Posted in Personal Blogging

An Update

Hello strangers from the internet.

This is not an excuse. This is an update.

A very small update.

So, March has been absolutely kicking my ass in a way I did not see coming. Mostly I know it’s all in my head. But the problem of having something in your head is that it distorts your view of the world and it feels like it’s real. Even more so if there’s vague but undeniable evidence of it being sort of real.

Yeah, I know what Dr. Strand would say, Apophenia “the tendency to perceive a connection or meaningful pattern between unrelated or random things (such as objects of ideas)”(According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary). Oh, Dr. Strand is a character from the podcast The Black Tapes.

So, yeah… I’ve been feeling a bit down lately. I think most of it has to do with being back home and away from my friends.

Friends. What a funny word for someone who didn’t believe such a thing was even possible for the longest time.

I do believe I have friends now but… well, this is where the fucked up things in my brain try to mess everything up.

The thing is that I remember.

I remember what it was like to have long stretches of silence, only broken by unkind words. I remember what it felt like to be sitting in a room full of people, thinking, believing, that at least one of them was my friend, but no one talked to me. And I remember what it felt like when the person who shut me out, who ignored me and even talked about me behind my back, came back for me.

I remember what it was like, sitting there in the dark knowing that hers was the only hand I would ever get to hold. And I knew that she had power over me, that her hand was never freely given. I knew that her friendship had conditions (my silence and complacency chief among them).

And I remember liking it, and then not.

I remember harsh words, truths that had never being spoken. I remember the tears and the promise to never let this happen again.

Never again.

I remember how it felt to hold myself in a space so small it was a wonder that people could see me. But people who don’t like you can always see you. And they see right through you, right through lies and defenses, and they can hurt you.

I remember being hurt.

And I remember friendship like an alliance, a bond to keep each other afloat.

Nothing was ever sincere. We didn’t exist to share and be kind, but to form a shield against the world. But this friendship also had conditions (silence and pretenses).

We were okay.

To this day when we meet, we agree that we are okay.

But we were all made of different jagged pieces, and  I know that in another universe, without a broken heart I could’ve grown to love them… and maybe they could’ve loved me.

Friendship is not about who laughs with you, it’s about who laughs and then shares the world with you.

My world is terrifyingly small, plagued by shadows, and ghosts, and fears that not even I can understand.

I am terrifyingly small.

But I did make friends later on. I did share my world. And I gave myself away in between panicked breaths and broken pieces.

But I can still remember all that came before. I remember the tears and the pain, mistrust and being shut out. I remember thinking “Oh, this is how dogs feel, I guess.”

I remember she loved dogs.

And now I’m here, where present and past are being mixed together by a stupid brain.

I know it’s not the same but I still feel like somehow, I’m still the dog. Like you can talk to me, and call for me, and shut me out, and only pay attention to me when you please, and I’ll still be here.

I will always be here, because in this universe, in this broken version of myself I do love my friends.

And it’s not their fault, it’s mine. It’s my fucked up brain.

And I know (and hope) no one I know will ever read this, and that’s why I’m writing it here. I just wanted an excuse to be pathetic and pitiful, just this one time. Because when I talk things through, or say them aloud, they lose their power over me. Or, maybe I realize how silly I was being.

So, I guess this is my short essay of a life update: March is kicking my metaphorical ass, my friend (Jenna) is still mad at me, but I guess that is fine. I have to apply to a scholarship to be able to go away. My cousin is better than she was before. I have not self-harmed even though I wanted to. And I’m still looking for a job.






23-year-old writer from Chile. Currently reading, writing, and trying not to lose my mind.

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