content warning: post is filled with sarcasm, ugly feelings reiterated, and unnecessary emphasis on vague words. maybe a little bit of my edgy creative self but definitely, not poetic. this entry does not cross the author's TMI-shared rule so feel free. xx
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Dear suffering and you,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I think so far, so nervous. And definitely not good. I had to take a break like really, take a breather for about a week. It was all mock courage and braveness until I woke up from my summer dream, that I am going to college anytime soon. It's hard to ignore the pressure, like how I ignore my shouting calendar because of those days that I missed when I'm supposed to be writing an update. Not when it's in my nose every day. The burden of being pressured, anxious, and scared is all over me. I was almost certain that I tasted blood on my lips having to hear about my friend's first day at college. It's nerve-wracking. No other perfectly made word bring life to what I felt weeks before the start of my school year. Earth-shattering? Oh, close. But really, at this point, I care less about what was gonna happen to the world because I'm in my phase, once again, where I have to be stronger than my sanity hanging by a thread. My shield should be thicker than earth's crust, if possible, mighty heavens. Kind of a hopeless case scenario, you know the likes.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀So I took a break because it's taking a toll on my two-faced alter ego, one that tells me legality should be cooler than your embarrassing high school moments by now. But clearly, it's not what I thought it was. I can say that with the way I am writing this in a diary-like manner with so many anxious words overflowing my mind. Legal and free is not it. I think I might have missed a chapter in my life orientation that says being eighteen is growing up and chewing terrifying gums. Instead of how a kid wishes to be old in that instance.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I know I might be panicking or more than that. Maybe my late ancestors would have swallowed immune pills because embarrassment is being under piles of blankets and a comforter with a pillow that never recovered from ricocheting weird crystals from my eyes. Of course, I did that, it's part of me taking a breather. Also having to stare at my ceiling, eat breakfast like it's a newly mastered skill, take a deadly bath, drain my battery from watching movies that might fly me to space, getting lost in fast-paced e-books because I'm dead for bigger plots, and constantly worrying about my major that I thought I escaped from in 12th grade. But here we are, fate has it that I'm doomed for the rest of my days.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I hope this entry sounds like an effective break because I'm willing to take another month, you know? If it isn't. Anyone might be willing to rest. Especially me, no one can deprive me of my right to sleep, not my Statistics class, despite that...I stay up late for no absolute reason these days. Well, these days. But still, I'm a grateful human to ever exist for having graduated from my subject last year 'Shutting Down Even When You Don't Want To 101' because that's the only genuine sleep I get to have in times like this. I'm so proud of myself for developing this univocal talent I might have to depend on when I'm bombarded with corporate emails not very far from now.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I almost forgot this sense of pride I have in my skin when I'm lost not because of what I'm bound to achieve, but because of just writing. Academic write-ups sure gave security to my place in society and my parent's house, but it's not as close as escaping. Diary, do you know what this feels like? Of course, you do. But here's the not-like-a-revelation point, I'm almost at the edge of quitting again for good. It is not dramatic but a stupid thought I could ever arrive at, I know. It's just that I want to be this person I need to be because otherwise, I'll sink. And I hate to say this but I'm not going back to my writer's block era, because that's sickening than having to think of a proper hypothesis for a psychological situation I'm not supposed to be conducting months from now. I think I tattooed on my forehead that I got to finish a piece 4-3 times a week but I flushed that down the drain uh...two weeks ago. So great.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But yes, here we are again. Fate has it that I'm going to reattempt seven thousand times just so I could not lose the other half of me. Life-changing! Or threatening, perhaps because 4 digits of attempt are just...awful and another pill of immunity? What do you say? You meant consistency. And love out of your labyrinth.
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It's been good to have someone to say these words, you know. A million little tugs from the heart when I get to the end of what I thought I could never start with. Now, how's my anxious inner child?
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I guess I will do just fine.
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Yours and forever,
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Arques Wuhdrelis ♡♡
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@rks.wuhdrelis
A warrior of liberty. With ink stains on her mind and soul. Maayong adlaw! This page contains the information you might want to know about the author. She goes by the name Arques and is under the username @rks.wuhdrelis. She lives in Cebu, Philippines, and is a proud Bisaya. She is a listener of music and is currently drowning in the rhythm of her pop-punk playlist. And she reads too, either depressing or hilarious books. Words from MJ, btw.
Arques is an 18-year-old girl, on a mission to her dream college and a writer wannabe is her reputation. There's a thin line between writing and music that enthralls her mind to scribble every time she has a chance to. To write is to dream and to dream is to be free. Except for nightmares, she believes so. She fancies writing prose poetries that is usually about childhood, life, love, tragedy, something peculiar, or even unnamed emotions. Stay tuned!
Her muse is Julia Choi from the K-POP girl group, ITZY. Images from this blog are retrieved from @itzy.all.in.us on Instagram.
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