People will never comprehend the reality of my emotions. They just won't understand what it feels like to taste euphoria day to day, and then on the next, feel like you're attending your own funeral.

It's turbulent.

Last year, it actually felt more like my room was in a chilly, gray hospital ward, and I was supposed to die in there due to terminal illness. In my last days, nobody would even visit. There was no one but me, on my deathbed of nightmares, dying slowly.

The tattoo on my left wrist was made to cover self-inflicted scars. I remember saying, over and over, “I'm worthless, I'm worthless,” while I cut myself using a blunt razor blade. I wasn't trying to kill myself; I was just harming, hurting myself, forcing the pain to bleed out of me.

“My fuck buddy will never love me and share a deeper relationship because I am worthless.”

My thoughts, exactly, even though I also knew that he just wasn't ready or prepared to open up to someone else.

I blamed it on myself. Perhaps I wasn't pretty or interesting enough; I was not lovable, only good for quick fucks. I never really thought that people who had hurt him, or Life the Bitch, was really to blame. That he had his issues, too.

I had never felt so worthless in all my life. Before him, I was ghosted by this sun-tanned beautiful boy. I sobbed when I realized for the first time that it was just so easy for people to drop me. All happiness can evaporate and fade away in a single day, upon the receipt of a sour text message (or none at all). It hurt that they couldn't even say proper goodbyes. I just felt like trash.

Fast forward to many surf trips, hook ups, and a couple exes, I learned that I was not to blame, not at all. Hey, there's something different to see here!

You know, girl, what people decide to do in their lives doesn't say anything about you or define you; if anything, it only says about the kind of people they are.

And it just so happened that the people I stupidly fell for were just selfish, confused, emotionally-damaged twenty-somethings. I just had an accident! How could I have known the future right away? I had to gamble in order to know, in order to sustain my quest for love and thrill — and in gambling, there's always the chance of misjudgements and failure.

And regardless, it wouldn't change the fact that I was still a pretty awesome human being with talents, a big heart, rounded eyes, and a way-above-minimum-wage salary.

(I shouldn't really be crying and hurting myself. They were no loss. It's not like they stole brownie points from me, nah, my life stays awesome as it is. I just got to realize it, and not let the negativity eat the best of me.)

People are so hard to figure out, I think I just want to give up, like fuck.

I wonder why you had to treat me so nicely, only to end up tossing me into a garbage bin on the next day. Why did you ask me to stay the night after we fucked, instead of letting me go home? How could you be so nice only to use it as a currency for buying sex from me? If you didn't intend to love me, then why didn't you just fuck me, instead of making passionate love to me?

Somebody told me that it was just part of a play, a stage performance. And I was foolish enough to believe it, oblivious enough to the fact that what I considered sacred could mean nothing more than a thirst quencher to some.

Enough of blaming myself. Enough of loathing on other people for not comprehending the reality of my emotions. It's not anybody's fault that I tend to fall swiftly, more intensely, impulsively, with no careful thought (only delusional fantasy) because my mind has a hard time producing emotions that actually makes sense according to the situation.

I'm high functioning. I act like a normal person. Beneath it all though, is a turbulent storm that could either make it rain flowers, pixie dust, and falling stars, or make it shower with daggers that stab me and burn my skin like acid.

I cling to happy times. I seek them. I enjoy life to the fullest whenever I can. I truly believe that everything will eventually be okay, if I just hang on and wait for it to pass. I know with absolute certainty that something astoundingly beautiful will be on its way, because life's like that: bleak and pretty.

And that's why I haven't stopped. I continue to live and to feel through the storm. Life is a two-faced gift.

This post was originally published in Bleak and Pretty by Mia Alcantara. http://bleakandpretty.tk