But those moments don't last forever and they never will - for if you do not solve the problems that give you grief in the long run, you'll never be able to rid yourself of the permanent troubles that plague you. That is probably something I've learned through these years, but it's also something that doesn't seem to really manifest in my brain. Time after time I only come to a realization only when it's too late, when problems are so worn beyond recognition that you can't even comprehend whether a solution is possible or not. I'm uncertain, at this point, whether this is something all humans face - but then again, it has to be. Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone falls. What you make out of it is up to you - but everyone has trouble getting through things and picking themselves up again. Everyone says that we should always rely on our friends - but that itself is a concept foreign to me.
I was just looking through old blogs of mine I had written throughout high school. They were terrible, so to speak - but in the circumstances, me being me - I could understand and see where I was coming from. No matter how much I despised the old me, it was still a version of me - the crazy, manic Anne who did nothing but complained and whined and hated and ranted and raged and screamed to the world about how empty and useless and pathetic and shit the entire universe was. And there were reasons, of course - the old Anne just never knew how to deal with them. The old Anne was pretty shit, I would say - the old Anne was seriously batshit crazy, and to some extent she still is.
I'm still not good in dealing with problems effectively. I try to be kind to others, to care for them when they need help - and I enjoy doing that. I enjoy listening to them, giving them a hand, giving them advice (even though I am certain that my advice holds no merit) - I enjoy laughing with them over the little things that occur in our everyday lives, I enjoy smiling and teasing them about familiarity - unfamiliarity - everything in between. They are good people, so I try my best to be good to them.
I came to New Zealand to make friends, not enemies.
I work hard to make up for lost time, to enjoy the things I never had a chance to enjoy.
I came here for a purpose. I came here to achieve. I came here to make a difference. I didn't come here on a whim - I planned out everything since I was in high school, making sure I could persuade my parents to let me come here, making sure I had everything coordinated. I knew, I knew - that I had to escape the place where I had come from, and I won't call it home because I never saw it as one. I am, by no means, ungrateful - I am grateful for the opportunity I have been blessed, I am grateful that I am alive. I am grateful that I have no financial burdens, and I appreciate the fact that I do not face any greater trials than this.
The only thing is that the emotional bonds do not truly exist. I do not miss. I do not feel. I do not love, especially. And that itself is a burden, for I do not feel at home at the place where I have come from but the place where I am at is not truly a place I have been for too long either. I call the place I am currently at "home" because I want to, because I feel that I need to - a desperation to belong somewhere, to hail from a place where I can feel appreciated. The tension that exists between the two is palpable, where I realize that the differences exist between me and others. I slip into a familiar accent back from Asia once in a while - something which I try not to do. In other words, I challenged myself to change every single aspect of myself in order to fit in. While the advice people give is to always be yourself, I was content with the idea of being a newer version of myself. It was still me, essentially - I am and always will be me - but I despised the parts of myself that I was not proud of, and wanted to build up an image where I could feel alive and be at ease with.
So when things feel like they've gone to hell and back, I ease myself up with a little bit of drinking. It wasn't a one-party thing, mind you - I had a companion who drank along with me, but who conveniently decided to fall asleep when I was dying to go out for a walk. It was dark and the rain was pouring - but I didn't care. I had to get out, I had to breathe - I felt like there was something choking me, and I had to let it out. My vision was blurry and everything seemed incredibly fascinating in the oddest ways possible - but I knew, I just knew that I had to allow a part of myself to come through. And so that was what I did in the darkness, where no one could see me in a puffer jacket. I walked. I walked with earphones on - walking away from town, and heading towards the emptier areas of the university at night. I walked past the Polytechnic, I walked past the field - I walked towards the stadium, I walked towards the car parks - I had no idea where I was headed to, of course. I had no destination, I had no aim. All I knew was that I had to keep walking - to keep running. Away from what, I had no idea. Thoughts swirled in my head but I was too drunk to actually identify them, so I shoved them away and reveled in my drunkenness. I hummed to the tune of Greenday and approached the bridge, the one that led to the sea. And for a moment, glancing at that deep swirling mass of black, I had the urge to just jump in to see how it was like. It was the death urge, and it took some effort (more like, the urge to find a bathroom because I had drunk a lot of alcohol) just to back the hell away from there and get back to the college.
People were worried.
They actually were.
I wasn't expecting for them to come out looking for me, but they had - especially after hearing that Anne had gone walking alone in the rain, half-ass drunk and clueless on what the hell was happening. They had looked displeased, they had looked worried - and at that moment, guilt welled within me. Just for an instance - and then it was gone. I was back to being aloof and indifferent, telling them they had no reason to worry and that all I wanted was a good walk to clear my head.
I was a pathetic, selfish little shit and I knew it.
I could not bring myself to tell anyone anything and I don't think I ever can. It is difficult - you never know when people will judge, or how they will see you next. You don't know who are the people you can actually trust, for they are few you are familiar with - and for the people who you might actually trust, you fear that revealing some of your darkest secrets to them might actually scare the crap outta them. And honestly, that would be the last thing you wanted. You fear that they would not be able to handle the weight - just as you've witnessed before - and so you decide that you will deal with your own problems, fears and insecurities on your own. You decide that you will be strong to others and only be weak when it comes to yourself. That would be the ideal solution.
And that will be the solution that I shall strive towards.
Aaaaaand if I could stop procrastinating and start studying harder, that would be great! Law is interesting - but some parts of it are horribly tedious at times. English is terrible as I am bad at writing fancy stuff. Politics is wonderful, but I fear for the marks of my essay.
Ah, and the nights are long...
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