selfishly relieved that i don’t feel like i’ve failed for once in my post-grad life. this quarantine spent holed up in my room with a lack of social interaction and excitement has become a safe haven from all the pressure i feel of not being “successful”. it’s a bittersweet realization.

right now in my adult life everything is a big fat question mark that has no linear path to follow. which, i hate to say it, but it makes me scared when we leave our house and start becoming contributing members of society again. 

i’ve become so used to this unhealthy lifestyle of unproductivity that i’m reluctant and afraid of pushing myself to grow. i’m scared to leave the safety of my room and go back to work having to face people every single day until my life is over. while the thought of a second wave of outbreaks is worrisome, i’m most scared of constantly feeling so confused and inadequate in my adult life again. right now, everything is at a standstill, but i just know once everything becomes normal and i go back to working, i’ll be plagued by more thoughts of incompetency all over again. 

but living this way won’t make me happy either. what’s better: enduring life when nothing is happening or enduring life when nothing seems like it’s going right for you?

i don’t know the answer to that and no one does. 

on a quiet evening as i write this post, i’ve laid bare my heart, but only a little bit. and that’s enough for now.

[digihaze]

Istanbul, Turkey by Michelle Catherine

[digihaze]

vieitnamese farmers harvest water chestnuts in fields of blowing waves of grass (x)

[digihaze]

how funny

after all these years of inactivity it still surprises me that, when i’ve reached my capacity to needlessly bottle everything, i turn to this site for comfort. since being introduced to tumblr in 2010 i’ve made countless blogs, each compartmentalized to cater to specific interests of mine. initially i would meet each new blog with fervor, tirelessly posting and reblogging content tailored to a theme i’ve specified, but like all things i’ve had one-handed enthusiasm for, it ended with disinterest.

yet, whenever my heart feels heavy and i’m in the verge of an emotional response that’s unable to explicitly show itself physically, i turn to writing as release. at this point, creating new blogs to vent and express myself temporarily has become a weirdly compulsive way to process thoughts i’ve internalized for a while. earlier this year in january, i tried journaling for the first time on a notebook. for a while it served its purpose, but it wasn’t able to capture how deep my words could’ve been. looking back, my feelings written in that black notebook were superficially self-centered and awfully one-note. “i feel like��, “i hate”, “i think”. i wrote a lot about my insecurities and my shortcomings, but they all sounded like whining. it sounded like i was in high school all over again experiencing teenage angst. it’s hard to reflect when all your words sound like a sense of entitlement and a lack of gratitude. 

i stopped journaling after a month and a half because of this. 

surely, this blog may probably meet the same demise, as well. just a bunch of florally written phrases that serve nothing more than a chance for me to complain about my life except now it’s saved in a digital space protected by anonymity. but compared to that notebook, i’m confident i can better capture the essence of my words. i want to assure myself that what i feel is valid and what i write is valid without feeling like i’m whining.

this is my 8th blog, and i hope this is my last. 

to tumblr, thanks for giving me this weird comfort.

[digihaze]

2019-10-06

https://www.instagram.com/hwantastic79vivid/