How did I become such a joke?

Thursday, November 14

I dont get it how my life just feels like one big joke that everybody's laughing at (even God). I’m going to be honest, I’m probably not the nicest at times but I never mean to hurt feelings unless provoked and I’m not mean without reason. 

As I sit to type this, I was holding a hot brownies in the mug, as cold as my heart is right now, I felt so much better with the idea of baking a-minute-brownies to save me up from this misery tonight. I really need to get this thought off my chest. 

Let me remind you that I am a normal human being. I'm like you, I also have people I look up to and people I wish I could be. As if being myself isn't enough. These past four years, you, my readers, my family and my friends, know me as who I portray on a daily basis. A young writer, music enthusiast, a sick girl who Instagram-ed her lunch, who is a lucky lady that gets to travel and share stories, and went off from the world for almost a year and so and started to write back.That is 100% true. However, as I said before, I am a human being. I have flaws.

I have my own struggles. Where I dont think the need to list everything down here because of course it's weird to mention it here and I dont want you people thinking that I am seeking for an attention (which obviously is not my idea when I first started this blog). I had enough with everything already, I just dont get it how some people find it fun to add some more shits into my bag, or maybe these people are just against happiness.

I have been taunted and called names. I've also been cursed and accused with adjectives I truly despise. Why and by whom you may ask. I think I've been growing up with my friends making fun of me. When I'm in a group of my friends, I am the only subject people focus on to make jokes of, and the end of the day, I would just laughed at myself for being a little dumb shit and no one even care about what I feel. I remind myself that it was just a joke, for fuck sake, I shouldnt really give a fuck about that, but in the end, I just caught up in between making people laugh and making myself look stupid.

It's not that I am an anti-joke but really, I dont think it is still a joke if you're making fun of people on how they looked like, where they came from, what they do for living, what they have on, how their visual differ from normal people do. People should limit their self to some point of making fun of others. You dont know the people you called fat, she starved herself. You laughed at the people who collect the box out from the bins, he work every night to support his only daughter for her study. You made fun of that girl who wears the same plain shirt, her allowance is not enough for her to get nice clothes, just enough for her to survive her days in college. The old man you made fun of cause of the ugly scars, he fought for our country. 

I have limit. Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I am kind to everyone; but, when someone is unkind to me, weak is not what you are going to remember about me. I wouldnt mind if you called me fat, but if you think that I am fat because I just wanna make myself seems like a joke to everyone, well maybe you just need a fistbump (on your face). I wouldnt mind if you think my fluorescent satchel bag I carried is funny you would make fun of me with that all day long, but you need to know my satchel is worth more than your health insurance. I wouldnt mind if you think I'm such a dumb for not capable to memorize a page of speech, I dont mind at all, at least I know how to speak well than you without that scripted shit. I dont mind at all about what you think about me, really. 

And if you think my writings are such a joke, you shouldve stop reading them at the first place. Why waste your time reading shits wrote by me? If you think me whining on being miserable and pathetic is funny, maybe you should just leave me alone. If you think I write because I craves for fame, you are such a waste of space,  blogging is not all about popularity.

I write because I dont have anyone to talk to, and this is the only thing I could do from anchoring deep down the dark place. I write because I'm used to living alone and writing down my thoughts that bugged me instead telling anyone, because you know what? At the end of the day you would just make fun of me when I opened up to you. Now you know what I hate the most; when I opened up to someone I trust and they judged me.

And next time when you make fun of me, I hope it stills funny when you're in hell.