@SeverinaAugustine 22 October 2025 more from that month

Oh, Nothing. Just Blabbering.

***Who am I?*** The question I constantly ask myself. I wonder every day why I can't define it without thinking about it thoroughly. Am I really depressed? Or am I already healed and just find it incomplete now that my depression is gone? Is my life really complicated, or am I just making it complicated? Are my hobbies really my hobbies? Or am I just going with the flow? Do I really love the things that I love? Or is it just making me look cool? Maybe I really do know who I am, but I can't show it to other people because they might not understand the way I think. So, if someone asks me what kind of person I am, maybe I can say something. I'm the eldest child, a child who was forced to take on responsibility at a young age. I don't blame my parents for the person I've become. In fact, I'm grateful, because it made me a responsible person in everything I do. The sad part is, I expect everyone to be the same. But not everyone was raised that way, and sadly, that's something I’m still learning to accept. Not everyone takes accountability for their decisions and mistakes. Some expect others to simply forget what they did and go on living peacefully, as if nothing bad ever happened, not realizing they inflicted a wound that will never disappear. I'm a broad-minded person. Sounds positive, right? But it has led to long-suffering. My mom unconsciously taught me to be this way not by words but by example. I saw her accepting everything and keeping her opinions silent to avoid conflicts. My mom is overly accommodating, submissive, spineless, and lenient. I love her so much that I would fight the whole world for her, but these traits are what I don’t like. She stays silent because she believes everyone is better than her but that is not true. She is the most brilliant person I know. But because of what I'm seeing as a kid, I adopt it that it's a good thing. Make some of it my personal traits and make me suffer in a long run. My dad is the most giving person I know. Even if he has nothing left, he will still give everything. He is skilled at everything. Life lessons? He has plenty. Home improvement and repairs? Electrical and automotive? Name it, he knows it. He’s a people person. He can talk to a stranger casually and become friends right away. Maybe that’s what I got from him. I’m always eager to learn. But you know what? I also got something from him that isn’t clearly positive. It’s the idea of “fake it till you make it.” The positive side is that I can use this to survive in this world because honestly, everything here feels fake. You might find something real, but most of it, ugh. Living in this fake world has taught me some lessons too. Laziness destroys everything. A guy might not cheat but if he is too lazy to make his girl feel loved, too lazy to send her flowers, ask her out on a date, write her a letter, talk about the future and actually follow through then it does not matter. And if he is too lazy to keep truly getting to know his girl, that is just as damaging. In my case, when I'm at home, I get lazy most of the time, especially when I have someone with me. It feels like a total shutdown. I stop replying to everyone. I leave my clothes everywhere, dishes pile up unwashed and rotting in the sink (well, maybe I’m exaggerating), and my stinky self just lies in bed while everything around me is in chaos. Because of that laziness, I stopped making an effort to talk to other people, especially men. It has been more than a year since my last relationship, or I should say situationship, and since then I stopped talking. Now I find myself wondering, is there really someone out there for me? Or is the person destined for me just an infant right now? Or maybe he is already gone? I hope not. I keep saying that I do not want to have a child, that I am not ready. But honestly, I want to have a baby. I want to feel a tiny person kicking inside my belly. I want to give him or her the world, together with their father. I want to raise that child right, in a family full of love and guided by God's words. I am praying that someone will come and prove to me that there is someone perfect for me, not just characters in the stories I have written and am still writing. The sad part of this passion of mine, which is writing, is that I constantly live in a fantasy. I build new worlds and imagine things that do not belong in the world I live in. I hope someone will come and bring vivid colors to my dull world. Light and bright colors made by two steady paintbrushes. Colors that are real, not just the ones I see in my gouache palette. Writing this made me realize that I am not depressed anymore. Maybe I am anxious, but I am no longer someone who is drowning in the deep end. Maybe I am sad, jealous, hurt, tired, and overthinking. I do not just want these feelings to stop; I want to solve them so I can finally say that this is over. I am sad because I feel alone. I am jealous in every aspect. I am hurt because it is really hard to move on, to build yourself up only to be broken again. I am tired of starting from square one and overthinking all of it. I just want to be me. Then again, I go back to asking myself, *who am I?* *How can I stop giving a fuck about everything?* Maybe I do not need to stop giving a fuck about everything. Maybe I just need to learn what is worth caring about and what is only weighing me down. Maybe I do not have to fully know who I am right now. Maybe it is enough that I am searching, that I am trying, that I am still here. I am not the person I was before. I am not yet the person I want to be. But I am becoming. Slowly, painfully, honestly—becoming. And maybe that is enough for now.