Contemplation in a daze

The funny thing about being a psychology student is that what you learn in classes, you apply it to yourself before you make the habit of analyzing and applying it to anyone else.

Every week, 5:30 PM in the afternoon of Thursday’s, would be our Social Psychology class. And last night’s topic was very interesting because it kind of got everybody hooked in and that makes the social interaction in the class a bit more lively than usual.

The topic was all about LOVE.

What a common topic for a discussion, you can say. But no, the lesson was discussed and was not generated to some couple-relationship shit perception but what love is and it’s forms.

So, it got me thinking. I was kind of confused about these past months if what I’m really feeling is love or not. And I can say that I have never been in love because I can’t seem to grasp the idea of it. It was a bit frustrating, telling myself that I know what I want and I know what I’m doing but the reality always bite me in the ass and it kind of hurts, really.

My heart ached through the discussion, for the fact that I think I’m just telling myself what I really wanted think. And I feel awful of what I’m doing to other people’s love, when they give it to me and I can’t give it back. I just take, and I know how that feels because I have my dumb love in the past.

Even though I know I have moved on and healed myself in the process, it sort of left me hanging on the edge, and just not letting anyone take anything from me anymore. And it sucks, because I want to give love, but I can’t. There is this barrier that even I can’t break down myself.

And I hate myself for it.

There are times when I wanted to cry, but I can’t, because this is my fault. Maybe a bit of whom broke my heart, but the thing was I let it consume me, take over me and now I can’t control it and it really frustrates me that I just want to shut myself down at times.

And I need to cry, because I know this is how I can relieved myself. But I can’t, I can’t cry because no water’s gonna flow anyway.

I just want to settle down, figure out what I’m about.

Every night I’m filled with bruises.


“Shadows hide every bit of you.”

It is such a cliche that I have to endure these cuts for 4 days in a week.

Yes, it is possible to endure these stinging cuts made by the water of my imperfections and responsibilities. That every freaking time I went home at 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning, rushing out of that door to heal and find myself in a dark street full of unwell people, enduring the stinging bruises for at least 15 minutes as my tired feet haggled me with pleasure when I get home, and to treat these bruises with water, soap and some sleep.

But the stinging pain never stop. It never stopped. The physical sting, I can endure those but these mental and emotional stinging that I feel never stopped for the past 6 years and I don’t really know where it’s taking me. It is all a relapse, an ambitious, diabolical relapse that even I, wonder at times if this is how my life is gonna turn out anyway.

Bruises sting, I am aware of that. And I endured it, but I am grateful as well for these reminds me of how I built myself from scratch, where I was shoved in the corner with no one to talk to and gave myself the reality of it all.

I love these bruises for it reminds me of my sanity, and mostly, of myself.