problems

I’ve built up courage to tell people about things they could probably hold against me. I’ve given some people access to it, to know about my life in words. To hold the knife against my neck and keep it there.

I told myself, they can wield the knife to kill but only if I give them my neck, and I want to believe that there’s no issue in showing the people I love around me this part of my life. I was opening up. Trying to show people a part of me that I’d always been scared to show. My wounds. My scars. My life.

But when I speak to people, I have to be cautious. This was the one place, where I didn’t have to watch what I was saying because it was my hideout. It was my safe zone. It was a secret. Somehow, I feel that I have to be more cautious now, think about the consequences of my writing and wait for these people to look me the in eye and run their knives across my neck.

But I can forgive them, because they do it without realising. Without realising the consequences of what they inflict upon me. I’m not sure how to put this without sounding ungrateful. I cherish the people around me highly, I love them and will forever be loyal to them but my feelings aren’t stories for you to read. It’s my feelings, my most treasured feelings. I don’t want to be asked if it was about you, I don’t want to be told that you feel sad because I felt this way. I felt this way once upon a time. That is true, but I don’t feel that way now.

I write to set these feelings aside, and when I’m ready I let the world see what I overcame. My problems are a fleeting occurrence, which soon go because new emotions overtake it.

– H.E

Beastly

The beast inside feeds off anger, insecurities and pain. When I feed it, it feels heavy, like it’s about to rip my chest and pounce out. When I starve it, it cowers away and stays silent until the next time because it knows. It knows that it will get fed one day, whether it be in two hours, a week or a month. It slowly waits inside, knowing. Smirking.

That’s why I write, I write because the screaming in my chest quietens down after I pour it onto a page. Instead of letting my heart bleed, I bleed ink onto a page. Little by little, I let out what is supposed to be kept inside to calm the beast inside. To tame it. Because if it gets too much to handle, it means the beast has won, I’m left in pieces and I have to slowly piece myself together again. Alone.

Because it is my battle, and mine alone.

-H.E

Ashamed.

So, when I first started writing, it was something that I was slightly ashamed of. I’m actually ashamed of admitting it now. It just wasn’t something people did, and I felt like I was the only one. It was only a few years ago that I saw a friend so open, and she was outspoken. I wasn’t.

Everything I write is very personal to me. It’s my thoughts and feelings that I feel deeply about. I was uncomfortable with others reading it. It made me vulnerable and I never did vulnerable.

I hated feeling that people could look inside me and make their judgement. I only felt that way because I was scared to be judged for who I truly was. I wasn’t looking for validation, I was looking for acceptance. 

For a very long time now, I’ve always felt like a standout. I stuck out like a sore thumb, someone once told me. So, my journey went on. I constantly found ways to be like everyone else, to fit in. To find validation. This carried on for years and I had friends, yeah, when I became like everyone else. But I didn’t know who I was anymore.

It was hard. At first. Telling myself there’s nothing wrong with me. And I found out that others people’s acceptance was incomparable to my own. My own acceptance of myself was the most important. 

So, I started writing more, reading more and I slowly became happier. I’m happy with myself now. Of course, I still have insecurities but I live for the things that make me happy. I want to be happy.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve been ashamed of writing for so many years but it made me happy and helped me accept myself. Shame is not an organic feeling, it’s something that you feel because you think you’re supposed to feel it. 

I’ve been more open about my writing and what I do. With help of friends who actually care for me, I’m starting to accept myself and I’m not as confused anymore.

Writing has helped me, and I’m no longer ashamed or embarassed. I enjoy it and without a doubt, I am a lot happier.

-H.E

Things….

So, if you’ve read anything on my page, you must’ve seen my series, things I like. I enjoy writing those, and I feel like it actually helped me. So, I want to start writing several ‘Things I…’ Series, whatever comes to mind really. Things I hate, things I’m scared of etc.

And even if no one reads these, I hope that this will somehow help me heal and be more comfortable with myself.

It’s somehing that I’d really recommend for people to do, mainly because it’s shown me what I should be happy about, what I shouldn’t be ashamed of and what I can change and how I can heal. It’s a healthy way to get to know yourself. 

-H.E

Things I like: Cold

The cold is numbing. I like the numbing pain that the cold brings, it numbs my soul the way it numbs my toes. It makes me feel nothing and I like it. 

Feeling nothing for a while isn’t a bad thing, just temporarily though. Feeling nothing means you have time to rest from everything around you and think about what you’d like to feel instead of feeling things that people tell you to feel.

It’s a bit hot in England right now. Especially where I live, it’s making me sit in just sweat and it’s not pleasant. I’ve always preferred the cold to the heat. A lot of people disagree, but it’s just so much more satisfying when you’re cold and you warm up than when you’re hot and waiting to not be sticky anymore. 

When you’re hot, you’re just hot and you can’t do much about it unless you have a fan or air conditioning. However, when you’re cold you can hope under your covers or add a few more layers. It’s just a lot more convenient. 

The cold is my warmth. Ironically. 

-H.E

Things I like: Silence vs. Sound

Silence vs. Sound. Which one do I exactly like? I like both, in different circumstances. It’s not absolute, I don’t love one of them and hate the other. I like both, I appreciate both.

Everything in life is balanced between their opposites. You must learn to like and appreciate the both. Just like silence and sound. It takes us a while to adjust, but I guess I like a bit of both. I enjoy the silence because it lets my mind breathe, and gives me myself to talk to, a bit of bonding with yourself is essential, to me at least. However, I enjoy the fun and rowdiness of noise. It makes it seem like I’m not alone, I enjoy being with my friends and the laughter it creates. If I truly have any friends.

Balancing between the both for me, is essential since too much of one is intoxicating and doesn’t really do me a favour. Sometimes I need less of one than the other, and that’s perfectly fine because that’s just what I need for that particular day. Not a 50/50 balance, maybe a 20/80 split is just enough to make me happy.

-H.E

Things I like:

So, recently I’ve been feeling down, and to try and counteract that I’ve been thinking about things that make me happy. I thought that if I wrote down things that made me happy, it’d make me, well… happier. I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit, to see the light amidst everything bad. Trying to give myself hope that maybe one day things will get better.

Things never go the way I want them to, and I’m very emotional. My emotions are like the ocean, any movement and it can cause a wave. Even if I don’t like to admit it, it’s true. I’m very fragile.

It’s more about the little things really, more than the big things. I’d say I’m pretty good at concealing my emotions and acting like I’m okay, but most of the time I’m not. I just want to be with people that genuinely love and care about me.

So, about my feelings and things I like. I decided to start a mini series about things I like and write about them. I think I might do a series of things that make me sad too, to make myself feel more comfortable about me talking about my sadness and what makes me sad because I’ve always felt like it was a bad thing to keep it concealed and hidden, but it’s what I’m used too and I doubt that will ever change. But I’m trying to change, to make myself happier.

-H.E