Just Thoughts

VI

08.17.2020

I kind of have mixed feelings about discovering my hobbies and talents. Guilt and pity to myself.

It's a shame that the purpose of them was never because I like them.

Learned how to sing because they were expecting of me to do so as my siblings and parents does.

Learned how to draw because I'm the only capable one.

Learned how to write rhyming poetry and stories because my thoughts are too overwhelming.

And then in the following years alternately using these talents to distract myself from dwelling into my emotions, overthinking, and committing suicide.

I hate to admit it but I have this constant fear of having to disappoint others, offend them or make them mad at me for any reason that concerns me. Whether it be by my words, actions or expressions. That when this fear becomes reality everything will be racing in crumbling down.

I read books, i draw things, I sing songs, I write poems and stories.

I make lies to avoid scolding and to continue a seemingly fun conversation. I offer comfort for those who need it because it's what I think I need to do as their friend. I study hard to reach to my parents expectations. I worked hard so that I won't be compared to others better than me.

How pathetic.

I could not think of a single thing that I did for myself.

Most of the things I've done are all for the recognition and acceptance of others. To fit in a social circle I must do this and that.

Come to think of it, I have never once remember that I did something that makes me say,

"Oh, I really like to do this again."

Or

"I really want this and that, I want to do this so much I won't get bored of it my entire life."

"Ah, this is why I continued on living ."

Not once. Seventeen years of life and I haven't found anything I genuinely want to do. No ambitions, true hobbies nor wishes for myself.

I hope that this will change in the future.

If not then, I might have already lost my life to my foolish action by then.

I don't want to live nor living every single day looking for a reason.

But I don't like pain and I'm too scared to die.

Makes sense? Of course not.

Nothing at this point in life does.