Sunday, May 20, 2007

Big Brother is Directly Proportional to Life

They say that being real in life is nonetheless unrealistic. Redundant, isn't it? Like, if you want to get accepted in society, you have to be someone you're not, someone people would accept.

These days people wouldn't love you if you're not up for their standards. They wouldn't like you if you aren't as up to date as any cool person is. THEY WOULD NEVER LIKE YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE.

Sometimes I think that people who would love you for just being yourself can be counted right by my fingers. It's a 1 out of 10 result. If you're as poignant as me, you can definitely see through this life-being-unrealistic thing.

So, starting now, I would be the real me. Not that I want to get accepted and loved, but I want to prove to God that I'm back, and not in black.

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It makes me wonder why young people hurry themselves when it comes to love. Take me, for example. As a 15 years and 364 days old, I can say that I've fallen in love a couple of times. But to some grown-up's perspective, that's still not love.

What would happen then if we take everything slow? Well, we can focus more on the good than the bad. Like our studies, and our families. When you're in love, you would always tend to see the worst things in life. That makes love as superficial as any moron would be.

Love is addicting. It's a feeling you would always want to have. It's a good thing you would always want to have and give. Perhaps the only thing we can only give and have.

The butterflies like it when we're in love, isn't it? They would always fly in loops and circles in our stomach everytime we would think "Blahblah loves me..." or "I love blahblah so much". But I think those butterflies would be flying more when you put in love in the waiting. In my case, being in love distracts me so much, I would always swoon when I'm bored. Ah, teenage love.

But whatever. It's my life anyway. Not yours.

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What's with my birthday that I would always feel oh-so depressed whenever it's just around the corner?

My day of birth makes me realize my mistakes. It makes me look upon the bad I've done for the whole year I've wasted. It makes me ponder on everyone I'd restlessly hurted while growing up to be the shitface that I am now.

On the side, I was stabbed by my conscience last night. And for the first time ever in 3 months, I cried. Like a baby. And in front of God.

There are many so many things I felt sorry for. One of them is being so insecure in life. Being insecure is senseless. It would just make you so depressed and repressed.

I thank God last night for giving me a very challenging 15th year of birth. I've experienced a lot of downs, and little ups. But Monica's friend was right. Every problem you would be encountering is given by God, by which He has a purpose. Everything is rational after all. I was created by God to not be depressed about my weight or how dumb I am. I was not created to search for that mature guy who would fall in love to a fat-ass like me. I was not created to do things I shouldn't do.

On the perfect contrary, I was furthermore created to be me.

I was right all along. But then I turned for the wrong.

What a dumb move.

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Monica asked me yesterday what I want for my birthday. GAH. She's like, the 5th person to ask me that already. And to tell you guys the truth, I don't really know what the fucking hell do I really want.

I'm probably growing more mature every day. I stopped wanting and wishing for materialistic things, but focused more on those stuffs THAT I REALLY WANT.

Turns out I don't really want anything. I'm not rich, but I feel like one. Beats me, I'm feeling pretty weird too.

And good Lord, I don't want love. Love would hurt my feelings. And I have to stop the homily about Love again.

And you know what? I'm contented after all.

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This is my last post as a 15-year old.

Nothing. Just want to have a sentimental ending.

NOT.

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