Natsume Yuujinchou

We're entering the last month of summer, and I think I'll miss it when it's gone. Summer is probably my favorite season- clothing becomes lighter, I can walk around the water, and stay out to watch the sunset in warmth. I've started a new anime and I've binged a season in 2 days. It's not as bad as consuming 2 seasons in 1 day, but I should be studying.

The anime's about a boy and his adventures with youkai, which only he can see. Youkai are like... Eastern-folklore version of spirits/ghosts? Similar to what you'd class fairies and goblins and mermaids. The anime's episodic, but there's some continuity. What I fucking hate about it though, is how there's rarely a happy ending. Even when it's happy it's bitter-sweet. There's also no clear resolution- like, I guess some people prefer some loose ends be left up to the imagination, but for me, I want clear cut conclusions of "this is what happened".

When every episode ends that way, you can imagine my frustration.. but I keep watching because it's a good anime. I actually really like the main character, Natsume Takashi. He's meant to be really strong except he gets almost-eaten every second ep by the youkai. I really like his personality though... he could've grown up all warped and twisted, but instead he's just grateful for what he says, and tries to protect what's precious to him. A lot of the male protagonists I've seen are really "shounen", they harbor a lot of angst created by their childhood, and then over the story they kind of get over it with the help of friends and overcoming adversity or whatnot. That's probably closer to how I am, but I wanted to be someone like Natsume. Just... being kind, a bit naive at times, but enjoying life without being all jaded.

Watching this anime makes me want to run around fields in my shorts and make the most out of summer time.

Humidity

I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do. It's so hot right now- the air is stifling. I've gotten sick of "work"- not that I've done much work. Revision makes me want to vomit, though a lot of times I feel like I barely revised at all. The fridge is almost empty but I'm still okay because I don't eat a lot of food. I'm quite comfortable in my room, but I don't feel very productive despite how long my days are. Maybe it's because I was all hyped up for work, and then I had a two week holiday. All my work is still there, I just feel a little... I don't know, it's almost like I'm at ease.

Sometimes I still think about "home", and whenever I do it kinda hurts and I get a bit of chest pain and a bit of a headache. It sure is lonely out here, but I think I still feel better now, with my mood at a flat line. It's weird to feel this neutral... like, I'm unable to feel happiness or sadness. Doing work doesn't make me feel bad (well, apart from the wanting to vomit thing), playing games doesn't make me feel good. I just go on with everything out of habit... I'm living but there's no sense of purpose. Well, I guess in the long run there's purpose, but in the short run it's all very dull.

Compare this to when I was down South- I was almost bipolar. Well, not in the mood disorder sense, but when I went out with my friends I was euphoric- I felt so good. Then I dreaded coming "home", began to feel suppressed, and the whole situation fell apart and I spiraled into a vortex of depression. I don't want to go back. I know my parents expect me to be back, but I'd rather not be back. It's healthier if they stay out of my life right now, because I still feel lingering disgust and I haven't been away to wash away that bad taste in my mouth, after all the bitterness I was forced to swallow. There's the matter of my shattered pride, my own feelings of injustice and when you get down to it, I simply don't feel safe there.

Not that I think they'll beat me up or anything, but I'm more dangerous to myself than anyone else is to me. I say I'd rather hurt others than hurt myself, but what happens when I get hurt by others getting hurt? It's a dead end of me, isn't it? Stupid sense of attachment, being indoctrinated from childhood about the importance of filial piety and idealization of the concept of "family". It's a lie. It's all a fucking lie.

You know when you read a book and it talks about how you just feel a connection with your family, those of your blood, because you're related so you just feel attachment? FUCKING. BULLSHIT. I DON'T FEEL SHIT. IF I HAD AMNESIA I WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO PICK OUT MY BIOLOGICAL PARENTS FROM A CROWD, AND I WOULDN'T BE "AWAKENED" BY SOME WARM FUZZY FEELING IN MY HEART. THERE'S NOTHING THERE.

It's so fucking empty, and between a mix of resentment and sorrow, I try to distance myself from the whole affair.

Man I wish it would rain. It's so hot right now.

Work; Start

After a heavy week of lectures, I hung out with a friend for a bit of a breather. We went to KBBQ and the zoo and it was kind of fun- I spent a lot of money and I got my hair dyed (which I thought was cool but someone told me it made me look delinquent). I enjoyed the break, but my friend had a terrible attention span and seemed perpetually bored. In those situations it's like, "wow, is hanging out with me that boring", but I felt more exasperated than anything. I know he's the kind of person who'd have massive troubles telling me he didn't want to do something if I was keen, but despite my general aura, I do have regard for my friends' preferences. In the end I had fun, but he's definitely not suited for spontaneity or "figure it out when we get there".

Then I came back, slept very well for the evening and waking up, I felt functional. I listed all the things I needed to do, and I did them all. Now I'm sitting in the library, abusing their internet speeds (because the internet at my residence is SO GODDAMN SLOW). I'm reviewing the lectures I had last week, because my timetable got screwed up (I was too lazy to submit a preference form) and I'm kicking my rotation off with a 2 week holiday. Beautiful, isn't it.

The topic I'm reviewing is kind of dark, and I'm reading through all this material about abuse and how to recognize abuse. I guess it's a useful skill to have, but I wish I didn't need it. If you want to just think about the mechanism behind it all, I guess it's kind of cool, but it's near-impossible to dissociate the trauma and social implications. That stuff doesn't really "get to me", but because it exists I find the whole business kind of gross.

I think I've sorted out my timetable and I swear I can feel my cortisol levels rising. Just the amount of study I'm expected to do, the knowledge I'm supposed to retain, gives me trepidation like no other. I find solace in thinking that "others have done this before me, and they have survived". I don't believe that there are many people out there who are just... fundamentally better than I am, and whatever I lack in talent I can replace by effort. And oh lord I lack a lot of talent when it comes to medicine. I don't think I'm horrific at anything (except perhaps anatomy), but it's difficult to describe me as more than mediocre, so the effort I must input to remain competitive had me feeling sick for a long time. "Mediocre", seemed far worse than being labelled a failure... As a failure, perhaps quitting and finding another thing would be far easier. As someone mediocre... who struggles to remain mediocre... it's like my biggest nightmare has come true. I've exhausted the reserves from my talent pool, and in the field of medicine, I am nothing more than mediocre. For a while I even struggled with accepting the field- I was never inspired to enter into med, but there's no way to move on if you don't commit.

Those are my unseen struggles. Studying, when you get down to it, is something I've done for a long time, and I have always done well. Enthusiasm, on the other hand, is something I felt like I've never known.  Right now I'm motivated because I don't want to be inferior, I don't want to fuck up someone's life when they come to me for help, because I was too lazy to read an extra page in my textbook back in med school. That's kind of what I mean when I say I'm held hostage by responsibility. Strengthen my resolve, yeah, I'm getting there. I wish I could be ambitious and say I wanted to save the world, find a cure for cancer or MS or lupus, but...while it is a great and noble thing, I feel too tired to even daydream about it.

In the end, if I can save myself, I will be satisfied and know that my efforts have been good-enough.

I like my friends so very much

I kept on complaining that I had no friends up here at uni, and I could only find joy back in my hometown. That came at the cost of all the drama with my parents, of course, but I was convinced I We had made no friends over my 3 years of tertiary schooling.

I was so wrong.

Ever since getting back here, I've been catching up with various people. We have dinner, we go to class together, we share notes during lectures. That's when I realize... I have friends. I have friends and I didn't count them, because we didn't spend as much time together, because I was convinced they "weren't as cool" so I rejected them wholly. Friendly without being "friends". I was good at that.

Now that everyone is going their separate ways to further their training, I finally realize: I had friends, and if these people left me, I would be missing their company sorely. We didn't always hang out or talk or do fun things together, but the option was always there, and I always had a safety net. If I wanted to hang out, someone would go with me. I took that for granted, because no one had ever turned me down--- and that hasn't changed, but I'm starting to realize it's a terrible thing to take for granted. I just don't appreciate the things I've always had, until I'm about to lose them.

...And that's the definition of privilege, isn't it? Something you don't appreciate when you have, then bitch about when you lose it.

Like all these stories turn out, it's kind of too late to go back in time and get to know people better, or form meaningful bonds. I thought I got over my superiority-complex after performing miserably on every exam here... but maybe I put less value on my academic performance than I previously thought, and here I am...

Well, it may be too late, but I'd still like to express the sentiment. I do like my friends, and they are my friends. I like them very much.

Spontaneous Recovery

Today was the first day of school. I felt... better than I have in a long time. It's strange because I fucking hate school and would rather sit home and play computer games all day, but I actually enjoyed going. Maybe it's because I've moved away now and I'm living by myself again. I have a 2 week holiday coming up soon, but there is no fucking way in hell I'm going back down South.

Turned up for my lectures, starting 8am. Was a horror, but I was somehow used to it all, after my ordeals with placements, where I woke up at 6am to try and catch the 6.30 bus, which would take an hour to travel to work. I'd run towards the elevators and try to squeeze in with the crowd, just so I could beat my attending to work, because he liked to be slightly early for ward rounds at 8am. After that rigorous schedule for a month, there was nothing strange about sleeping at 10pm sharp and waking refreshed at 6.

I was dismayed in class, however, when I realized I understood very little was going on. Everything seemed like English but read like Spanish: I had no clue. So here I am, looking up textbooks and trying to find the one that will save me. It's a total pain having to study these gross diseases, then I think about how there are real people, who have to live with these things, and that gives me more motivation to study. I mean, too often I've felt terrible and wished there would be someone who would become my savior, pick me up where I had fallen down. A lot of people told me I couldn't wait forever, and no one was going to save me except for myself. Still, I remember how desperate I felt, and I want to become someone who can help others to their feet- so that they can keep walking their own ways.

Sometimes we just need someone to tell us that we have the strength to walk on.

Where Now?

I felt so miserable for all of yesterday, in a way that was entirely overwhelming. I'd play the piano and the pace would be andante or slower, and sometimes I just missed notes because my fingers felt too heavy to lift and too weak to press down. Every song sounded like a melody of mourning and in the end I stopped playing.

I sat on the couch trying to think of nothing at all- meditation, if you will. I tried to block out the hideous thoughts I had, to no avail. I started crying spontaneously and I was a mess. At one point I was painting, trying to repair an old artwork my sister had damaged years ago... then as I drew I experienced anger so overwhelming I slammed my brush on the table and threw a tub of paint at the wall, with full force. The wall dented and I felt a sick satisfaction. I also had the urge to smash the glass in house, break every window and door. Shatter my surrounding to match my shattered self.

I didn't end up doing that. I thought about the thousands of dollars it would cost to replace everything, and how much of a mess it'd be to clean up the broken glass. My mother would be heartbroken, more than she already is. I hate seeing her that way, and I hate myself for caring. The words she spoke to me were despicably cruel, and I don't think a child deserves to hear that from their mother. Yet still they fell upon my ears, and sinced then I have been cursed with this turbulent mood.

I would be free if I was orphaned. Familial support means shit all when they don't actually support you, and what's worse is that it hurts double when they harm you. My "father" justified his shittiness towards me with "you don't tell us anything", and proceeded to vilify me with his self- serving logic and baseless accusations.

I do think violent thoughts. If I acted on them I'd be patricidal. I'd rather not let this man destroy my life further, so I exercise my self- control. Even then, he provokes me daily and asphyxiates me with his presence.

I'm leaving tomorrow, so I hope I will improve soon. I can't be like this when I have class and work and exams. I plan on finding a job, because I need money to distance myself from this abusive household.

And yes, this is abuse. I recognize an abusive situation when I see it. The emotional trauma I've received in the past 2 days is more than enough to show the toxic situation I'm in. I need to go.

Go some place where I can feel safe again.

I'd like to live on

This time, my "father" decided to talk to me for 2+hrs or whatever. I've never felt this close to hurting myself. People look down on those who self-harm, because it's attention- seeking behaviour, right. Well, what if I say, self-harm is one of the most effective methods of getting people to take you seriously. "You haven't tried killing yourself yet so it's not that bad".

Sometimes, people just don't believe when you tell them how you feel. Depressed but not depressed enough, as if I needed proof. Because my feelings can't be validated until I have enough scars on my body. And so I want to carve some flesh out in a minimal- damage kind of way. Not enough to kill me, more than enough for it to hurt, and just enough to make my story of pain and suffering believable.

I said I wanted to live on. And that hasn't changed. But the struggle is so real. I don't remember the last time I was in such a dark place. I don't enjoy existence as a failure, you know.

I can't even feel angry right now. What word should I use? It's difficult. Sad, certainly. What about... lost? A bit. Hopeless is probably a bit too far, disgusted is strangely close to the answer.

Sick is probably the right word. I'm sick, of myself, my situation, and the world around me. It gets better! Yeah, I know. I know it does. But I should call a suicide hotline or something. I'm so desperate and I still cling to this vague idea of "better" in the "future". And that's all I have to live for right now. My life isn't my own, my body isn't my own, my thoughts aren't my own. I don't even know what I possess in this world. I want to keep crying but I've been crying for an hr or two so I'm kind of sick of that as well.

I'm sick, yeah. Sick to the core.

Failure

I've always suspected that I was a failure to my parents despite being that A-grade Asian who got into med school. It was a 2nd rate med school, for sure, but med school nonetheless. Anyway, I was somewhat content with my achievements (if you could call it such), because as I advance further into my studies, I am also growing as a person. It doesn't feel like much, and maybe I didn't DO much, but I know for sure that I'm more mature and insightful than say, a year ago. Even 2 months ago. Not that my parents care.

And why should I care about my parents, right? They brought me into this world, raised me and cared for me, then put me through a great deal of grief as they shackled their expectations on to me. I tried to escape until their chains bore me down to the bone, Then one day, I realized, I was actually free, but by then I had tied myself up to something much worse - something called "responsibility". When I was young I didn't give a shit- I wasn't even vaguely aware of what "responsibility" actually meant. Now I realize, taking responsibility is hard, admitting it is also hard, and the word itself just makes me think bad things.

Anyway, getting to the point. My mother said she wanted to speak to me yesterday afternoon, and what resulted was a 2hr conversation in which she told me she'd rather if I was born retarded. Well, that's not giving you much context, but I promise you I didn't say anything mean or w/e. Not that I didn't see it coming- I actually imagined she'd say "I'd rather if you were dead". Yes, I provoked her- not like, intentionally, but people become very uh... I don't know how to say it. If they want to read things a certain way they'll read it that way, and justify being hurt by it. Never mind the original intention. It's like when you complain about having too much homework and some kid goes "I came from a deprived country where it's difficult to get an education, and you complain about homework". Like, the original remark wasn't meant to offend, but if you choose to feel indignant about it, wtf can I do? There's also not a lot of correlation between the two events, you know?

So yeah my mother said that to me, I felt like shit. Then she started crying, and I tried to comfort her by saying it'll all be okay, and she was all "how is it okay, at all" between sobbing and tears... Like, that is so sly, mother. You're the one who comes into my room, says hurtful things to me, and now you cry and make me comfort you when I'm still butthurt over your remarks. The guilt trip is fucking real. To this day I'm still fucking hopeless when it comes to people's tears. We can have a heated argument or whatever, but as soon as they break down crying I'm like "ohhhh I fucked up. Please stop, I surrender".

It feels unreal to have a confirmation that my parents actually don't like me for who I am. I used to say all these things, but I always thought it was just my depression talking. Like, you know how you're depressed you play out the worst-possible-scenario over and over, then you think you can read people's minds and you just KNOW that they're all fucking judging you? Well I thought it was something like that with my parents, but nope, they actually think I'm a colossal failure and that hurts my soul. I don't like them but it still hurts, you know?

My friends keep reassuring me that it's fine, I don't actually need my parents and they're terrible people anyway. And like... I know they're terrible people. I've lived their terribleness. They keep on saying they want me to be happy, but it's more, "we want you to be happy the way that we want you to be happy". That's hardly my ideal of happiness, though. Yet there's something that's difficult to ditch when it comes to the people who raised you, even though you know you disappoint them, and that you were never what they wanted. Fucking hell I wish they'd stop being so ungrateful. Too often I get called ungrateful because I have a decent education and a comfortable middle-class upbringing. Why doesn't it work the other way? Why can't they be grateful for a son who can draw and write and play a bit of music? Who's studying and making friends and aiming to become a better person?

Yeah ok I have my flaws. I play a fair bit of games and I'm pretty lazy. But I don't go out dealing drugs or traffic human lives. I could literally be so much worse--- but at this stage I don't even smoke and restrict myself to a standard drink every gathering.

Yet there's nothing I can do if you want to label me as a failure, by the person I am. If I exist as a failure, then so be it, because I'd like to live on.

Honestly

I've always wanted to be someone who was honest to himself, but that turned out to be near impossible. A long time ago I learnt that you will never achieve what you want, unless you embrace the desires you have buried deep within you. Too often, however, I felt severely betrayed by those who should have been my closest confidents, so I grew into the shitty person I am today, with a severely twisted personality.

I lied so much my lies almost became truth. "Fake it til you make it". Not to say that I trust no one and feel vengeful towards the world, but I do have some issues. Lying is almost 2nd nature; it protects me from harm, and people love hearing my lies. They gobble it up like vultures, because the truth hurts. Placed in an environment where I am punished for being truthful but rewarded according to how well I can lie... of course I became like this.

I should blame myself too, I know. I've always liked to be on the safe side, and I think I'm way too sensitive to pain. As it stands, I'd much rather inflict pain on others than have pain inflicted upon myself. You can call it cowardice, but I call it self-defense. I invariably end up testing those around me, poking and prodding to make sure they are "safe" to be around.

I don't know if I'll stop. I wish I could be good and noble, and feel nothing but righteousness in my heart. It is so much easier when you only see the world in black and white. As I navigate a palette of infinite possibilities, I become lost and afraid.

But for some reason, a while back, I decided I wanted to become a better person. Perhaps I won't be too ambitious to start with, but I had hoped, with each passing day, I would be a little wiser, a little kinder and a little happier.

I know I will still lash out viciously when someone crosses me, but maybe I'll stop pulling everything in as collateral. Maybe some day will come, when I realize, "huh, I have said exactly what I meant," and I will be strong enough to bear the consequences then.

Then perhaps, in the far future, someone might say, "I want to become the kind of person Vane has become; I want to be better than I am."

And I would be so proud.

Almost Back To School

I'm frantically calling up various agents about a place to live for the year, as school starts in less than 2 weeks. Honestly, my life has never been better, even though I'm probably about to go through the hardest year of schooling in my life. Well, that's what I said through y11 and y12, right? Haha, why does school never seem to get any easier.

Then again, I've always complained that life is hard. I'm trying to change that, you know. Not just trying to make life better for myself, but I want to complain less, too. Because I'm such a negative person, all I've ever done is complain about everyone and everything.

Now that I think of it, isn't it why I created this blog in the first place?

I have a feeling this "quest to being a better person" is never-ending. I feel like I've come so far, but some days I feel like I haven't changed at all. I still hate people who are always happy- it's probably out of pure envy. A lot of times I just feel flat-line, and when people try to disturb my state- whether that's by cheering me up or getting me down, I become invariably upset.

It's the first physical law, isn't it? Things like to keep on doing what they're already doing.