A letter to my journal

I guess you really are my bestfriend. Whoever created words are people that I am deeply indebted too. Imagine a world without poems and songs. I just couldn’t. 

Somehow, words feel as if it’s art. It is a dialect that I’m comfortable in, my safe place, my cocoon. When things are exciting, it’s you, my journal, that I tell these stories too. And when I feel suffocated, it’s you that I turn to.

I am beyond grateful that I have you as my bestfriend, as my crying shoulder and my emotional sponge. I have you to thank for helping me cope with a world that moves too fast for a person with a fragile heart. I have you to thank for being my playground and avenue of creative expression. I thank you, my journal, for being the witness to all the highs and lows of being a human.

My mind cannot fathom how 23 characters can make intangible ideas and thoughts feel so real. It is beyond my understanding how typing on a keyboard or grabbing a pen and paper can give such a cathartic feeling. Writing to you my journal, is one of the most magical things that I am grateful that I can do in this era.

Thank you, my journal, for listening to my rants, for accepting my rage, and for acknowledging that I can have all these thoughts and be rough around the edges, and still be accepted. Thank you for giving me the space to write about the nightmares and for immortalizing the good stuff. You have gotten me through a lot and helped me survive when I was walking in the darkest tunnel. With you, I know that I am safe.

I wish more people would write. I wish more would get to see the beauty that pouring yourself on a page could bring. I wish more would be more reflective of their thoughts. I do believe that if more people write on you, journal, there will be a better generation of humans.

A fool

Everything has been unstable as long as i can remember. Maybe that’s the reason why I want to be a doctor, to have a stable job, a stable home, and everything stable because I never had that. I never felt like tomorrow will not be a struggle.

I was born in a problematic, and kinda traumatic family. My negativity goes deep. My  outlook in life has been a net result of instability. It’s hard to focus. It’s even harder to reach a goal when problems crop up like spores of a fungi.

To be realistic, happiness seems so overrated. It’s a tiny oasis in the midst of this never ending desert. But still, humans are fools. We believe in the ‘happy’. We’re supposed to show everyone how happy we are to the point that some even love bragging how successful they are.

But yes, I am also a fool. I am one of those people who will encourage others, be a listening ear, and a shoulder to lean on. I always give positive advice to my friends. After all, that’s the lot that I can do. I also make them believe in a happier world even though I myself have a hard time convincing this twisted brain of mine.

Yes, its hypocrite-ish. I am a hypocrite  if we’ll base a person’s character in words and actions. Sometimes i mean what i say. Sometimes I don’t.

Yes, I’m a walking contradiction. My views can change in a blink of an eye. It’s not because i’m a push over. It’s because I’m too open-minded.

No, I’m not a bad person. Being vulnerable does not make me a shitty human being. It makes me sane, a normal person.

So how do we live? How do we get through?

We remain fools. Although we know deep inside how lonely this world is and how injustice stares right at our face, we choose to believe that somehow, that tiny bit of good is still there. At least for me, that’s what works.

Unstable situations may make it hard for us to focus, but we have to just think of the next tiny step. Even if it’s just washing your face, fixing your bed, or getting up, it adds up. It could probably lead to a net result of happy.