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Maybe it’s because I am curating what I express on paper too much. When I write, I always think of the people who might read it and so I start filtering until what I intend to put to words is left out, or not let out entirely.
I haven’t been honest for awhile because let’s face it, even if being honest should be the easiest thing to do, it just isn’t. And when it is precisely being raw and sincere that writing should be about, what I’ve been doing—and that is writing with filters—just don’t make sense. And so even if I have to wake up three hours from now to accompany my brother whom I haven’t seen in two full days even if we live under the same roof on a field trip, I am here typing away, trying to be honest. I’m tired of lying, or at least holding back. Here I am now, no filter.
I feel lost and stuck at the same time. It’s contradicting—knowing that with an audience in mind, I opt a lot of things out in my writing, and feeling bad about writing for no one to read. I feel bad because it’s like I’m talking to no one. Sounds crazy, eh? I don’t know how to reconcile this, honestly. Maybe I have to ask myself: what is my purpose of writing? Who do I write for? I’d like to think I write for myself. I write for myself. I write. For. Myself.
You write for yourself, Alyssa. Stop curating.
I’ve developed hatred towards social media recently and as the days go by; it makes less sense to me to be on it anymore. Ever since I felt like I wasn’t part of the group of friends I thought I was part of from seeing pictures of them hanging out all the time without me, I didn’t like being on social media anymore and being caught up with other people’s lives and whereabouts. I think it is not important to be so. I almost feel like it’s a waste of time, when I could instead be living my own life, reading books, making art and whatnot. I also don’t feel like I should update everyone with what’s happening in my life through social media because if they’d want to be updated, they’d reach out and catch up, right? Or I don’t know. What I know is that social media is not doing me any good anymore and so I let it go. I still have them, but they don’t take much of my time anymore.
I kind of feel the same way for some of my friends whom I’m starting to drift away from, too. It is when it’s hard to keep up and be in each other’s lives that you know who your friends really are—the ones who will make an effort to somehow still be part of your life and include you in theirs. When you feel like you aren’t remembered, most likely you aren’t. Or I don’t know. Either way, I let it go a bit. Or at least I convince myself that I did. Loss is something I am not good at handling, that’s why a part of me is still hoping I actually didn’t lose anything.
I should probably reach out to them.
Probably not.
That’s pride talking.
I’m sad right now. I have no one to talk to. [sentence filtered out by the coward] That’s what I want to change because it sucks and it’s sad. I don’t want to be like this anymore; I want to free myself of [filtered out].
I am not happy.
I know they all say that we should be whole by ourselves first and all that independence shit, but this journey isn’t meant to be gone through alone. I need someone to debrief with. I need someone to talk to. I don’t like feeling alone; I need someone to be real with. To God and the universe: please send some help.
Am I being real when no one sees it? Do anything I write matter when no one reads them? Am I being heard when I have no one to listen?
[sentence filtered out by the coward]. I’ve read that my type, INFP, tends to hold people to unrealistic expectations. I guess that’s what I did to [filtered out]. [sentence filtered out by the coward].
I’m sorry, self. I’m sorry, you.
Anyway, I ask myself now: am I living it right? Am I living the life I want to live?
Not quite yet.
I want to be able to travel, to experience new things and meet new people. To create things. To collaborate. To discover more of myself, to make art. [filtered out] are living the life I imagine to be happy living. I admire them a lot; they inspire me. I guess the difference between them and myself is that they are independent and have a strong ground on their self-worth or something like that. They also actively pursue their art. They travel and meet new people and shit. I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself with other people but yeah, I should do something about this. I don’t wanna feel like I am stuck in an 11×11 room like Ma and Jack. I don’t wanna be stuck.
I wanna be free.
Send help.
More importantly: self, help yourself.
P.S. Okay I lied. I filtered.