I came to a realization this morning.
Yes, yes. I had another outburst. It wasn't as bad as the last one in December and the word "outburst" makes me sound so pretentious but it's not like I care. I've never cared about what people thought of me, and I still don't. But I do care about other people.
So much that I often forget to care about myself.
I don't think I was even angry today.
I just broke.
I shouted fluent sentences without my voice cracking even once.
My brain moved as fast as my mouth -- something that rarely happens.
Ever.
I wasn't going to write about the Late 紅包 until he came home, but it looks as though that's not going to happen any time soon.
I'm not sad, or worried, really, because I didn't know him.
My cousin had run away from home just a few days before Chinese New Year's Eve -- the day we all got together, brought down the circular table from upstairs, and gambled with pennies until midnight.
So that night, his whole family didn't show at my grandparents' house.
He's in his third year of college (including the year he flunked out, I think... I can't be sure), so I'm sure you think it's ridiculous. But Peter lived with his mother at her request. My aunt had about six alarm clocks set up for his lazy ass, but they didn't work. He was always late for class, and skipping who knows how much of them.
Like I said, I didn't know him.
I didn't know if he tried to please his mother. Maybe at the beginning he tried. Tried really hard. But then he gave up because he was never good enough.
He began to rebel.
My aunt grew into a bigger and bigger annoyance to him each time we went to a family gathering, and he stressed more and more.
I don't know whose fault it was, but I know I don't want to end up like him, which means I have the get my shit together. I know he was confused and angry and probably thought he hated everything around him, but I know I'm not immature the way he is. At least, I won't be after today.
I know we're both ambitious people, but I'm going to save myself before it's too late.
For so long I've lived for other people.
I know it sounds cliche, but why do things become cliche the more they happen? I don't think it means something is being overused, but rather, it is becoming a more and more serious issue. Why do you think so many people write about star-crossed lovers? It's becoming a bigger problem.
Right?
It's "cliche," but I need to start living for myself.
I wouldn't call it my breaking point, but the state I reach after months of build-up in stressful events is not pretty. Only twenty-one people have seen me in this state, and I don't intend for it to appear to anyone else.
The thing is, I don't even give myself all this stress.
Homework stress is one thing. I can handle that.
But the pressure of being some Jesus 3.0 has completely ruined me.
No, I'm not talking about being a vessel of communication always.
No, I'm not talking about all the times I've "saved your life."
No.
I'm talking about all those times my good judgement sucked like shit.
Wait. You know what?
Fuck this.
YES.
I'VE WASTED SO MUCH TIME ON SO MANY THINGS AND PEOPLE.
Don't take it personally. I'm fucking serious. Don't be selfish like me.
All I'm saying is that, with all that time, I could have acted in my own interest and felt so much more pride in my creations. Don't read too much into it.
And this doesn't mean you should stop talking to me or asking me for help.
Just don't be dumb.
It's a disease.
Shit i have no idea what i just wrote
I apologize
JUST KIDDING I DON'T.
I DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR CRAP
..connie..
..connie..
