myparadoxicalself

[myparadoxicalself]

C,

Am I being too demanding if I beg God to give you just a few more years? Am I being too greedy if I say 6 years with you is still too short? Am I being too emotional if I admit to you that you're still here And yet it's already longing for you?

[myparadoxicalself]

please please PLEASE reblog this

What happens once you kill yourself? Because I'm ready to go.

You wanna know what happens once you kill yourself? Your mother comes home from work and finds her baby dead and she screams and runs over to you and tries to get you to wake up but you won’t and she keeps screaming and shaking you and her tears are dripping onto your face and your dad hears all the screaming and runs into the room and he can’t even speak because the child that he loved and the child that he watched grow up is gone forever and finally your little sister runs into the room to see what all the fuss is about and she sees you dead. The person she looked up to and loved. The person she bragged about to  her friends, the person she wanted to be just like when she grew up, the person that made her feel safe. But she’s never really going to get to grow up and smile and laugh and love because she’ll always be consumed with this feeling of missing you. And now there’s something missing from your family and they can barely look at each other anymore because everything reminds them of you but you’re gone and hurts more than anything. and you think that your mom never cared because she was always busy and yelling at you to finish your homework and clean your room and forgot to say I love you sometimes but really, she loved you more than anything and she doesn’t leave the house anymore, she can’t even get out of bed and she’s getting thinner and thinner because it’s too hard to eat. Your father had to quit his job and he doesn’t sleep anymore, every time he closes his eyes he sees his baby dead, and the image never goes away no matter how much alcohol he drinks. And at school your best friend sees that your seat is empty and she gets this sick feeling in her stomach and that’s when she hears the announcement. You killed yourself. And suddenly she’s screaming and crying in the middle of class and no one even bothers comforting because they’re all  busy sitting there staring at your empty seat with tears dripping down their cheeks and all she wants is for you to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay like you always did, but this time, you’re not there to do it, everything is dark now that you’re gone and her grades are slipping, she barely goes to school anymore and she ended up in hospital after taking too many pills because she wanted to see you again. the girls who used to make fun of the way you dressed feel their throats get tight, they don’t talk to each other anymore, they don’t talk to anyone, they’re all in therapy trying so hard not to blame themselves but nothing works. and your teacher who always gave you a hard time stares blankly at the wall, she quits her job a few days later. And then your boyfriend hears the news and he can’t breathe, he still calls you a lot just to hear your voice and he talks to you on facebook but you never message him back, he can’t fall in love again because every girl he meets reminds him of you, he’s never going to get over you, he loved you and he cries himself to sleep every night, hating himself and slicing his skin because he couldn’t save you and he’s never going to hold you in his arms or hear you laugh again. Now everyone who knew you, whether they were a big part of your life or someone you passed in the hallway a few times a week, they carry this aching feeling around inside them because you’re gone, and they miss you, and they don’t know why you left but it must’ve been their fault and they should’ve stopped you and they should’ve told you they loved you more and that feeling is never going to go away. And so you killed yourself

but you killed everyone else around you too. 

[myparadoxicalself]

Beneath the moon's tender gaze, I wept, Lost in a labyrinth of frustration, Doubt gnawed at my soul, As I questioned the validity of my emotions.

Yet, with the dawn's gentle touch, Clarity blossomed within me. No longer shall I wander in uncertainty, Instead, I shall embrace my anguish, Trace its delicate tendrils to their source.

I vow to tend to my wounds, To cradle them with tender care, And never again shall I doubt The authenticity of my pain, For in its depths lies the truth of my being. - 4/22/24

[myparadoxicalself]

[myparadoxicalself]

nobody ever gets the mugshot of gluttony right. these days you think it has nothing to do with bodyweight. what a good trick: that gluttony could take a shape. no, there was never any fault in finishing a meal or in taking second helpings. it was always in taking from others that there was an issue - the oil baron's fingers steepled over dead bodies and stolen lands. gluttony - twin of greed, although most think greed and envy are the siblings - gluttony is pleased with the experience of gaining, is thrilled just-by-having. greed is the one that stays hungry, that has to move forever like a shark. gluttony likes it - "a glutton for punishment" is one who is seeking the harm, who loves the rush.

gluttony is a mother using her daughter's body for a diet testing ground, sharpening the bone angles. gluttony is saying why, well not! to the seventh and eighth mansion or yacht. it is not just wanting the six white horses, it is making sure that the horses came from your stables. it is not just bathing in milk - it is bathing in milk while others are starving.

oh, it's true that some sins still blaze in their bright floral prints. wrath in a white woman yelling at a person of color for even daring to be in her neighborhood. the red, incipient rage of a neck tightened at even the thought we would take the guns away. wrath has laurels, and she is good at her job, and works hard.

but sloth wasn't ever the sleepy morning of depression, the hours spent begging a clouded body to please move goddamn it; the protestant work ethic claiming even rest is somehow demonic. it was never chronic fatigue. sloth was subtle, a grey mist. she is watching you get bullied and she is deciding it is none of her business. she crosses the picket line because - what! it's just chicken, isn't it? she is closing her eyes and turning her head when the next anti-gay legislation passes. someone else will handle it. not the tense freeze of anxiety or a lack of preparation - she knows you're hurting and would rather you stay quiet about it. she tells other people i just don't see what the big deal is.

sloth is a father that doesn't do the dishes. sloth is your boyfriend's innocent shrug you're just better at household shit. sloth isn't the missed opportunity - it is the purposeful desire to just get-someone-else-to-do-it.

greed and envy are doing body shots in the back of a private jet. they are the way they always have been, but are lovers in the age of the internet. greed just finished union busting, is rolling a bitcoin over his knuckles, is about to start another MLM. envy is in a broadbrimmed hat, showing off her instagram life, grinning about how if you want it, work for it.

okay, it's true. you have a soft spot for lust, gathering dust in a corner. so tame in comparison to the others. but how funny lust is always painted as being a woman in tight clothes. you've met actually lustful women - the ones that purposefully climb into your partner's lap, the ones that say lesbians are gross but ask bisexual women into bed with their husbands. a lustful woman is not donned in lace and garters and red: that's how men think lust looks, painting their own sins into frame. this way, the sin displaces as fog and hovers above her: a woman in a dress is lust; what the man experiences is just the natural consequence.

here is the thing: lust is doing just fine, save your pity. lust is running more circles than any of them. lust is shutting down safe sexwork sites while also making teenagers in knee-high socks sex sensations. lust is CEO of an advertising network where women never pass 25 years old. all the bras lust makes are pretty to look at but, when worn, legitimately hurt. lust has a podcast, his fur coat looped around his shoulders, sells the idea that only certain people have value, that sex raises some and destroys others. lust is tilting his head and asking what did you expect when you dress like that? lust shuns you, sneers that everything you want is disgusting and taboo - right until he can figure out how to capitalize off of it. lust has the midas ability: everything he touches becomes an object.

people usually say wrath is the scary one. you agree with FMA here, though: the real dangerous one is pride, and the shit-eating grin. the white cloaks and the nationalism and the inability to apologize. it is every partner who threw a book at your head because you don't respect him. it is every mother who said my son doesn't deserve to have his life ruined over allegations. it is the teacher that fails you because you talked back.

you worry you have this one. you feel guilty when you need help but don't ask for it. prideful. ashamed when you complete something and feel good about it. too proud for your own good. but pride is not the reward of hard work or accomplishment: pride is a twitter feed. it is the thing that has to mask i didn't do anything with look at me.

pride is your father's raised hand, his raised voice. how he was never there when you needed him, but he is still "head of house." he ruins dinner and blames it on you: you're an embarrassment to this family. this is the glass you walk around, the cuts in your feet. how he says this isn't how i raised you and you have to bite back the retort: that's because you didn't actually fucking raise me.

[myparadoxicalself]

stagnant

I am aware of how far I am from reaching my goals. It saddens me how the things I am dying to achieve are such easy things for others. Most nights, I ponder on things that could have been or will ever be, but every morning, I wake up in the same stagnant cycle of life.

[myparadoxicalself]

Twenty-year-old me to me of now

„What matters isn‘t what people say but what you like and find joy in. I hope you focus less on how you look to others people and more on fulfilling your true desires.”

- Baek Sehee

[myparadoxicalself]

I love you too much that even if this world is too cruel, and mean, and unfair, I still want to live in it indefinitely as long as I'm with you.

[myparadoxicalself]

I find myself getting angry more often these days. It is an outward one, so I tend to release it on objects. What could be the underlying reason?

[myparadoxicalself]

Papa, I miss you so bad

Monster burger emeged 😍👌🍔🍔

[myparadoxicalself]

I want to cry. I have to cry. I need to cry.

But I can’t.

[myparadoxicalself]

“What if I’m one of those who enjoy generational wealth?”

These days, madalas kong naiisip na, “What if I’m one of those who enjoy generational wealth?” I have never been a materialistic person who splurge on shopping and buying branded items, but I never seem to save money despite working 12 hours a day. How does it feel to have the privilege to take a rest when you’re sick? to take a break when you’re unstable? to take time for yourself to just actually “live”?

Last April 25, I had to have me molar tooth extracted, the one that’s been bothering my for YEARS. I thought it was gonna be okay afterwards and still be able to work, kasi makakapahinga pa naman ako ng few hours. Pero the pain didn’t stop. I was crying on my bed, being consoled by my husband. It was too painful. I can say I am a strong-willed person na kahit masakit, I can set my mind to turn the tides. Pero this time, I couldn’t. I took two tablets of painkillers even if I shouldn’t para lang mawala. When I realized na hindi ko na kayang ituloy mag turo, I informed our shift head na hindi ko kayang pumasok because of my condition, I was told na dapat sinabi ko a day before. Pero they accepted, but as per company rules, they would close my schedule for three days. THREE DAYS! Suddenly, my heart ached a bit more than the gum wound kasi I know na wala akong choice kundi pumasok. What are three days of no work for me? That’s already a month’s worth of grocery, or half of the money I set aside to pay rent. Then the thought of having generational wealth came to my mind: If only I could afford to take three days off to allow myself to comfortably soothe the pain, that would’ve been nice. If only I could have the privilege to skip buying groceries and still have food on my table. If only I had a roof over my head that I could call my own, then I wouldn’t have forced myself to still go to work even after being a human and feeling agonizing pain.

If only.....

[myparadoxicalself]

From the sky

Feeling like a traitor When life becomes easier When I give off a laughter For who am I to deserve happiness While you’re there watching from the sky?

[myparadoxicalself]

V

Coz you’re the song I would always play on loop My comfort when my days are blue

Coz you’re the one I can always call my home Oh, baby don’t ever slip away Never thought I’d be home one day.

[myparadoxicalself]

How do you stop yourself from being bothered when you can’t even identify what the hell is bothering you?

[myparadoxicalself]

Im happy, hurting, and healing at the same time. dont ask me how

[myparadoxicalself]

Jack-of-all trades, a master of none A friend of all, the dearest to no one I wonder whether it’s better than none or if I will ever leave a mark when I’m gone.