"I've tried to hide, but I can't sleep tonight"

"I have some serious blogging to do" ewwwwwwww! I never want to say something like that ever again in my life! That just crossed the line from internet abuser to internet addict! -____-

Anyway, the point of this blog is fear. I fear everything. I seriously do. I fear the smallest things such as...well...those are little secrets I don't wanna tell, but it's seriously small things, like dogs. I'm not afraid of dogs, but you catch my drift I hope. And I also fear big and medium sized things in-between.

"EVERYONE HATES ME!"
"You hate me!"
"Seriously...I think he secretly hates me.."
"I dunno...I don't think she likes me very much..."

If you are my friend, you've heard one or all of the above phrases at least twenty times a day when hanging out with me. But truly truly, it's one of my worst fears. Even though I have a smile on my face, I'm not joking some of the time. Obviously I know Jakob doesn't hate me (I still can't help saying it. I won't stop saying it until he can freaking sing around me, gosh! So, obviously because he won't sing in front of me, that eqiuvaltes hatred xD), but I do believe some people don't like me very much. It irks me. I'm afraid I've done something wrong. It makes me worry and I go into myself and try to find out what I've done wrong. Have I been annoying? Am I too immature? I don't know. Obviously in life, I don't expect everyone to like me, but I want to know why people don't. Maybe I guess it irks me that someone who apparently "loves everyone" and is "nice to everyone/friends with everyone" doesn't like me? Was there a bad word put in while describing me? Have I offended? It distracts me when I don't know...

I suppose that's normal though, right? I mean...everyone thinks that..kinda?

But, as for my real fear....I've become something of a hypochondriac. I blame my mommy dearest. But I suppose my fears aren't all irrational..well, one might not be. I fear I have a brain tumor because I have random brain freeze like headaches every once in a while. I fear that...I'll never be able to have kids. I fear...I fear that I am diabetic. It runs through my dad's side and my mom got it a few years ago. And looking in the mirror, I'm not exactly a vision of health. So my fear isn't so irrational.

I google things about diabetes...I've become a bit of an expert on it. I have been since I was about 8 because I was fascinated by this disease my dad could have and yet he smiled...and everything I read, I get afraid. I mean "did I just feel that?" "Didn't I feel/complain about that last week?" "OMG that's been going on for a while". Maybe I'm just paranoid and I expierence everything in my mind. But it keeps me awake at night. What if it's too late for me.

Type 2 diabetes is reversable in the most obvious of ways: lose weight, be healthy and all that good stuff. But..it's not that easy for me. I'm positive that once I got the ball rolling I'd LOVE to excercise, but the point is I can't start. For me it's easier to starve myself and see the numbers go down on the scale. I feel better. I just have to poke the tummy to shut up and all is well. But it won't last and I know it, so I keep on starving keep on skipping a meal becauase I don't want that pound to come back.

I'm so scared. Obviously I should go to the doctor, but I hate them. I hate physicals. I hate them telling me what I already know. All the doctors care about is that I'm fat. End of story. They don't care that I sometimes don't eat because their words, media's words, that-kid-that-passes-me-when-I'm-walking-by's words, hurt too damn much. Because I see myself with such hatred. I have such good friends who don't care that I'mt his fatty blob, but I do. I care when I'm sitting next to my beautiful thin friends. I care when the lap-bar on a ride has an obvious distance from me and a friend.

"Don't poke/touch the fat!" That's another familiar phrase of mine. I mean it when I say it though. I feel disgusted when I'm touched. You might not be, but I am. I'm disgusted by the squishyness they touch when I'm poked. I wish more than anything they can feel ribs when they poke.

Who am I to complain though. I know what needs to be done, but...for some reason I can't. Maybe it is just pure laziness, but maybe it's not. Maybe it's fear. Maybe one day, if that day ever comes, and I lose the weight I should, maybe I won't be me anymore. I'm afraid that I won't be me or even worse, that people will be different to me. All of a sudden I'll be treated nicer. All of a sudden those people who "hate" me, will be friends. And that scares me the most. I am a firm believer that my friends are some of the most beautiful souls that God put on this earth, but people can change. It's happened to me before.

I'm just afraid. Haha...fattyness and cowardice don't go well...it just reduces you to this ugly little pathetic ball.

But I can't help but be afraid. I don't want my life to end before it starts. And I'm scared that if I'lm ever diagnosed, all is lost. Even though it would be reversible, I won't be able to go back. Because I would have given up on myself. I would live in a state of numbness. Nothing would matter anymore. it's a terribly selfish thought, but somewhere in my psyche, I know it's true.

And I'm scared out of my mind.

State of Neutrality...?

While driving home from Brittany's tonight, that thought suddenly hit me. As I watched the lights turn from red to green and the bass of a song pulse through my speakers I came to notice I saw without seeing.

Maybe it's what they taught in driver's ed. (yes, I still remember stuff), road hypnotism. I don't know if what I expierenced was road hypnotism but maybe. I was about...half way home I think when I realized, "Oh wow, what happened to the last five minutes of my life?"

I tried to think back to those few minutes where I was in limbo. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, I wasn't really listening to the song, for I have heard it about a hundred times or more, but still love it, I was just...going. Going without really going and seeing without truly seeing. So is that being hypnotized by the road? Well, I don't think so...it's just.....weird, haha...well normal for me I guess.

All tonight I figure now that I was in a state of neutrality. Don't get me wrong, of course I had fun but, neeh *shrug* I dunno how to explain it. I do know I was very shy. I am terribly shy. I don't want to be. But I am so insecure. I don't even know why, either. I guess that's how I'm programmed, to be constantly insecure. Or it is as Juliet once told me, "it's the Asian in you". Albeit, she was talking about something else, but she has a point there, haha.

No, it's not the Asian in me (haha). At least, I don't think so. I think the Asian in me tells me that third isn't good enough (in class I'm ALWAYS third when I put my best efforts into it. If not third I'm usually anywhere between 3-7. It PISSES me off! I mean really, uggggh! Third! Soooo close to first! >.<) and if I want to reach a dream or a goal I'm going to have to fight for it. I think that's what my inner Asian is telling me...and it's also telling me that I'm craving dumplings! -___-

No, I don't think that's my problem, the whole Asian thing...I think...my problem is, I haven't quite found my niche. I feel like a floater; just this random blob that's kinda there and kinda not. A blob that's on the outside for the most part but makes a fun remark every now and again. I don't know why I try so hard to find my place where I have a good enough place with the ones that truly matter. I suppose that somewhere in me, in that place of my soul where I want to make everyone around me happy, I seek acceptance. Of course I don't want friends who aren't quite friends/close to greet me as if we were long-lost best buddies once joined by the hip or something, but simply conversations are nice, right? Who doesn't want to be accepted every now and then.

So yes, I think I am just shy. In my classes at Palomar I have Danielle in English and Nat in Psychology and that's great! I'm so blessed to have them! But in my other two classes I can't make a sound. There are some nice people around me in Dance and in Math class, but I can't force myself to talk to them. I want to, but this time it's just being timid. I don't know how to make friends...I really don't. .___. What do I say? I watch this girl who sits in front of me in Math she can say something to the person in front and to either side of her and right away after that she'll be all "Hi, I'm so-and-so, nice to meet you, what's your name," and go from there. I could consider doing that but there's like this block in me that's like "uuhhmmm no...maybe the next class" or "eeeep....that person doesn't look like they want to be bothered right now, so I won't".

-_______-

Stupid introverted personality!

Yes, so in my state of neutrality, I've figured all this out and more. I've written my first poem in a looong while. Alas, it's not very good, but I suppose it will suffice, right? Yeaaaah...So tomorrow is dedicated to studying. Joy. I'm actually not intimidated by it. If I give it the entire day, I will be productive. Maybe not on consequtive hours on end, but the work will get done! (:

Reading through this...I am a terribly selfish person.

Ugggh...Ihateyou! >.<



Anyway! The poem!

Parade of Heart

Here it is for all to see,

my arms out-stretched

it's all of me.

Every tear, every laugh,

every prayer, every scar.

Every smile, every moment,

every thought while driving the car.

Here I am for all to witness,

a part of me I hold so close--

more secretive than the mind,

yet, less private than the soul.

Here I am out for display,

shedding the cloak of pretense

and masquerade.

Here's my heart

for you to view,

a single float in a heart's parade.

But here's a questionI implore of you......

...Will you still love me by tomorrow's morning?

Faliure

This has nothing to do with my expirement at all, and I decided that I'm just a failure so this blog will go to whimsical thoughts and dreams and stuff. Y'know, whatever describes my fancy. (:

That was fail #1.

Fail #2 is thinking of that silly boy. If only if only. If we got together it would be one of the best love stories out there. But I suppose that writing a story to "You Belong With Me" doesn't help much either....

Fail #3 is my lack of originality.

Fail #4 is my lack of time management.

Fail #5 is my lack of employment.

Fail #6 is my lack of intelligence.

Fail #7 is my lack of everything else I'm terrible at. >.<

Addicted.

I am addicted.

Not to drugs or alcohol, or sex, or gambling, or anything people are usually addicted to. But more so to a person. It sounds really creepy, but it's the best way I can describe it. Here, let's look up the definition of addiction....*goes to google*....

Addiction: being abnormally tolerant to and dependent on something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming (especially alcohol or narcotic drugs)

Okay, so maybe I am using the word in the wrong context, but I'm just going to stick with this word for a lack of better term. So what if it's not drugs or any other terrible thing that most people hear about, what is it that I am addicted to? Well, I'll tell you.

I'm addicted to a person.

But not in a creep stalker obsessive kinda way....but in a bad way nonetheless. Addiction are usually bad. They harm the mind, body, and soul and it leaves a person weak. My addiction harms the soul and mind.

The only reason I would call this person an addiction is because of the side-effects or the "high" I feel around him. It's not a good high though. It's a bad one. Instead of making me feel good, it makes me feel terrible.

See, whenever I'm around him, I beat on myself. I say things that I don't want to, but can't help. I become depressed around this person. And I would say that it is mostly my fault....okay, not mostly...ALL of my fault.

When I'm around him my self-esteem drops super low. I could be having the best day of my freaking life, but when I see him, I clam up, I go into a fetal position mentally. See, I am convinced that he doesn't like me very much. Something inside of me kicks (haha...kicks...like a baby! Except not....-_____-'') and gives me an icky feeling, a feeling that says "He doesn't like you very much. Find out why! Don't be that person!" And automatically I go inside of myself and the war begins.

He went on vacation with his family for a couple of weeks, and I was relieved. I'm trying not to like him, I really am. I think I succeed most of the time, and then, and then....I don't know what happens. All of a sudden it comes back and it's like "good going Serena, you FAIL". So while he was away I took the time praying to God that I focus on Him. My distractions were gone. And that Sunday he came back I sat in the balcony for two reasons. One, because a bunch of my friends were gone and it's awkward being pretty much the only college kid amidst high schoolers, and two, because he was there. Because I know that I wasn't prepared to face him again.

I know it's my fault that I'm always at their house. It's my fault I always go around. I'm fine going to their house for the most part, I only lose it when he comes around or talks to me or something. Then I'm like "no no no!"

See...so, I hate saying this because it sounds so Twilight-y but it's the best way to say it (and no, I'm not trying to relate my life to that book. It's really in me.) I can't stay away.

I mean besides the nasty side-effect of depression, there's some good in it! He makes me laugh, he reminds me to be more observant, he makes me feel as though I should strive to be more articulate and more positive. So it's not an addiction at all right?

Right?

Huh, I don't know....all I know is that I should try to stay away for a while....but does it really need to come to that? I hope not...because then he'll think I'm even more strange and it'll be even more awkward and no one wants that...

*sigh* I fail.

Being My Own Guinea Pig

Yes, another blog, but another site. Why? I don't know, because I thought it would be fun to make an account with Blogger? I don't know, I'm just an oddball.

I suppose a post like this would be better suited for my personal diary that I do keep, but I was just too lazy. The diary that I do keep is a combination of random thoughts and ideas that float through my head, as well as a biography of my life for the past 4 or 5 years.
So I was thinking about a purpose for this blog, and I came up with one. I think I will use this as a way to track an experiment on myself. That would be fun. It's kind of like a women's psychology experiment actually, and blogging it would be better than writing it down in a diary because a) I can type much faster than I write and almost as fast as I think and b) because I hope to re-read my entries and find my pattern...if I wrote it in my diary and tried to write as fast as the thoughts that cross my mind, my writing would become illegible and that would defeat the purpose. Yep, so I'll be my own personal guinea pig. (:

*******************

The funny thing about me is that I am a people-pleaser at heart. It can be about the smallest and the biggest things. Cooking, for example. If I know that I'm cooking for people, I try to find out what people like and dislike and if they are allergic to anything (so whatever I cook doesn't kill them >.<) in order to cater to them better. And when I cook for others I get nervous and I hope that I get everything just right.

But I also do that with my personality as well. I change myself to please people. Sometimes I realize it, sometimes I don't. But I think I may go through another change again. I hope that it's for the better. Since I'm holding onto God this time around, I hope it really will be better. But it's not a bad change, it's a good change. It'll make other people happy. I want the people I love to be happy.

I think my period of regression needs to come to an end for good. I was born into an older family, so growing up I was, in a sense expected to mature faster. All of my siblings, half siblings, are a lot older than me. The smallest age gap between a brother and me is 11 years and even that's intense. So growing up, I was expetected to be smart, mature, and responsible...all of which I was...well, maybe not smart...then again, I can't judge that. -__-;

But in the last couple of years I have somehow regressed from being completely mature to...not necessarily immature, but child-like. I don't quite remember exactly how it happened, all I know is that it did. But I think it's time for that to change. It's time for me to go back into my box. I had fun being witty, smiley, giggly,...and happy. I had a grand time. It really cushioned the blow of my father passing away...well, it was like a flat pillow. It was soft, but not the softest thing to fall upon. God was the BIG pillow that seriously cushioned the fall.

Don't get me wrong, by saying that I was happy...I don't mean I'll ever be happy again, of course I'll be joyful. I once explained it to a friend. I'm not a happy person. I'm just not. Some days I'm an optimist, and others I'm a pessimist. It just depends, and I'm not happy. I am however, joyful. Because of God I have this eternal joy I can feel everyday, and I know it's there because I remember those couple of years I didn't have it and I can recall exactly how it felt. And I know I can smile veryday because of God and because of the joy He's given me.

Basically what I mean is, I'll try to be quiet again. I'll try to be that girl that people easily forgot and the kid that sat in the back reading a book. I'll be observant and less talkative again. It hurts me that I upset friends and annoy friends. It really does. My insecurities arise and I just want to curl into a ball and apologize over and over. I'll try really really hard not to be child-like and not make noises. I can't control them, but you don't believe me. I can't I can't I can't. And you dislike me for them. And if it makes you feel better, I'll stop. I'll really really try if it makes you feel happy.

I'll stop talking too, if that makes you happy.

I won't speak to you, if that makes you happy.

I'll say things like "I'm FANTASTIC" and other words such as awesome, and fabulous, and great if that pleases you.

I want all of my friends to be happy. See, sometimes I feel so worthless, just like right now. Like last night, I played conversations I had with people in my head over and over, and the thoughts keep coming and I can't fight them off. One conversation in particular was on repeat in my mind.

-"If I had some sharpies, at the moment, I'd let you add to it."
"No, I'd only ruin it."

And looking at the mural I realized I would have. It was complete without me. The room, if I wasn't there...nothing would have changed. The circle still would have been complete without me. In my mind, I sometimes take myself out of situations. And I watch them as if I were a ghost and I pretend I'm not there. Nothing would change. Nothing. People would still laugh and have fun. It would still be complete. I'm just a random blob thrown into the mix.

I always am.

I have God, that I do have. I'm learning to let Him be my all. To care about only what He thinks. But sometimes...a lot of the sometimes....I want to know I'm worth it to other people. Sometimes I want to know if they care about me as much as I care about them. And sometimes...I'm afraid they don't....because it would be a hunch coming true. And sometimes...that just hurts too much.

Aw crap, here come the tears.