A lagniappe of love I know yet I don’t know

My mornings have been the same.

Not as what I have always envisaged it would be.

I always get to the point of talking to myself about who I really am.

Why am I getting myself into this, by the way?

I too couldn’t understand myself. But that’s far better though than having nobody do.

As of the moment, I just feel so much loneliness. It’s running to and fro in my vessels.

I feel like I’d rather be someone inexistent

Nobody would ever see me as me, anyway. That’s exempts my sister though. She has always been there

…there to have quarrels with me after some inevitable issues we have been facing.

…there, not plainly as a sister but as my best friend who listens and heeds to me at times.

…there… to scold me… for wasting my time over nonexistent figures and imaginary people who understand the “me” in different characters.

It’s been a while since I last came to these stuff, in order to find true happiness.

Happiness…

Yes. Happiness…

After such times when I last confided to these imaginary people, was the time I found the truest happiness. By giving myself to God and enjoying His company ALONE.

I couldn’t tell this way how He miraculously turned the tables. I changed. And that “change” means a lot. Although I could not understand God’s love yet but I was so much indulged in learning how to love Him and fill myself with so much about Him. Much more, I had always prayed to be like Him and be obsessed with nothing else but just Him.

Yet, I also came to the point of questioning myself for the times I compare my personal relationship with God with others’. I was always itching to know why I felt that way and even told myself “Do I really, truly, unreservedly, irresistibly love God? Or am I only proving my worth to other people? Or am I just feeling down and alone, and I need to be known by acting as somebody and be loved? Why am I still so immature and untrustworthy? Why do I still have these childish and impulsive decisions?” and I began hating myself more.

I looked strong in front of people. But finally, now, I broke down to pieces.

Just recently, I’ve thought of how much I miss learning about God, now I realized that there have always been flaws alongside. And I don’t like them.

Right now, I feel like I could only attain real happiness by obsessing over nonexistent figures… again.

I’m back to finding joy in nonexistent people who are created to give temporary tingles and joys to lonely and depressed real people. I’m one of them. Not that I want to, who would? But these cheerful imaginary friends give me joys nobody ever has given me, though in reality, they do not have any sense to know who I really am, what my real problems are, and what pushed me to meet them. They do not know how depressed a person I am. They will never, ever, care to know either.

The quarrels with my sister have been putting this up now as the case. I knew she’d understand if I shared. But I’ve been obnoxious in front of her ever since that time…

That time I regretted the most. With the stupidest decision I made.

My eyes are narrowing as I’m typing this. Literally.

I hate reminiscing the bad times. I’ve had enough since I was born. Sometimes I’d think I’m having too much.

Growing up separately, I lived unpeacefully with a harder environment than she did. She’s always been praised for being the best child every parent would wish to have, especially in terms of character and academics – she’s always been the best.

She, a post university-grad (with too-many-to-mention flying colors) and me in a college having a hard time catching up in class and barely even breathing whenever I see my grades in the monitor, are living together far away from our parents. She as a physics professor in a university and me as a med school undergrad, sometimes fight over childish things like when I ask her to help me with my journal presentations, because I’m too dumb and I always often compare myself to her.

Yeah, me.

Me…

Who never likes the word “study”.

Me…

Who rather picks up on reading unnecessary books than my notes.

Me…

Who either gets just the passing grade or fail.

Me…

Who’s always hiding under other people’s shadows.

Me…

Who’s never attained the happiness she’s always dreamed of.

 

I’m a lonely and tired person.

I’m a fanatic, as well…

But to tell you…

I’m only happy when my sister’s with me wherever I want to be.

I know I’m selfish.

I am. Affirmative.

I know while you’ve been reading this, you could hardly get the point.

But all I want to say is how SELFISH I am.

I always crave for attention, but only from one.

I always yearn for acknowledgement and enjoyment with someone who knows me best.

I always keep myself indulged in things that make me happy, without regard for real ones who love me for real.

Because it’s true…

I’m still too immature.

I’m inexperienced.

Impulsive.

Childish.

Obsessed.

Insane.

Attention-seeking.

I’m the least person anybody would choose to go and spend time with, or most likely not.

 

Should I embrace me?

Or change for others’ sake?

I know exactly where to go but I had to run a longer path before I get there and it’s no easy road nor have I the capability to run fast a mile.

Because I’m crippled.

And having none else to blame but myself, yes, I crippled myself to death.

But no matter how I try, I just can’t die the normal way.

I need something I know yet I do not know.