"I’m so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything."
– Jonathan Safran Foer
Name: Jennifer Lee (이가연)
Birthdate: 09.22.92Occupation: Student
Major: Creative Writing
About Me: Dolce & Gabbana's Light Blue is my scent. Acrylic paint is my medium. Feelings are what define me.
"I write because you exist."
— Michael Faudet
I just woke up feeling like shit today. I actually really hate how I look WITHOUT my glasses. I feel like I look ridiculously unattractive without having something to hide behind - be it my glasses, makeup, or layers of clothing. It’s a daily struggle. Usually I win and just go about my day without a care, but on days like this I just want to crawl back in bed and forget what I look like. Insecurity is a bitch.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…
I’ve come to terms that I’ve been physically alone for too long for my own good. I think it’s natural to open up to doubts that I have and admit to myself, maybe I made a few mistakes. But that doesn’t change anything. I’m still sticking to the path that I chose. It kills me when I cry like this because I feel guilty for crying. I don’t deserve to cry. A lot of people have it tougher than I do. It makes me feel worse so I end up crying more. It’s pathetic.
I don’t go to my mother for comfort when I get like this. She hates tears or any sign of weakness. But I thought I was strong enough to hold an adult conversation with her about my fears. She doesn’t understand the idea of “anxiety” or “over-thinking.” In her mind, those terms are nonexistent. I wasn’t planning on crying at all, but as soon as I mentioned that I had some fears she lashed out at me to grow up, that everyone else has bigger problems, that it was unnecessary to think like that. And I understand, I really do. I come to her to have her remind me to toughen up, but tonight was different. I agree - it’s pointless to think like this but there’s just something in me that refuses to mend itself together.
Irked, she asked, “Why are you crying? There is nothing to cry about.” I choked. What can I say to her to make her understand? No one in my family (that I know of) harbors this much hesitation and anxiety. I was naturally a weak person to begin with, no matter how much I’ve changed. To anyone, I can’t even begin to explain why I am the way I am. I have no straight answer. I knew, ultimately, she still wouldn’t get it but I tried.
I think she feels guilty that I’ve become like this because I’m her daughter. I hate myself more for making her feel like she did a bad job as a mother. I don’t resent how I was raised. She was being the best she could even when she had her own fears and barriers to overcome. She is my role model. She hasn’t, and never will, fail me. We just think and cope differently. I lead to my own self-destructions.
Even when I tell myself that I like being alone, I realize that I begin to fall apart ever-so slowly until I’m nothing. I fall back to the original, weak little girl that I was and it makes it that much harder for me to interact with others again. I’ve accepted my flaws, but I haven’t learned to love them yet.
When I get like this, I just cradle myself in my chair and wait for nothing. I forget my priorities and pretend I’m not here. It’s how I cope.
I just cried like half an hour ago. I laughed a few hours ago. I went grocery shopping and made small talk with the cashier. I had a dream about love last night. But with or without feelings, my heart beats with anxiety. I can feel it throbbing through my veins. I’d touch where it pulsates, expecting my wrist or my shoulder to blow off, but nothing happens. So I just wait for my thoughts to reorganize before I go back to doing what I was supposed to do.
Can someone explain to me my apathetic anxious tensions? Maybe words aren’t enough to explain what I feel. I can’t grasp something that is abstract.
I’m not sad. I’m not frustrated. I’m not happy. I’m just here. Hoping to possess or create something that’s only mine. Just mine.
I’m expected to live a life with passion. I thought, at first, moments like these were stopping me from finding that passion. But I realized these are just stepping stones. I think I am passionate. I may not express them as well physically or emotionally, but as soon as my fingers hit the keys or I find paper and a pen, it just overflows.
But most of the time, I’m at a loss.
"Oscar Wilde said that if you know what you want to be, then you inevitably become it - that is your punishment, but if you never know, then you can be anything. There is a truth to that. We are not nouns, we are verbs. I am not a thing - an actor, a writer - I am a person who does things - I write, I act - and I never know what I am going to do next. I think you can be imprisoned if you think of yourself as a noun."
"I am afraid. I’m afraid of everything. I’m afraid of the dark, of closed-in spaces, of being alone and of getting too close. I’m afraid that I’ll never again have the life I’ve always known, my feet in the dust and my heart full. I’m afraid of being alive; I’m afraid to die."
"I close my eyes and I let my body shut itself down and I let my mind wander. It wanders to a familiar place. A place I don’t talk about or acknowledge exists. A place where there is only me. A place that I hate. I am alone. Alone here and alone in the world. Alone in my heart and alone in my mind. Alone everywhere, all the time, for as long as I can remember. Alone with my Family, alone with my friends, alone in a Room full of People. Alone when I wake, alone through each awful day, alone when I finally meet the blackness. I am alone in my horror. Alone in my horror. I don’t want to be alone. I have never wanted to be alone. I fucking hate it. I hate that I have no one to talk to, I hate that I have no one to call, I hate that I have no one to hold my hand, hug me, tell me everything is going to be all right. I hate that I have no one to share my hopes and dreams with, I hate that I no longer have any hopes or dreams, I hate that I have no one to tell me to hold on, that I can find them again. I hate that when I scream, and I scream bloody murder, that I am screaming into emptiness. I hate that there is no one to hear my scream and that there is no one to help me learn how to stop screaming… More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to be close to someone. More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to feel as if I wasn’t alone."
I think up too many scenarios in my head. It’s like I’m prepared for everything and nothing at all.
I try not to tie myself down to a person. I don’t want to be held back. That’s why I’m always selfish. I need to take care of myself first. It’s okay to be selfish.
Mac Miller || CRtC
She got a little bit of beauty, little bit of class,
Little bit of lips, Little bit of ass
Little bit of style, dressed to kill, little bit of freak, with a sex appeal
I mean…let’s be honest…😏