Stories

STORIES

I enjoy writing stories from time to time. Non-fiction stories, I mean. Beware, whoever is reading this now. Know that below is a 5000word essay that will drive you mad. So, jump away from this page now, or forever regret your decision. Yours truly. 

"Maybe I'm a dreamer, but I still believe." 

-Bon Jovi 

You know, I never quite understood the meaning of that particular lyric from their song, not till recently. And somehow or other while I loved that song and listened to it, I never appeared to me that it was trying to tell me something, I just didn't know what. When I got tired of it and put it on the songs-I-used-to-love-but-now-is-so-yesterday's-mail list(which amounts to hundreds, cough), that phrase still remained in my head, and I always thought of it at times when I was randomly daydreaming or merely thinking about quotes that meant a lot to me. Yes, if you used to know me, I was a lot of things I know now I shouldn't have become. I was reflecting back yesterday on who I used to be, and the things I said and did, and how it actually shaped me into a person that was just.... messed up. I didn't think I was messed up, but I was blind. 

God showed me what I was missing. He showed me that love was the greatest thing any human could have, to receive, and most of all, to believe in. He wanted to show me that he still loves me and that He hadn't forgotten me although I was lost and confused and indirectly knew I was going down the drain in my spiritual life. He showed me what His love could do, what it could bring, and how unconditional it is, and that I never needed to earn it; it was always there and will always be there. 

I was messed up. Maybe people won't believe me; but then I hid a lot of myself. Did anyone ever knew what sort of music I listened to? Yes, people know I loved Nickelback, I loved Linkin Park, I loved hard, alternative, loud rock. I still do, but to a certain extent. For me, it was the lyrics that counted most; and it was these words that etched in my head that took me down the wrong turning. To me, it was cool. I liked being different. I hated being like everyone else. Everyone else was stupid, ignorant, lame, close-minded, generic. They were all the same. I was different, a blue fish amongst the yellows, I didn't fit in with anyone and nobody cared about me. I liked it that way, to have people not accept me because I was different, or maybe weirder or something. But who was I trying to kid? I hated it. I hated the fact I couldn't fit in with anyone, I felt like a fish out of the water, I didn't know why I was this way and I kept hating myself because I thought there was something wrong with me. Wasn't there something wrong with me? What am I doing wrong that I should deserve this? I hated the world, hated the people who were in it. Everything they did or liked were silly, I ridiculed everything from couples to close sibling-like friendships amongst others... to me they were generic, stupid, overly and unnecessarily sentimental, childish, annoying, and lame. Yes, I ridiculed. 

Deep inside I knew. All I wanted was to be part of this. I never knew what it felt like to have close friends watch over you, and mean ever so dear to them. I didn't know what it felt like to mean something to someone. I had friends, but we'd hit a rough patch due to immaturity on our parts(mmhmm, remembered how that went) and it made me feel worse. It made me feel even more worthless, it cemented my belief that all I did was annoy and anger people, that there was indeed something wrong with me and I needed to change. I felt hate coming at me from all sides, pulling me into this whirlpool of darkness in which I would slowly drown myself in. There was nothing to hold on, no one to hold me up, no one to support me. I let go of my last bane of support after it failed to comfort me; instead, it just stirred up more hatred in me. It made me feel like I was undeserving of any kind of affection in this world, and I was destined to stay that way. 

I hate feeling sorry for myself. I didn't want to go all emo and start carving 'nobody loves me' in large sad letters on wooden tables. I hated the thought of people thinking that this girl is all pathetic and sad due to loneliness, I didn't want that image of me showing up. And there was only one way to stop myself from doing so. I drew upon my hate, I told myself to be strong and show the rest you are fine, that you are okay, the once college starts it will be a whole different thing. That you'll be better than the rest. 

"FINE." I'd tell myself. "Fine." "Let others do what they want. I'll deal with this.. I don't need them. I don't need anyone. I'm okay like this. So what if others do this to me, treat me this way? Deal with it."

There was no way but to be hard on myself. 

I fueled these feelings by blasting my ears with Linkin Park songs, at least the loud screamy ones that pumped the adrenaline in my blood. There were about six songs that truly became a part of me, slowly and silently creeping into my mind. Everyday, Given Up was played about ten times or so, Crawling, In The End, One Step Closer, Bleed It Out were the other songs that kept me cheerful and happy, but unknowingly pumping me with even more hate. I thought these feelings would make me stronger and tougher emotionally. I was sick of the whole circus that was going on, people throwing fruits and eggs at me no matter how hard I try. It was never going to end; I just had to accept it and deal with it. 

There were times when things got too rough, and I had another two LP songs that gave me comfort. These weren't the loud yelling ones, instead they were slower, and the lyrics spoke to me more than anything at that time. "From The Inside" was like my, themesong or something for months. Every word and lyric that shaped it spoke all the hidden feelings and the depression I was going through. But because I was too ashamed to tell anyone, I listened to it constantly instead. It was the only thing that understood me; the only thing that would listen to my pain..the only source of comfort that saw me and what I was going through, and didn't ridicule me for it. I was ashamed of what I was feeling...I felt I must never let it show or tell anyone because there was no one there to listen, and if I told someone, I only knew what I was going to get: Blame. I already accepted that belief that I am to blame for this, but I couldn't bear to hear it from someone else. I didn't need to hear it, I didn't want to hear it. I was frustrated, torn between my need for an understanding support which I could not find, and telling myself that this, this is my fault, it is of my own doing and that I must pay for it. That I deserve this, and don't you dare allow any self-pity, do you want everyone to laugh and make fun of you? I told myself that over and over again, and that made me hide everything inside, and listen to the songs, and I thought I was okay. I buried everything in a dark hatchet somewhere deep within me, and thought they'd be forgotten soon enough....... and the rest, is another long, long, loooooooong story. XD

Who wants to know about my super-long emotional past anyway. Nobody likes sad stories. I had a pathetic past, don't you think? But now that I'm out of it, I'm proud I made those mistakes. I would never have known then, what I did wrong. And now I do. Thanks to God. He gets allll the credit for what He has done for me; there's nothing compared to all the joy I've found, and all the truth I've discovered. 

You saw what I needed, Lord, and You gave it all for me, even though I didn't deserve it. Thank you for being my loving Father... help me trust in You, again, forever, and always. 

Nights. Peace out. :)

(Having a headache yet? Told you so. Not to read this. Your fault. LOL.)