2021: The Wrapping Up
2021 was a mesh of bits and little pieces of just about everything. And as much as how I badly do not want to make such a big deal out of leaving behind the year and into the new fresh chapters of my life rolling in, I cannot help but feel a deep sense of joy and peace as I think about and look back on the days that have built me into becoming and being as of the person that I am today.
For starters, I am not going to lie of how the former year has been really very tough for me as well just as like everybody else. I remember how the first couple of months felt like torture especially with the thought of how all the difficult situations we are all forced to face from the year 2020 have only worsen day by day. My depression was at its high time and for weeks and months I was a walking empty shell of a human. Hope has left me blank on the inside, and those times, I can only remember pushing through every waking minute as if I am a dust, floating. Like a feather being swayed in the air with no directions to go or home to come back to. I felt like I was a fleeting moment—as if I'm one with the passing days. Or the weather. And to be honest, I do not have any memory of my first months in 2021. I could no longer recall anything despite trying to think about the few big highlights such as birthdays and holidays.
It is painful to think about. Because everytime, I can only feel like I was robbed of my time and of some of my memories. And for some time, I was angry at myself. For letting down the only person I have with me forever. I was angry for I have failed to take care of myself. And for beating up my soul into pulp like some bully just because I was hurt and needed some time. That anger made me grit my teeth whenever I look at the mirror long enough, it scarred my jaw. And it might have only cost me more pain, but, I'd like to think that I needed that fiery confessions of anger for myself. The flames softened my walls and I realized that I was only being a human. Feelings of anger, hate, disgust, and love... they all differ but at some point, they all need to be exerted with effort to exist into being. And feeling all such sort of emotions towards myself could only mean one thing: I am being given of such efforts and thus, I am worthy.
2021 has given me the chance to look at myself eye to eye. To listen and accept my being and my preferences and dislikes. It gave me time to learn becoming accountable of healing and putting such into actual practice. I learned how to be grounded and see into the world. And I cannot ever stress enough how calming it feels to actually embrace the depths and the shallow parts of yourself, because right then you get to understand and also see the best in people and every situations. I learned how to accept and heal. And it was not an easy process but the steps of each of those days with that were surely fruitful and I can only say they are really beautiful just because. And although I still sometimes find myself spiraling down the harsh blues and violets in life, but I guess having to be able to relearn how to be a bit kinder to myself from the past year could really make the year 2022 a bit more warmer to the eyes for me. And for that, I am grateful and hopeful.
*(Happy new year, everyone! Wishing you all a healthy and joyful fresh chapters! And I welcome home, 2022.)*
Hellooo, you probably haven't noticed, but I'M BAAAAACK! I just got over my depressing holiday hangover and I have finally posted an article after 3 painfully short weeks. Overcoming katamaran is never a piece of cake jud. Give it a read if you would like and I'd love to hear your thoughts rin :) Danke
When Does Silence Kills You?
**Silence is a very crucial thing.** Or perhaps it may be a concept, or an ideology. But, either anything, it sure is another of the many double-edged swords everyone bears just like our words and even like its contrasting concept and that is of speaking up. For either side of the blades, it can always empower and kill us all at any time.
I grew up listening to other people and the world more than taking my own fair share of sweet time spewing my mind. And my ground, the environment that I grew up with also played a big part as to how that blossomed wildly into a habit, and sooner a personality. I was known as a shy, proper, and behave child next to my little sister, who by the way, got the title as “the sibling who doesn’t know how to speak,” because of how she doubled my shyness and wore it like a lucky charm and also due to her bad anxiety. Being known by people as something as this and that sears and embosses a mark in you. It can be pretty or bloody and messy, but, either of those, it always leaves a huge puddle of chaos you have to tend to yourself all alone as if your the master of the party. And it frames you in a murder because it always have your growth chained by your doors.
Nevertheless, today, I spoke up. I took off what people branded me as ever since growing up. I burned the mark the world tattooed on my skin and it made a series of cacophonies that still ring and bounce off echoes in me until this moment. And it sounded so badly and deafening, but, the burns felt good. Today, I looked at my shadow. Eye to eye. I realized that it has deep dark irises as I do, and for the first time, I thought it was beautiful. Today, I bit my lip and decided to put down my pen and instead, roll out my tongue. Today, I did not mind how I sound like. I was always like that whenever I speak. I am a very meticulous person when it comes to my melodies and flow, but, today, I was never. Instead, I held my words and looked at them. I caressed their curves and lines and hollows and watched their every crevices. I cradled them like a small child at peace and sleeping and it was also today that I dropped them off like a parent watching her grown kids jump into a swimming pool, into the world.
Today, I built an argument and fought for my place against my abuser. I used to be so bad with my anger management skills but I made it today without raising my voice and fumble for my tongue. It made my fingers shake for some good hours, but my dive into that pool never felt so good than anything ever in my life. And even though the fall set me free, it broke the stillness of my world and a few of my bones. Because that is what honesty does to you. It slaps you, quick and heavy, and hands you down with a warm, comforting smile slathered with assurance of having another chance.
Silence is sophistication. It reeks of power and authority. But never all the time. Because other times it can also be a sign of toleration. It is what fuels for people to do the unspeakable and never get caught. Silence can be the fires that engulf bridges and burns them down and can be the deep waters that drags a person into suffocation and back to where they are born from.
*Lead Image* https://weheartit.com/entry/359905992?context_query=mouth+aesthetic&context_type=search
*(Hello! I hope your doing well and thank you so much for getting up to this far. If you have insights related to my article or you may want to share your experiences dealing with overcoming your silence the moment it turned deadly, please do not hesitate to comment down below. I would love to hear your thoughts too. Have a great one!)*
On Grief: Remembering Our Lost Dreams
https://linfigue.tumblr.com/post/612820871417069568/httpspinitwwwhmkghcyqbwd?fbclid=IwAR0cbWWsm4HaDFs5MmunxORqsUIyZIfqNhZzIfQS4KxvsKOxwBXVA3udvks
Tell me about the dream you had for yourself back when you were six. What was it like? By any chance, have you become the person you pictured on that very same dream now? How about the ones you made for yourself at 3 in the morning with the world dark and asleep back when you were 13? And the ones you built when you were 16 or 18 or 20? What happened to those dreams? Have you lived them as they were supposed to be, or did time hold them back from you? As if they were prisoners being kept inside the folds of your memories of those ages like what happened to the most of mine.
I was not much of a dreamer. The upbringing of my family molded me into becoming someone who only has their eyes in the present—right at the focal point of every moment of time. We never really talk about the past and what we pray for the future at home and it affected how I became as a total person. I never had any huge, life-determining kind of dreams such as what profession I would like to take and achieve, not even when I was close to applying for university. However, I love making multiple of little dreams here and there such as wishing what I would like to have for dinner later, or to receive a message from a crush, and the many of that kind of things. And losing those little dreams whilst also not being able to own myself one of those beautiful pictures of hope for tomorrow conjured a huge surge of deep oceanic blues in me that since then, never really left me.
People have contrasting perceptions about the concept of pursuing and losing our little dreams. Others see these dreams as fleeting and tend to look at them with very less value. A perception to which when one loses their dreams, they expect the person to move on in a blink, taking away their time and right to grieve on what was lost. And it is so unfortunate and sad as to how this situation happens so oftentimes that in some cases, it becomes something close to a lifestyle. People don't even have to talk about it happening as it is already what's expected of us to flow with whatever it would be that is about to unfold.
This reminds me of one of my favorite routines that I do back in 2019, when I was still a freshman in college. The social system was a bit too much for me to easily get the hang of the reason why I used to spend and kill most of my time alone in this certain small food and coffee store a couple of blocks outside the university. It was just a very small space enough for a couple of people to hang around with, yet the vacuousness of it was what caught my eye. I love being alone most of the time, and at that time, it felt like the universes had aligned as I thought to myself of finally finding my safe haven. It was my go-to place and the very site that sealed and craddled my worries away about not having any place that I can belong to amidst the city and the foreign academic atmosphere I was shoved and enrolled to. But, after the lockdown and the implementation of the first quarantine, my tie to this place was halted. I had to go back to home and miss the flavor of my favorite usual order of cup of coffee until today.
I never get to talk about this little part of myself. About this little loss from my everyday lifestyle. Not to my parents or friends—not to anybody. And it is sad thinking about how I have to feel this feeling of holding myself back from bringing it up when despite how simple it seems, the amount of nostalgia and loneliness I feel when I remember it, is massive. And to be honest, we do not even have to feel the emotion of embarrassment and so as to holding back, because every little dream we have is as valuable as the big ones. They deserve to be talked about with equal pride and passion. And it is totally valid that we also grieve for their lost too, no matter how long it takes to feel alright again.
**You deserve it.**
Lead Image Source https://linfigue.tumblr.com/post/612820871417069568/httpspinitwwwhmkghcyqbwd?fbclid=IwAR0cbWWsm4HaDFs5MmunxORqsUIyZIfqNhZzIfQS4KxvsKOxwBXVA3udvks
*(Hello, loves! Thank you for passing by and giving this article a read. I would very much also love to hear from you about your little dreams and the ones that you lost as well and how you felt about it. Just remember that it's okay to grieve even just for the things that seem simply and small. Your feelings are and will always be valid. xoxo)*
Before Trilogy: How Do We Know if Someone is The One? | Part 1
*(Lead image from Film-grab.com and edited in Picsart.)*
Romantic indie films do really have this fascinatingly wonderful yet invisible force that never fails to draw out our hopeless and hopeful romantic sides, feeding the hunger for love we do not know resides within us. From *The Notebook* to *When Harry Met Sally*, and the *500 Days of Summer,* up to the *Before Trilogy*—which was my most recently watched (and by recent, I meant something like 2 months ago when all was well and my heart full), one can never get bored binging the very reason that sparks our wishes to also experience the famous kissing in the rain scenes or even just the "randomly bumping at each other in the streets with our one true love" situation.
I have long heard of Before Trilogy but I only ever watched it fully in the month of October this year. It came to me through suggestions from friends and I was truly fascinated as to how they all said similar reviews about how good the films were to which thereafter I finished, I say were all true. And I swore that after the credits of the last film of the trilogy rolled, I was a whole new different person! The trilogy became my favorite movie until now, and I say that the very day I finished all three was one of the most beautiful and almost perfect days I had except the part where I watched it with someone who no longer is part of my everyday life.
I do not hate the memory nor am I still sad about the parting of ways that happened between the person and me. It was such a very beautiful memory we shared and I do not regret having to share it with him. I even remember how we had this very smart and luscious discourse and argument about our insights and takeaways from the films. It was so sexy for me because of how deep and raw and comfortable it was. And it was just so rare that despite us no longer connected now, I cannot help but still crack a smile whenever it crosses my mind.
Nevertheless, there was this one argument we had that stuck with me. It was the one where we pondered together about the nature of meeting and falling in love with the wrong people only to get shattered from the broken hopes for the what could have been's, and how that seem to be a cycle we have to undergo because how do we know if a person is the one and spare ourselves from possible heartbreaks when there is no sign anywhere for any of us?
The first installment of the trilogy titled Before Sunset shows how human connections work. How our linkages with each other can happen anytime, anywhere in the most random places and moment in time. And those chances are fleeting like specks of snowflakes that could go blown by the wind in a breath and we could be losing or gaining just the best of the connection we could ever have depending on what we choose to do—to move forward first and finally ask that cute blonde girl across you in the train about the book she's holding or you just let your thinking twice get the best of you, letting the moment slip because of how you think that guy with a really nice smile may not be looking at you at all as oppose to what you're thinking and wishing. This part of life tells us that our person could be just anyone and we don't even know. They could be that girl beside you standing in the condiments aisle in the grocery store or the guy you're seeing on TV.
And this total randomness of the unknown may be scary for the most of us because we could also be wrong with what we may be thinking and believe in. But don't you think that maybe that sense of unsureness is the greatest part of finding love? Because the unknown pushes us to take that little risks in between every seconds and you might not be aware of it. It is the reason why we get to build countless of good and even the unlikely memories with other people although they are not our endgame—which have built us as the people we are today and how we look at love and life after the cracks have made their sound.
***So how do we really know if someone is the one for us?***
The answer is simple. ***We do not.***
Because if we do, then the surprise of it all would have been spoiled for us right from the beginning. And also, maybe if we do, then I would not have even tried to make that conversation with the guy I watched the trilogy with. And if I didn't make it, then I would have never get to own those beautiful conversations and arguments we had that I treasured a lot and I probably still won't be listening to Keshi today just so if ever—which is a massive loss for me. So, go get that chance, love, because the existence of "the one" is a mesh of stories and experiences a person achieves after every heartbreaks and success. And maybe, just maybe, your person still needs that lesson from whomever they are with today to become the best for you.
**How about you? How do you think if someone is the one for you? Tell me about your thoughts in the comment section.**
*(Hello, loves! I hope you had fun reading this article and I wish I have inspired you guys to not lose hope with finding and waiting for the right persons for us who will be as ready as we are when we get right into the very moment. Let us continue to love, shall we?)*
Hello, loves! Just published my very first article! It's an article about my realizations with loving one's self amidst the pandemic and how I am currently also doing that. It's something close to my heart as it was a transparent window of my personal situation right now. I hope you have a good time and I would appreciate it lots if you come by and spare me a couple of your time. I also wish to influence you, guys to loving yourself better as you all deserve it. xoxo
Here's the link: https://read.cash/@Claementine/the-moment-i-first-learned-how-to-listen-53d6e342
The Moment I First Learned How To Listen
**I thought I was so in love with myself.** And it is important that you understand that I do not fall easily. You see, I only fall for those who see the world in multiple of shades and pages. And that was how I thought I was back in 2019.
I remember when everything used to move freely and when touch was something we could still devour just anytime we wish, I thought I have found who I really am. I was 18 and everything felt real—it was all far from good and right, but I saw things and how they really look like. Or so how I thought they do. This perception of myself, I believe, stemmed from how I grew up blessed to have the opportunity of indulging myself in the comforts of knowledge written down in books around me. I am a big fan of storytelling and I was able to hear and read stories of people all around the world and witness the immense stretch of magic a person has in their body and all the treasures they could do with it, and that inspired me to become a person who sees the better in everyone and everything and the kind who has their doors open wide for understanding differences. And with that, I thought I was better. I thought I understood that the realities in life goes beyond the multicolored dreams we have projected in films and songs. And maybe that's true. But I was a firm believer of that—of how life is more of a grey than white, and I built my youth thinking like that. I was cynical and I did not noticed how detached I had been not until the lockdown hit me straight in the face.
When the pandemic happened and the first quarantine lockdown was implemented, I realized how I took advantage of so many things all in the name of proving myself upright. I learned that amongst the many unfortunate events and negative influences that killed my youth, I, myself, also stood at the front and was even the one who pulled the trigger. I now understand how cruel I have been to myself all those years and time in the past for keeping myself from breathing and actually living just so I become something that would fit the little miss perfect of a narrative that people around me have of me. And all those months in isolation from what used to be my world have been a rollercoaster ride. I had my bad days. And they were so bad and they lasted so long that I have learned how to accept the fact that it's okay to be messed up. I have learned how to recognize the things that are out of my control and that it is fine to yield and step back once they happen. And with that, I had my better times.
I have told you about my fascination with storytelling and hearing other people's stories. Yet with the silence of the vacant spaces the lockdown has left beside me, I have come to see how hypocrite I was with that specific fancy of mine. Because for years and years, I have shut down the own storyteller in me. And although I am not very good with words, I know I have so much to say. I held my silence, craddling it in my arms like a trophy despite the heavy and the bruise it cost me for years, and I am wounded. These wounds painted me another picture of myself—crimson and abstract, from where I realized finding ourselves is not a one-time thing. Because in us is a vast cosmic novel of lives created with the every single memory, song, flavor, and step we make, included the ones we have gained from how our strings got tangled with other people's. This journey is what marks the truth as to how life changes like the weather and how we can always choose to live that multicolored dream-like subplots in our favorite rom-com movie. For you see, anything can be done. Because truly living is a choice just as like how letting yourself be human and learning how to still love yourself still despite the bad is.
*(I hope you guys enjoy this article, haha! the title is kinda lame because i could not think of anything better especially it's already 11 PM here and this is my first time so I'm still all over the place and still trying to get the hang of it all. Thanks for coming by if you did. I appreciate it a lot. xoxo)*
@Claementine
