a collection of things i learned & things i still wonder

Brouillon #1

{tw : slight mention of self-harm}

"It's okay that you're not who you thought you would be."

All my life, I spent hours daydreaming about the person I would be, one day.

I saw myself waking up at 8AM on a Saturday, yawning lazily. I'd open my curtains, walk to my kitchen, where I would pour orange juice in a clear glass, grab some fruits, and toast a piece of bread. Then I would grab a book, and read while I finish my breakfast. And then, I would start doing all the little chores of the house. Do the dishes. Vacuum my bedroom. Get the bottles of shampoo to sit upright and aligned. And when I'd be done with the easy tasks, I would sit down at my desk, put on a lo-fi playlist on YouTube, and display all my highlighters from pink to yellow to green to blue to purple. And then I would do my homework ; spend a few hours leaning on that desk, reading my textbooks, nodding thoughtfully as I grasp my head around some chemical concept, and jot down some aesthetically-pleasing notes on my notebook, that I would read again the next week, and the week after, until my exams period.

That's what my daydream me would do, on a Saturday morning.

But instead, it's the 30th of July, and I still have done nothing productive of my summer. I lay on my futon for hours and hours, scrolling through YouTube and Pinterest. I haven't eaten breakfast since the 5th of July, because I never wake up before noon. I keep not answering to my friends' messages and my mother's e-mails. I brought my camera, and my sketchbook, and yet I don't use them at all. I procrastinate reading that book I've wanted to read all year, saying I'd do it when I have the time to. I procrastinate drawing, even though I've said for months that I'd finally get back to it this summer. I procrastinate watching the shows I've promised my friend I'd watch for the third consecutive summer. I procrastinate making a Twitter account.

Everyday I daydream, about the me that will go to prep school. Will I magically stop procrastinating my exam until the very last evening ? Will I actually focus during math class, like I've stopped doing for 3 years ? Will I be able to speak in front of my classmates without hearing my words come out of my mouth and feeling like I don't know where they're coming from ?

Most probably, no. I won't.

I'm stuck with me. The me who is harsh to my mom for no reason. The me who makes promises to friends and ends up not keeping them. The me who gets excited for a ton of projects and never makes a move towards accomplishing them, or gives up as soon as they get started. The me who pins hundreds of aesthetic photos of people studying and quotes about making the most of your life, and never does either.

Also the me who cries every time I repeat the same mistake, and somehow keeps doing the same exact thing. And the me who's too anxious to phone the sushi place just next to the apartment, and the me who feels frustrated to tears when my mom asks me to take the trash out, if I don't have at least an hour to mentally prepare for it.

I'm stuck with the mess that is me, for the rest of my life.

But it's okay, that I'm not the person I dreamed I would be.

This is something that I've learned the past two years or so, and that took me a very long time to come to terms with.

When I was in primary school, I dreamed about the girl I would be in middle school. And in middle school, I realized I was philophobic, and anxious. I realized for the first time, when I was 11, laying on my futon, that one day I would die. That my life will end, that my existence will fade away, and with it eveything I've ever said, thought, and done. When I was in middle school, I had a shot at having a loving, kind, funny and smart boyfriend, and I blew it, because I was somehow convinced that I didn't deserve love, and that I shall stay alone, and that I deserved the pain, because I wasn't the good girl everyone thought I was.

When I was in middle school, I dreamed about the girl I would be in high school. And in high school, a lot happened, but I definitely didn't become that girl. But in high school, I also learned it was fine.

It took a lot of errors and trials.

It took promising my friend I'd never, ever self-harm again, and keeping that promise.

It took having to end a relationship and hurting someone, because I had no idea how to deal with myself, let alone deal with someone else.

It took admitting to my boyfriend that I hated myself, and when he asked "why ?", to actually consider the question and take the matter in my own hands, to know why.

It took training my mind to function in a completely different way, it took having to monitor every single thought I had about myself, and pouring all my efforts into seeing myself from another point of view.

But I've grown, and I've learned.

I'll never be the girl who wakes up early and has her shit together. However aesthetic it may be, I won't be the girl reading her notes in a Starbucks with a messy bun and an Espresso. I hate coffee anyway.

However, I'll be the me who opens her notebook at 1AM on a Monday, with Marina and the Diamonds playing on Spotify, and a headache because I'm reading by the light of my phone. I'll be the me grabbing a bowl of cereal at 1:30AM because I realized I forgot to eat dinner because I was watching a compilation of a Kpop idol doing stupid shit. I'll be the me who has a mental breakdown at 2AM and starts crying because, once again, I procrastinated everything until the last minute and I suddenly regret everything that I have ever done in my life. And I'll be the me who wakes up at 5:30AM to go to school, do my test, and realizes half of the things I studied weren't even on the test. And I'll be the me who promises to not do the same thing for the next test, and does it anyway.

But that's not all I'll be. I'll also be the me who manages to make her friends laugh. The me who is hella proud after writing an e-mail in Japanese. The me who writes uplifting messages to her depressed and non-depressed friends, or tries her best to, at least. The me who spends hours on editing a photo and is disapointed that it gets only 29 likes on Instagram, but is proud of the picture anyway. The me who bakes cookies twice a year, but makes everyone happy when she does so. The me who builds intricate stories in her bed and gets lost in her imagination from 1 to 3AM every summer night. The me who gives her succulents ridiculous names, and is sad when one of them dies.

I can deal with that me. After all, I've known her for a while. And for having been her at some point, I know that she's done her best. Her best hasn't always been great, and sometimes it was shit, but that's okay too. I forgive her.

I forgive the past me, for not treating herself correctly and for losing herself into all the fear and the anxiety and self-loathing.

I forgive present me for all the things she should be doing right now, and isn't.

I forgive future me for not being who I hope she will be.

It's okay that I'm not who I thought I would be. I have me, after all, and that's all I really need, isn't it ? I may not be up to my daydream me standards, but at least I'm real, and I've kept myself alive until now, so I'm not doing so bad.

Good job, me.

And thank you.