Healing: dream

Being able to recover from something and move on, it’s a wonderful feeling. The healing process is a vital part in us maturing as human beings. A lot of it starts with forgetting about what it is that hurt us to begin with, specifically that pain. Yet, you still need to keep the lesson learned from whatever hurt you in mind. It could be that certain people are not good people, or be less naive, but whatever the lesson is, know what needs to be learned. Secondly, while keeping that newly learned moral in the back of your head, move on with your life. It might mean cutting off old parts of your life, but you need to do it, or else you could very easily revert to old, harmful habits that could cause you a lot of pain and possibly, cause you to revert to self-inflicting tendencies. That is the biggest emotional hurdle in the healing process is cutting off the past and forgetting about it.

The next part of the healing process is filling your life with new things to replace the old. They don’t have to be similar things. Preferably, they shouldn’t be similar things. Anything that reminds you of your past pain, that’s just asking to be triggered. Being able to do that, it also helps you forget the past a lot easier. You’re able to let go and not think about whatever horrible influences have hurt you. And while cutting off is the biggest challenge emotionally, this part is the most difficult part mentally is putting the past behind you. You are probably used to a certain routine, and you want to revert to it. You probably wouldn’t want to include new things into your life and you yearn for the past. Very few people are naturally good at adapting to and accepting change. And that’s to be expected. We can’t all just be okay to uprooting our daily routines. But being able to accept the change, even in small steps, it helps.

By allowing these new influences into your life, you can expel a lot of the negative emotions that have been burdening you earlier. You stop thinking about those dark thoughts, or about the causes of them. Instead, every day becomes a new opportunity for you to discovery something new about yourself or the world around you. You start to find yourself smiling a lot more, and while you know that this world is a little less wonderful than you remember it being, the parts that are genuinely wonderful that you discover makes that journey worthwhile. Being able to see the good in the world, it’s refreshing. Whether it’s new people, new hobbies, new places, you’ll surprise yourself with how much this world has to offer, despite whatever it was that hurt you in the first place. You stop thinking about the guilt, the pain, the trauma, and it helps you focus on future and what you can do as an individual to make the most of yours.

Being able to completely cast your past behind, it’s not easy. Those wounds from your trauma, they do become scars, but with time, you will forget what exactly gave you those scars exactly, but you will still vaguely remember how you got them, and what you can do to prevent yourself from falling into the same mistake again. The world will no longer feel like a cage or trap confining you, and it will open itself up to you. You are no longer being held down or back by those negative influences and burdens. Instead, you can focus on making the person you see in the mirror somebody you can love more and more. And once you reach that point of loving yourself, don’t stop there. Find new things about the world, and figure out what new things you love as well, and how you can work towards incorporating that newfound passion or interest into your life. With healing, you gain depth and character and that’s a life worth living in this featherlight world.

Advertisements

innocence

A little gir, resting underneath a sky littered with cherry blossoms. She had nearly no recollection of her life before sleeping here. There was only one memory: an elderly man, whispering to her. “I’m so sorry.” He apologies in a hushed, croaked tone. He cut her loose of his tight embrace, as she fell. Walking through the pink hills, the girl felt awestruck. The pristine trees, pure ivory park and light, heart-shaped flowers that fluttered through the wind, it was a sight to marvel at. The girl felt like these flowers, they resonated with her. Looking at them, she felt hope, joy, and for some reason, guilt. Seeing these flowers gently glide past her. She could sympathize with their descent from the heavens. But unlike these fallen petals, the girl knew she could continue moving. She felt almost ashamed, as if she was leaving these delicate flowers behind. Being able to move forward, it seemed like something she was not supposed to be doing. Like her, small and untainted in the beginning, before being released, displaced, dirties, and discarded. She knew, deep down, that her innocence was sullied on her way here. Despite not knowing why, she knew that her past was a fall, but her future was a rise.

cracked heart

Our love did not exist. What we had was an illusion. A lie. We tried to be there for each other. Simply but, we were bad together. We hurt each other. We convinced ourselves that we needed each other. But you deceived me. Behind my bcd, you told others how you rely felt. My confidence, my self-esteem, I sacrificed those to be your friend, your confidant. I gave up my dignity. How foolish I was, to do that for anybody. I refused to think that I was in the wrong. I committed every thought and concern to your safety and happiness. Or so what I incorrectly perceived it to be. But you are not worth my love and trust. SOmeone who treated me like a monster in my moment of vulnerability. Somebody so insensitive, entitled, and immature. You do not deserve my attention. You do not deserve my focus. You are a waste of my time. Please do me a favor, and go away. Treat yourself like how you treated me. Maybe then you will understand how much of a brat and coward you were. Stop trying so hard to be the victim of this situation. You really are a disappointment of a human being. I am embarrassed to think that I let somebody like you hurt me. Somebody with such a cracked heart.

Road Movie: Chapter 8

“Hi, you must be Dakota. I’m Jessica. Phillip’s mother.” A woman with round, brown eyes and long dark hair smiled softly at her. “Huh?” The brunette looked around. The two of them were sitting in a cafe, overlooking the lake. “So, Dakota, I hear you were going out with my little Philly.” She rested her chin on her hands as she continued to look at the girl. Dakota shuddered, feeling her gaze. It was as if Mrs. Hopkins examining her every movement, judging her decisions, reactions, personality. As somebody who disliked being marginalized, Dakota felt incredibly uncomfortable and vulnerable. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I am. We’ve been dating for quite a while now.” She began. She felt strange about this entire situation. The last thing she remembered was that she was in a car with Phillip. So this had to be a dream, right? But the woman sitting across from her, she definitely resembled Phillip; Dakota had never seen what Phillip’s mother looked like, because Phillip refused to show any pictures to her. For Dakota, this was the first time interacting or meeting Mrs. Hopkins ever crossed her mind.

Dakota recalled what meeting Mr. Matthew Hopkins was like. Since Phillip had met Dakota and her parents at their house, they decided to have a huge family dinner with the five of them. Mr. Hopkins and Mr. Logan immediately got along with each other. Both of them were blue collar workers, the former working in a power plant as an engineer and the latter working as a plumber. Mr. Hopkins took a liking to Dakota, mostly because of how polite yet openminded Dakota was; she was able to talk to Mr. Hopkins about football and athletics, much to his delight. Since Phillip was so busy in academics, he never really did sports beyond the two year minimum, where he did football, but had no intentions of making a full career out of it. It was that dinner, during their senior year of high school, where Dakota and Phillip truly felt as if they could one day have a happy family like this of their very own.

It started to dawn on her that this entire interaction should not even be possible. “Wait, who are you?” The woman sitting in front of her could not actually be Phillip’s mom. “I am Jessica Hopkins. The mother of your girlfriend. I died when Phillip was in middle school.” She answered, not even breaking her stare. “Wait, there’s no way that this could be real. This has to be a dream.” Dakota got up in disbelief. Mrs. Hopkins was long since dead. She should not be alive, interacting with the brunette. Dakota had never even met Mrs. Hopkins. She was conflicted. Either this was a dream, and the women before her was Dakota’s image of Mrs. Hopkins, or the woman was pretending to be Mrs. Hopkins. It was overwhelming and difficult to keep track of. Trying to back away, Dakota felt her legs freeze in fear. What was going on? She was paralyzed, shaking helplessly. “A coward like you is unworthy of my son. You are not the kindhearted girl he deserves to be dating.” She spat, glaring at her. “I will be taking him back from you. Your time with him is over.” Dakota’s heart sank at that statement. It was too much to hear for her. She could not believe the words she was hearing.

“Dakota? Dakota!” Phillip shouted. The brunette groggily opened her eyes. “10 minutes left!” He smiled at her. “Oh really?” She smiled at him. “Yup.” She started to recall her dream and felt worried. “Phillip, what was your mom’s name again?” “Jessica. Jessica Hopkins. Why are you asking?” He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “I had a dream. I met your mom in it. She was beautiful. She had your eyes.” She began. “Oh, wow. That’s what a lot of people said to me.” He froze hesitantly. “Where did you see her? Wait, did you snoop through those old pictures?!” There was definitely a sound of panic in his voice. “No, I swear! I said it was a dream! I met her in a cafe by the lake. It was beautiful. But I got freaked out. I wasn’t sure if it was actually her, or if I was being trolled, since she was supposed to be dead. And she did not take well to how I reacted.” She admitted, trying to make sense of what just happened while also attempting to calm down the wound up Phillip. “What did she do?” It seemed to be working. “She said that I was not worthy of being your girlfriend.” Dakota sighed nervously. “Not worthy of being my girlfriend? Well, everything up until that sounded like my mother, but I’m not sure about that last bit you just said about being unworthy.” He chuckled.

“My mom wouldn’t have made a comment like that to my girlfriend, and I know for a fact she would have loved you. You’re a really caring, selfless, and kind person, Ducky. And if she saw how much you meant to me, she would not even care if you were a Satanist or serial killer. She would accept you for who you are.” He grinned reassuringly. “Thanks, Philly cheesesteak. But I have another question.” The brunette looked at him, half nervously. She was not sure what sort or response to anticipate. “What’s up?” “Why did you not want to show me pictures of your mom, or even really mention so much as her name or what she was like to me?” “Dakota, my mom represented my past. Being with you, it represented my present and my future. Hearing you say it now, yeah, you definitely deserve to know about my mother, but I was so caught up in growing up with you that I guess I forgot.” He admitted sheepishly. It was embarrassing to realize that he never really considered Dakota’s feelings or thoughts in the manner, even after all of those years.

“Okay, so I’m going to get off here.” Phillip signaled his right turn light. He needed to get off the  highway so that he could turn into the theatre. “Wait, Phillip! Look out!” Dakota screamed. A blinding white light flooded the car and the blaring sound of a truck’s horn filled the highway. Everything went silent. There was a flashing red, and then a blackness. “Phillip?” Dakota weakly groaned. She could not really move her head; the car chair had come unhinged and toppled over her. The car had flipped upside down from the collision. The brunette’s body suddenly seized up. She could feel herself gaining that same freezing sensation she had earlier in her dream. Her heart felt like it was going to stop beating. A dizziness took over, and her eyes slowly closed, as a blackness clouded her vision. A sound siren could be heard from a distance as people were gathered around the turned over car, nervously watching.

Sky Bird: Chapter 15

“Okay, are you guys ready?” It was Monday afternoon, and Kendall, Megan, Sophia, Carly, and Fanny were in the SLS Hotel in Beverly Hills, filming some of the scenes of their movie project. Sophia was wearing an elaborate chut thai, which is an outfit in Thai culture made of a variety of cloths and sashes. “Yes! Can we please hurry? I borrowed this from my grandma and I don’t want to ruin it!” Sophia was nervous for several reasons; she was wearing a family heirloom in public and she hated being recorded. “Okay! 4, 3, 2.” Fanny turned on the camera. The scene was that Sophia was checking into her hotel room, and Megan and Kendall were going to come across her; Fanny’s character in the movie, his father owned the hotel, while Kendall and Megan were supposedly exploring it out of curiosity. “Oniichan! Sono hito wa Ngam Thaimee-samadesu, ne?” Megan looked at her brother excitedly. “Hontou ni Ngam Thaimee-sama, da!” Kendall tried to act as surprised as he could; acting unfortunately was not one of his strong suits. Essentially, their exchange translated to them being excited about seeing Thaimee Ngam, Sophia’s character. “Ngam-sama! Hajimemashite! Watashi wa Howards Elenadesu!” Megan bowed as she introduced herself; her character was named Elena Howards. “Hajimemashite. Boku wa Howards Gregorydesu. Elena-chan wa boku no imouto-chan.” Kendall, going by the name of Gregory Howards, introduced himself as Elena’s older brother. “Alright. Looks like we’re good here.” Fanny smiled. “Good job, you guys! And Sophia, you are killing it in that outfit!” Carly cheered her teammates on.

“Ugh, thank god! I can wear pants again.” Sophia sighed in relief, finally changed. They finished filming all of her scenes wearing the chut thai that day, so that they can return her outfit. “You did wonderful, Sophia!” Carly smiled. “Yeah, you and Megan honestly should apply for Advanced Theatre Arts.” Fanny agreed. “Kendall, on the other hand…” He looked over at the other male. “Shut up. I’m not an actor and I never will be.” “It’s okay, Kendall. You had to have lines in the movie, so you’re doing your best. Thank god he’s not grading on acting ability.” Fanny sighed in relief. “That’s probably the nicest thing he’s ever said to you!” Megan laughed at Kendall. “It’s sad because it’s true.” The Chinese boy snickered in agreement. “Ugh, you’re lucky you’re dating my best friend.” Kendall crossed his arms, ignoring all urges to punch him in the face. “Alright, so we’re done for filming today. I’m going to go do edits, but everyone, keep up the good work!” Fanny grinned, grabbing his tripod and heading to his car.

“I’m feeling so good about our project.” Megan looked at Kendall as he was driving the two siblings back home. “Yeah, we better not get an F after all the work we put into this.” Kendall, Megan, Sophia, and Carly all put in a lot of working doing the script while Fanny was in charge of editing and recording. “Well the plot is good, we all worked on the script to make sure that we had all of the grammars, and I think we are all doing a good job.” Megan admitted. “There isn’t a weak link in our group, and that’s a lot better than my English group.” She chuckled; they were studying the Italian Renaissance currently and had to do so in groups. Unfortunately for her, Megan was stuck in a group not only without Chloe, but also with people who have been consistently poor writers in the class. “But you just need to learn to roll with the punches, right?” She looked at Kendall, who was probably an expert at that. “Yup. Life might deal you a crappy hand, but you just need to learn how to play it right.”

“Kendall!” Mrs. Skye called out from the hallway. “Yes, mom?” The brunette walked over to his parents’ room. It was already 9pm. “Can you do us a favor?” “Sure, what’s up?” “Your mom forgot to buy groceries for breakfast tomorrow. Can you please get those for us?” Mr. Skye called out. “Okay, sounds good.” The 16 year old grabbed his keys and walked out the the apartment. Getting into his car, the brunette got out his phone and typed in the nearest grocery store. “Ralph’s? Okay. Let’s go there.” Pulling his car out of the apartment garage, he left for the store. “Alright,let’s just pull up, and… we’re parked.” The brunette stationed his car in the parking area, and grabbed a grocery cart. “Alright, so eggs, bacon, bread, milk.” He listed off, walking through the sliding doors. “Kendall?” The brunette looked up to see Sophia, who was with a small boy, no older than 7 years old. “Sophia! And who is this?” The brunette referred to her companion. “Hi, Kendall! This is my little brother, Jesse.” “Hi. You’re that rocket guy, right?” He looked up. “Oh yeah, I am.” The brunette chuckled. “What are you doing here so late?” The Thai girl was perplexed to see him here. “I was getting groceries for breakfast. My mom forgot to grab them so I figured I’d help her out.” “Oh, I see. Jesse has to contribute to his school’s bake sale, and he forgot about it, so we’re here grabbing some cake mix for that.” “That sounds like fun. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Kendall looked at her. “Yup. See you!” “Have fun baking!” “Later, rocker guy!” The two waved as they walked back to Sophia’s house.

“Okay, that should cover everything.” Kendall was proud of himself. He managed to grab everything for breakfast, and he was already back in the apartment and just finished putting everything away. “Kendall, are you going to sleep soon?” A drowsy Gil yawned. Unfortunately, the kitchen was directly connected to their room. “Yeah, I’m going to bed now.” The brunette stretched his arms as he walked over to their shared room. “Good night, big bro.” Gil closed his eyes. “Good night, Gil.” Kendall went to bed as well. Today felt like it went by too quickly. Then again, soccer season was officially over, and his classes were a blur, with no tests or particularly challenging projects presenting themselves as hurdles to him. It looks like things are starting to look up for me. Kendall thought to himself sleepily. The best moments in life were the ones that we want to last longer. Drifting off to another dream, the brunette pondered how many more times he will experience that sensation. That wish for life to go just a little bit slower, so that he can savor these memories.

Everyone was lined up at the graveyard, dressed in all black. Surprisingly enough, it was a sunny day with clear blue skies and not a cloud in sight. Exactly the way Kendall’s grandfather would have preferred it to be. Kendall was dreaming about his grandpa’s funeral. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Darby Skye. Darby was a kind man. He served as a captain in the U.S. Air Force and was a celebrated aerospace engineer. He will be dearly missed. Darby will be lived on by his sons, Christian and Eric, and his daughters, Julie and Daphne, and their children.” An 8 year old Kendall sat there in the crowd, feeling numb. His grandfather had just taken him on a plane for the first time ever just a year ago, and then he died. A peaceful death, the nurses said. He went to sleep that night, and just never woke up. But it was fine. He was a widower anyways. Grandma died long before Kendall was born. At least grandpa will have somebody waiting for him on the other side of this. Somebody to welcome him with her warm embrace.

Mr. Skye was taking his father’s death surprisingly well. The father was more concerned about his own children’s feelings, rather than his own. “Everyone dies at some point. But it gives us more of a reason to live. Live for their sake. Live to carry out the hopes and dreams they had for us.” He explained to his three children. “Of course, I feel sad. He’s my dad. But if I were to get hung up and just be constantly sad about him passing away, then he wouldn’t be happy. Neither would my mom be, seeing me like that. I have to keep living my life and making a brighter future for you kids, for their sakes.” Gil and Megan were both trying not to cry still, but Kendall understood where his father was coming from. It’s understandable to have human emotions. It’s expected. But getting too caught up in them, it wouldn’t make the recently lost happy. They can’t just succumb to the downward spiral that is depression. That’s what the older 16 year old Kendall would later be able to vocalize with his advanced vocabulary. At that point in time, he understood the concept, but to the best effect that a 3rd grader could.

Kendall’s grandfather had always been a kind man. Whenever he would visit, Kendall would be excited; his grandfather would tell him about his stories as a pilot, and how exciting it was to be free. To soar like a bird. At first, Kendall was curious about this sensation, having never experienced it himself. But when he finally got to fly on the jet with his grandpa, he finally understood what it meant to be free. The sensation of flying, it was surreal. That feeling in your gut, as if something is pulling you up. Then you can sense the acceleration, as if you are becoming one with the wind. And then when you reach a certain point, your problems are so far below you that you can only think about one thing, and that’s feeling free to explore the world around you. To capture that experience and allow anyone and everyone to feel it, that was his goal. He wanted to help humanity soar in that big blue sky. The first plane he ever builds, Kendall plans to name it “Darby” in honor of his grandpa.

Snow Prince

A boy, a prince whose heart was as cold as ice. His knight, whose will had melted that ice. Together, they lived, deep in the mountains. The snow polluted the air with its soft white touch. Leaving the mountains, it felt impossible. But the knight attempted it. He wanted to escape. The boy waited in the citadel, yearning for his knight’s return. The knight, the only person who could break through that ice which weighed down the snow prince’s heart. The prince would cry, feeling the sadness overcome his heart. He missed his knight. He needed his warm embrace to extinguish the cold. His knight had left to find a cure to the boy’s cold heart. But the prince only needed his knight to thaw that sorrow. His knight was his medicine, he convinced himself. No, that was the frost talking, lying to the boy. Forcing himself to believe that his knight would return and that his knight was all he needed. He shook off these idiotic urges, thoughts, and feelings. It was becoming increasingly clear to the boy. His knight was terrified and scared off. The cold had driven the boy past the brink of madness and despair. Running out of the citadel, the boy never looked back. He ran into the distance, through the snow and mountains. He was determined to find his knight. Determined to make right what he did and said wrong. His only cure, what he needed to thaw this cold, was forgiveness for his delusion. Redemption from his own mistakes.

Dear diary: dream 19

We all have secrets we would like to bury somewhere. As children, we had diaries and journals. As adults, well, it depends. Some people get psychiatrists, others, book clubs, some like me get anonymous blogs. Basically, we want to keep our secrets a secret, but we also need to appease the urge to blurt them out. When I think about all of the secrets I have kept over the years, it does get tough to keep them all hidden. But I have seen somebody else who had to swear a lot of conflicts to secrecy, and as a result, he internally broke down. I tried to do the same, but it got harder and harder as time progressed. I didn’t want to keep those aspects of me a secret any longer.

The idea of secrets, I just wonder why we need to have them. Why can’t we be open about our lives? Granted, I should be able to answer that rhetorical easily, given that I am writing from behind an alias. A digital mask, keeping anyone from knowing who I really am…hopefully. We keep secrets for several reasons. We want to protect somebody else or spare their feelings, we don’t want to be judged or labeled for our actions or mistakes, generally it all comes down to us not wanting to hurt somebody, whether it be someone else or ourselves.

I wish this was a world where we did not have to keep those secrets bottled up. Yes, I have had an eating disorder, tried killing myself twice, and had sex with a stranger almost twice my age a week after turning 18, but if I said those things in real life, people would judge me. People would tell me that I am a psychotic whore. But those were my secrets. Those were the things I had to keep bottled up for years and years. But I will say them now. I have a digital mask on anyways, so there are hardly as many consequences. Granted, should you find out who I really am in real life, then I will embrace the fact that I did those things, because those secrets or mistakes, they have made me stronger and smarter. Plus, that 30 year old was a total 10, so you know, another notch under my belt.

My sadness from being betrayed by friends repeatedly, regrets for having so an anti-social adolescence, these are all things that I would have written about if I had a diary. My dreams of opening a bakery, of finding true love, starting a family, again, all things I would have written about. Dear diary, you have become this blog. I continue to write about a world that would be ideal for me. A world where secrets did not have to be buried in a journal and pages. Where secrets just don’t exist. It is a naïve wish, but I would love to live in this open world of my feather-light dreams.

Sentimentalism: realization 12

This is probably one of the biggest reasons why I fall into depression. I get too sentimental for my own good. And it always happens during my senior year of school, be it high school or college. Whenever I have great memories from the years before, and not knowing where my future lies, it causes me to rely on those old memories to keep me going. And naturally, while I am hung up on the past, everyone else is moving on with their lives. I can’t move forward, because I am trying too hard to cling on to good memories that are drifting further and further away. This stems back to my biggest fear, being abandoned and forgotten. Since I cannot move forward, the entire world is naturally leaving me behind. And I am stuck living in the past.
The biggest reason I get sentimental is because I am too scared about what comes next in my life. The next big chapter, the huge question mark that is my future. Obviously, it won’t be as bad once I am on the other side, no matter where I wind up, but that sort of anxiety causes me to feel isolated. Those good memories are the only thing that I feel are keeping me from completely breaking down. Or so I thought. In reality, me relying on those good memories, plus me trying to avoid my uncertainty, it keeps me from being able to take that leap into my future, or at the least, treat the moments leading up to it like every other day.
When I become too sentimental, I basically fall into this state of relying too much on the past, looking too into previous actions of those around me. It does cause me to appreciate people more, but unfortunately, it comes off in the creepiest and most unsettlingly way possible. Twice now have friends who have been subjected to me in this state have thought I had romantic feelings for them. But it all stems back to me wanting to reciprocate the consideration they have given me over the years, by being so sentimental. Again, this is not okay behavior. I am not proud of the fact that I did this, because I just could not let it go and move forward with my life.
My biggest fear is being left behind, but ironically, my crutch or solution to my second biggest fear, which is uncertainty, just feeds into it. I am being left behind because I couldn’t let go of the past, accept my present, and move forward into my future. Well, not before causing me to lose countless friendships associated with the memories I relied on to get me through my doubts and uncertainties. The only way thus far that I managed to remove this reliance on sentimentalism was to sever my ties with the people I loved, and with that, I had nothing left to be sentimental about. This is not a good habit either. I need to ultimately accept my present and walk into my future, not holding onto the past at all. That is the only way I can become feather-light.