Involuntary Actions

It's been more than a year since the last time I wrote on this platform. And this made me think of the reasons why I haven't been writing as often as I used to for the past year, when writing was (and I guess still is) one of my best therapy sessions. A personal one, at least. I guess it never bothered me anymore to write or, generally speaking, express my thoughts and opinions to the world (even though this platform isn't the world). Anyway, I might know one of the reasons, I guess.

For the past year, most of the time now, I am already used to being called stupid. My actions are stupid, what I say mostly are stupid, I am stupid. However in this case, I am not academically speaking. My friends call me stupid most of the time for the course of my actions, and I've been called that a lot I started believing it myself. Well, I actually am stupid. And by stupid I think I am acting impulsive involuntarily. And it's getting often now that it's bothering me, too.

Most of the time I would say or do something involuntarily, which I would regret afterwards. A lot of these actions involve my friends, too, and because of my involuntary actions, they would be pissed at me. This made me think a lot. Why did I say that? Why did I do that? If I didn't make that decision wouldn't have everything been better by now? 

There was this one time I strolled around a mall by myself, and I walked into a toiletry store famous for its beautiful scents. I looked around the scented candle section and found, of course, a wide variation of beautiful scented candles. As I smelled these scented candles, I came across one that smells of fresh flowers, which instantly reminded me of my best friend. She had her birthday just about two days before that, and she would have a birthday celebration after. I wanted to buy that candle for her, because she loves scented candles and also fresh flowers. The point is, I just wanted to buy that candle for her because it's just really her. But then I contacted my friends in a group chat we created (for the planning of her birthday surprise) and asked if they wanted to join me on buying that candle for her, because if they didn't want to, I would still buy it for her under only my own name. They mostly were like, "Whatever, Gab, do whatever you want.". Of course I bought that candle. 

A few days later when we've given our gift to her, and we were alone without her, one of my friends just sarcastically said that we could've given her something else, or wait, we could've given her that candle she wanted from that specific store (not the store I bought it from)! Well, but anyway, Gaby's made an impulsive decision already so what could we do?

When she said that, I was just thinking about it. Why did I make such an impulsive decision? It's not difficult to think about my actions in the long term, so why was I really... Stupid? It's just getting too often that I made impulsive decisions and do things involuntarily that it would cause an effect on other things and other people. Maybe my friends are right, that I am stupid, and for that I recently just agreed and stayed quiet to think before I do something to be regretted. If that means to be mocked stupid over and over again even though they were just joking around, well I guess so be it. They'd rather have me stay quiet and nod when they mock me rather than saying something really brutal but then being mocked again for angrily protesting them and hurt their feelings, right?

But like they said, the hardest parts in life are the ones that actually would make you a real learning person. So I guess having them do this to me probably is making me a person, too. But anyway, what I wanted to say in the beginning was that maybe this was one of the reasons why I stopped writing my mounting thoughts and feelings. Because I'm used to keeping my feelings to myself and just nod along, and I can't tell anyone else how I feel about them really just being like this to me. I know they're just joking around on me and they've been really awesome and kind and they're just there for me, but being this way kind of stressed me out. 

Anyway, maybe this is a lesson for me to stop doing everything without thinking about it for the long term first. This is also a lesson for me not to take impulsive decisions, and, just think about everything else before I do things.

Oh and by the way, I wrote about this post on my phone the night before and the blogger app was really shitty. I was ready to post this and it couldn't be posted, so I have this reflex of pressing the cancel option, and it was gone. My whole writing was gone, and that writing was less emotional than this one and it was definitely more controlled. This writing felt emotional and quick (because I've written this before and I just feel the need to get it out there so I needed to repeat it), but it wasn't as good as the original writing. And that also makes me feel emotional.

Good night x

Died Flowers

I don't know what changed, maybe I did or maybe everyone else just goes with the flow but I'm stuck on trying to make everyone else laugh on my jokes and it eventually dies down. I don't know what changed, maybe they found no more interest in me and I feel empty from not being searched for anymore and not being loved as a close friend like I used to be. It still matters, trying to make my close friends laugh to my jokes or just simply notice I am always there with them. It still matters until I feel like it almost doesn't anymore, like I'm just another one of those annually thrown-out-of-the-group annoying girls we 'threw', annually since seventh grade. My closest friend since sixth grade ditched me for her phone, I was never that close to my other two friends, and the other one who I shared secrets with also distanced away, but at least not so much. At least she still appreciates me. I don't feel like being one of them anymore, I don't even know why I ever was in the first place. Was it just a bond over the same acquaintance, forced by the universe in a join everyone else is scared of? I don't even feel like that. I don't even know what I want anymore. 

The point is, my friends don't feel like they're my friends anymore, and who knows what changes or what shifted in our plates of our little strong-bonded called universe, but it changed. And I feel it deep to my soul. And it hurts, you know. It hurts that they don't look for me, they don't even notice if I was there or not, and they just don't care. Maybe I'm being harsh on these words and I'm overreacting, as my closest friend would say that I'm too pessimistic. There isn't any denial in that state she gave. But really, I am tired on being pushed around, having to please everyone else, but if I stayed quiet they all think I'm mad. I'm tired of everyone thinking of that. These days I feel like I want to disappear into another life, and just try to start over everything, not fuck it up like I always did. I don't know if I did or if it's just a change in our little universe, but like I said, it had changed. But if there's a question about what will I do then, I won't know what the answer is, either. 

Rant

I used to write stories with my wandering imagination. Thoughts of places I had wished to live in, the life of the people I had wondered to live, what are their thoughts, what do they feel everyday? So I invented a fictional little life that was revolving around only in those papers. Honestly, writing felt like being God. God of this little life I was creating with black ink on blank white paper, and a touch of wild imagination. It was up to me what that life would be, how the people looked like, what their thoughts are. It was like magic, being lost in my living, but dead creation.

But I started to live real life, not that I lived a fake one before. I felt love, or at least I thought I felt it. It was a complicated thing, and when all my thoughts had been filled with only that one person, it felt magical and surreal. It was't quite unfamilliar, as I was easily attracted to guys even since before I still wrote my life-but-dead creation. But this was different. He filled my whole 24/7, and my imagination was almost replaced by thoughts of him, and of us. 

That was when I started to write poetry. All of my thoughts, that are now of him and us, all of my real feelings (this creator's feelings; not the feelings she created on her little life) were poured into the blank papers, stories replaced by poetry. Even when I was mad, or filled with lust, or having other unnamed complicated feelings (e.g.: wanting to be one with the sea, feeling the pull of the waves, that feeling when you look at the gray sky [but it wasn't sad], the relaxed feeling of listening to electronic indie music, etc.), I write. But I write poetry, and it is my activity closest to therapy. 

I don't know if my ability to write imaginative stories and life plots is still there, but I am comfortable now in writing poetry about my real feelings. 

Because I personally think poetry doesn't have to make sense. Call me stupid, but great poets write linguistic complicated poetries which I don't recall to understand, and therefore makes it non-understandable: it doesn't make sense. It makes sense to other people who have a high rate of intelligence, but to us teenagers? It doesn't make any sense.

So when I write poetry, as long as it expresses how I feel: possibly too tired / angry to think, which resulted in poetry with no metaphors, just straight thoughts at the time, or vice versa, then it is poetry to me. Because I don't write poems in terms of other people's enjoyments in my writing, no. I write poems as a a way to express how I feel, in my own words, and being so much more free. Freedom to speak; in this case, to write. 

But overall, all I was trying to say is that I love literary. Not the heavy ones, just the light ones. Literary is my therapy, perhaps the thing that keeps me sane everyday. The kind of literary I am interested in nowadays, as you have read, is in poetry. But I used to write stories, and even now I am writing a rant about my love in literary. Well, cheers.