Side B

Can you keep a secret? Because I have a confession to make. 

This is hard for me. I'd appreciate it if this admission will stay between the two of us. I don't usually do this, but I guess it is high time that I acknowledge this version of me. So, here it is: I think less of myself more than what I admit to the world.

To put it simpler, I am insecure. I am this big ball of insecurity. I sure don't look like it, but I feel it. The insecurity gnaws my being. It sucks my awesomeness as a person. I know I should not feel that way or even think that way, but I am human, too. I have my own issues. 

People tell me that I am one of the most confident people they've met, that they are amazed by how I don't give a fuck about everyone's standards and norms, that blah blah blah. Sure, thanks. But here's the truth: that's just a facade.

I'd like to think that I am really all that and more, but every time I do so, the more I realize that I am just this pretentious, full of shit, annoying, and insecure girl (Yes, talk about self-pity.) The more I think, the more I realize that I've amounted to nothing (based on the society's standards or success) for the past years. I may only be saying this because I have achiever college friends, but I don't know. I am not comparing myself to them. It's just that, I want more for myself. Do I even make sense? I mean, where am I right now? Sure, I have many aspirations in life and for my future, but what am I doing with my life right now? What are these life choices I've made? What have I done to myself? How will I be able to get through this period? What to do? What to do? Oh. Shit. Not. Again. 

I have nothing. I am nothing. Maybe in another time, I would argue that having nothing and being nothing is actually a good thing. But not this time. Not this time. 

Being 20 and All That Jazz

The clock struck 4:10am, and suddenly I am 21.

I felt a sudden thug in my stomach as if I swallowed a live gnome. I felt my gag reflex acting on me. I felt sick. And I am 21.

I thought I'd be 20 forever. I don't know. The idea of being 21 did not cross my mind until I realized that I cannot stop time. I thought I could be infinite, endless, limitless, 20 ever and ever. Until time has decided upon me. It was a bit heartbreaking.

I liked being 20. I was not too young and not too old. Just right, I guess. Twenty was the right age for me. It was full of angst, chaos, drama, and other shit I would rather not discuss now. It was a different kind of ride. Too much had happened. My ideals were shattered, my heart was broken (by different circumstances and people), my morals got twisted, and my dreams were... Well, I cannot remember where they went.

I liked being 20. I can get away from almost everything--from social responsibilities to personal ones. I can blame my age. I can blame anything, but I did not. Being 20 was more of an adolescent age for me than adulthood in a lot of aspects of my (non)existence. For one, I have committed a lot of risky behaviors (which I would rather not specify here) in a span of one year. Then, I was attacked (yes, the term is attacked) by human emotions--from lust to lovefrom helplessness to nirvana. I had too much of everything to the point that I intentionally forgot most of it. And then, nothingness.

I liked being 20. I wanted to stay 20 forever, but time has decided. It cannot be helped. Now, I am 21 and I am still as lost as I was when I was 20.