- Going into my second month in stan twitter, I am beginning to understand how easily people throw words as defense when they feel threatened. In every argument, they feel that they must win and reign superior over the other party to feel a sense of justice. However, as the argument presses on, wounds go deeper and more difficult to heal. The hunger of retribution sharpens. It is a never ending cycle of giving and receiving pain. And all of this stems on pride. The inability to be accountable. The decision not to acknowledge faults. The repressed anger bubbling under retorts.
- Forgiveness is such a wonder. An art form, really. There is a ritual – a routine – for every person to attain it. This personal ritual must be respected. An offender has no right to dictate when the pain ends. Time and space are important steps.
- To walk on a flower path is to walk into every season. It is the acceptance that spring days evolve into summer-filled afternoons and the wind will become colder and colder until it is hard to progress. This is the rule of nature and time. Maturity comes and makes us more refined. The denial that things will stay in bloom forever is childish and a daydream one must wake up from.
- Death is the only time we will stop balancing ourselves between the good and evil extremes of each value we keep.
- I miss philosophy classes.
- I think I am out of my recent depression episode.
- Love, after the infatuation runs out, is a difficult or easy choice to make. It depends on how one wakes up in the morning.
- With my month-long reflection, I realized that I still do desire to establish myself in another country. It’ll be hard but the challenges excite me. This will take a long, long time.
- The love of my life is the group of kids I taught back in my first university.
- After all this time, always in all ways, for the kids.
- My new back brace makes me feel like a robot.
Perhaps the most recurrent theme of this depression cycle is ‘searching’. I craved to be alone most of the time to listen to music, to write down thoughts, and to embrace all the privacy I can get. I knew that my way out isn’t through the help of people this time.
Somewhere along this year, I lost my sense of self. I lost a part of my identity in my fight to be alive. I became someone’s advocate, another’s girlfriend, a daughter, a friend, a patient etc. But all these did not mesh together well. I did not know the sum of my parts. I ended up being more broken.
As such, I’m using this restlessness to provoke me to do self-care and to feel something, anything, as me for me. To find out once again what I like, what I love. To find why I’m trying so hard to have more time here. To search who I want to become.