Hello. I don't know who's gonna read this... or if anyone's  gonna read this... but I'm doing it anyway because I'm procrastinating and it's one of those days. If you don't want to read through a long- rant that gets mighty personal, then by all means, close this now because I'm not kidding when I say this gets personal... and very emo (for me, anyway) Parang MMK na to, guys. You might not cry but I already am so get ready for the ride. 

Welcome to my story. tbh, I may turn this into a fic and add my 'saucy spicy' flare into it, but that's just a thought. 

Again, welcome. 

To be honest, I never liked admitting my real feelings to anyone at all. Hell, I don't even do that to my mom. But... here I am, I guess. Just letting the tides flow and take me to wherever this leads. it, y'know?

To me, and maybe the majority of writers on this site, writing is a form of self-expression—a way of letting your true feelings out in a form of story where you can choose which path you can take. Will you make people laugh? Will you make people cry? Will you make people love or fall in love? Will you make people happy? 

Writing is a form of therapy for me. For those who don't already know, my main genre is romance comedy. I feel like the need to write romance came from the Filipino in me who are (kinda) known to be hopeless romantics that always feel giddy at even the sound of love. The comedy part... honestly though, I didn't know I was capable of that because all of the stories I wrote prior to fic writing were all fairly dark and serious. I may not have admitted it then but I knew wanting to make people smile and laugh came from an unconscious psychological part of me. 

Growing up and going through the (relatively) typical teenage depression, low self-esteem, and social anxiety, I was always in this state of negativity. I always looked at good things with skepticism and satire. I questioned the positive because my eyes had already seen reality. I'd watched people and observed them—seen the ugly that they hid behind their masks and all that detective bull. The world was filled with negative that was covered in a ruse of this forced positivity. 

I didn't like seeing the world so negatively and I wanted my brain to stop thinking like that but as always, easier said than done.

I got into AFF when I was in Grade 11. And though I enjoyed the drama genres, I always felt uplifted in the end whenever I read comedy. It always gave me a nice feeling. Even though it didn't last long, I treasured it—craved it. The absurdity of the stories that I read were so ridiculous that I just couldn't help the smile. It made me forget the negative view I always had. 

Because I enjoyed and thrived off that good feeling, I wanted others to feel the same way. I started writing comedy with a romance flare (because I just couldn't help have some lovin'). Though my first fic was a complete bust (and I had eventually scrapped and drafted into the abyss), my second one: The Timid Dragon and the Terrifying Butterfly resulted in my audience getting the good feeling that I wanted them to have. And seeing people read... seeing all those comments... first of all, I'm the kind of person who stalls whenever someone asks me when's the happiest I've been... but seeing people enjoy my story made me feel like the happiest person in the world. 

First time authors would share the same feeling. You'd get that initial rush of exhilaration. You hit a success! It's truly an awesome feeling. At my first days of TDTB, I kept reading the comments in class and failing to hide my smile. I'd never smiled so much in school but writing made that possible. I felt like I was on Cloud 9. 

But the point of this blog (or whatever this is) isn't about my happiness from the past. 

I didn't lie when I say writing is my form of self-expression and therapy. Some of the elements in my story may be too ridiculous to be true but parts of my real life are woven into that. You might not know it, but every story I wrote holds pieces of my heart, my feelings, my insecurities, and everything else. Writing helped me feel more confident in myself and it also helped me make friends by allowing the comedy that I had written take over me to make people laugh. 

The point of this is to help get through one of my biggest vulnerability. 

Loneliness. 

I know, right? Fun.

When I was 13, my family moved from the Philippines to live in Canada. I was already shy from the start and it only intensified to this form of isolationism because I felt like I was so different from the rest. Because of that, I only ever had a handful of friends... acquaintances, actually, since I never allowed myself to form a closer bond because I was too scared that they won't want to be my friends once they realized how different I am. 

There was one moment that I remember so vividly. It was the moment when I questioned if I really was worth it to my friends. I've lived in Canada for about two years by now and my family and I decided to go back to the Philippines for a little vacation. Excited to see my friends again, I went to my old school and was greeted by some former classmates. I was happy. They remembered me! I thought they would forget since none of them talked to my anymore after a month after I moved to Canada.

To be honest, that should've made me realize sooner. No one talked to me after I moved. I tried to get in touch with my best friends but suddenly, when they told their stories, I didn't know who or what they were talking about and they made it sound like it was chore for them to have to explain it whenever I asked to elaborate. We were drifting apart. It was only natural since I wasn't there and I didn't knew anything that was going on. 

I really should've just moved on but I couldn't. I was too attached. I missed them even if they might've not felt the same. This was my home. And I was happy to be back. I was happy and ignorant.  

I could see all their excited face when they saw me. We took pictures and hung out a bit in the cafeteria. I asked a group of my friends if we could hang out on the weekend, maybe watch a movie for old time's sake. They agreed eagerly and we all made plans. I was excited. I never hung out with friends outside of school before because my parents were too strict and they never let me out because they were too scared something might happen. 

Do you know that feeling when you invite your friends to your birthday party and no one shows up? Well, it wasn't my birthday and I didn't have a party but I got the gist of that feeling. 

There I was outside a crowded theater with my family waiting alongside me. I told them that I needed privacy and they promised they would leave when my friends came, and I was so thankful for that because I felt like I was being given freedom (however petty that sounded). So there I was, looking amongst the crowd to see if any of my friends came. My mom suggested that I buy the tickets already but I shook my head and just kept on looking over the throng of people. I didn't wanna buy it yet because I wanted us to do it together. I wanted to feel like we were going in this as one because we took our time lining up to see a movie that we'd all watch and enjoy. 

15 minutes had already passed at the time we were supposed to meet but I just shrugged it off, saying that it must be the traffic. When 30 minutes came, my texts to them sounded more desperate. "Where are you guys? I'm already here. I've been waiting... I'm just right here in front." But no one ever replied. 

When one hour passed my brother said that they're not coming and my mom gave me the sympathetic look. Again, I shrugged it off and stood my ground. Pain and humiliation was already swimming inside me at that point but I kept looking... hoping. I already had everything planned out. We'd watch a movie and after that we'd go to a fast food joint and eat, probably talk about what I've missed. After that we'll walk around in the mall and maybe shop. At the end of the day we would hug each other goodbye and promise to keep in touch. 

Two hours passed by and none of that happened. I was just left waiting outside the heather with my brother saying "I told you so" behind my ear while my parents silently consoled me, saying that they weren't worth it. It was a good thing I didn't buy tickets, I thought ruefully at myself. I never even saw a movie that day. Honestly I didn't care what movie we watched, I just wanted to enjoy my time with my friends.

I should've expected that disappointment to happen because this was the real world but I had hope that my friends would want to see me too. No one bothered to message me back. They didn't even bother to say goodbye when I told them I was leaving. In the end, I was just left with this numb feeling of failed hope and expectations. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want it to affect me. But it, it just hurt so much. I cried in the mall, letting the experience add on to why I needed to be wary about the world around me. 

It was just one thing but it affected me more than it should have. It may seem petty but that was it—my trigger. I thought I was going to be back to the girl I left in the Philippines—the friendly girl who could easily make friends in a couple of minutes. But I felt like when I took one step forward, it actually took my 20 steps back. I became worse. The trust and hope that I had in people doing what they said they'd do... doing what I hoped they'd do... vanished just like that. 

A couple of years had already passed since that incident but I still feel it creeping on me whenever I interact with my friends. Sometimes, I find myself unconsciously holding back voicing my thoughts or acting out what I want to because the back of my mind kept telling me "What's the point?" and "Do you think they'd care?". Because of that, I was stuck in this limbo or showing friendship and being indifferent. I didn't know how to act properly because I was trying to save myself from getting hurt and expecting too much from people. 

But in the end, no matter who it is and no matter what you do, people can and will disappoint you. Why? Because this is the real world and things don't always go to plan. 

There was a point that I just said it because this kinda mindset wasn't doing me any favors. So yeah, it. I let myself say what I wanted to say... but I only did that through writing to internet friends—some friends I met as my readers and some I met from god-knows-where. It was safer that way, I guessed. 

But I guess real friends and internet friends weren't really that different after all. It's like the past was happening again. I was telling them about me, baring my feelings and beliefs excitedly as if I'd never talked to anyone in my life. But then people were starting to drift away and suddenly we weren't talking. I wanted to talk to them and ask how they've been doing but I was too conscious now—conscious of what happened in the past. So I didn't talk at all. I didn't want to get my hopes up by starting a conversation I don't even know if they want from me. If they wanted to talk then they should start it. I was tired of getting hurt by my ignorant eagerness of making friends.

I was done. it, do what you want. 

At school, I'd never bared more than I had. I always kept my personal things in a safe distance and whenever I felt like we were getting to close, I'd unconsciously ignore them because I kinda wanted to make them feel that I had the power to leave and be by myself if they'd ever do the same. It was a toxic way of thinking but I was too cynical. Everyone seemed to have an ulterior motive now and I was just saving myself from getting fooled by the temporary feeling of what friendship gave. 

I was a mess. 

I never asked people to hang out. Never started a chat. Never initiated anything. I waited for them to do it because I'd show them that I they're worth my time. I was done believing that people thought the same for me so I was just this complacent girl that always waited. Whenever they'd cancel, instead of feeling sad, I was now always relieved because I didn't have to bother with people now. I could only ever rely on myself to make myself happy. I didn't want to think this way but I did. 

And thinking like that made me feel so alone. I was lonely but I didn't want to admit it because I wanted to rely only on myself. I didn't need anyone to be happy. 

But I did and I knew it. 

Now, as I'm in university, alone in my room, the pictures of me, my friends, and my family posted on my walls just keep reminding me how much I want to go back... how much I wanted to be surrounded by people. I was alone with all these smiling pictures of me and everyone else and it made me realize how truly depressing my life is when I'm all by myself. 

I wanted to go back to posing with my friends. I wanted to go back to taking family portraits. I wanted to go back to that smiling girl who just worried about petty and nonsensical things. 

I didn't want to be this cynical who thought so negatively of everyone. I didn't want to instantly think of the worst whenever I was in a situation with friends and family when there's commitments involved. 

I didn't want to be lonely. 

I had no one to share my happiness with because I was too scared that I'd overwhelm them if I bared my soul.

I just had me... but I didn't want it to be like that.

I just want to have friends. I was so tired ot being left alone and hanging with this expectant hope that they'd come back. No one every came back for just me. They only came back if they wanted something. 

As much as I hated it, I really was alone. 

I expected too much from people because I wanted to change my perception and think positively of them... but they just always prove me wrong. 

They left and I don't even have the heart or the strength to call them back because I'm too scared that they'd leave again—too scared of hurting myself over and over again. 

I don't want to be lonely anymore but people keep leaving.

I don't want people to leave. I don't want to push people away. 

I don't want to be scared. I just want to be happy. 

Maybe one day, I'll be happy. Maybe I'll show that I was able to get past this by writing about romance comedy about this. I'd bare my true feelings but people would still be happy in the end because that's how I wrote the story. I wanted people to enjoy it... to realize that my past struggle was gone and replaced by just a funny tale that I could look back on. Because every story is a part of me and in every story is a negative aspect in my life that I'd overcome. 

It's subtle but whenever I reread my stories, I do it with a smile because I know what lied behind it and it made me forget the negativity surrounding my mind. 

And even though I said that interacting with people was a bane of my existence, I just can't help it. I just want to talk to people... be friends... whatever... I just wanted someone to make me feel like I was worthy of their thoughts and time. Even now, I was still hoping that the people I interacted with would get this connection with me. As much as I wanted to restrain myself, my fear of loneliness trumped everything my independent self wanted to stand for. 

I was always happy when I talk to people but the creeping thought of abandon was still there and very much alive. I wanted to protect myself but I wanted to make friends with everyone. Maybe I'm just a masochist like that. 

I was my own cure but I was also my own poison. 

Maybe one day, I'll get there... we'll get there. I know I'm not the only one feeling lonely but someday, it'll pass. I don't know when and how but I just know it will. 

Someday, we'll be happy.