When I was in high school, I could talk to just about anyone. I spent those years in what I thought were friendships with everyone, from the jocks to the nerds. I walked my own path and didn’t care who approve or didn’t. It was also the same time I went through my goth phase so perhaps my judgment wasn’t the best then.
My father always told me to pick my friends carefully because after high school none of those people would stick around. I always thought he was being weird and didn’t want me to have any friends. Now, all these years later, those people are long gone and are replaced by a semblance of sanity I am becoming accustomed to.
So far, my father was only partially right. I am still very good friends with one person I went to high school with…another pops in and out when it suits him, I suppose.
Over the years, my patience for certain things decreased. I am with the attitude that if it takes too much energy to be your friend or being around you exhaust me in a bad way, then the friendship isn’t working. So far, that mentality has served me well, for it saved me from heartaches–for the most part.
But recently, I’ve been wondering what the point of all this is. Sure, humans aren’t islands. We weren’t built to travel this road on our own. We cannot remain alone for an eternity. Yet, the people we seek, most often than not, becomes thorns that are stuck through our hearts. Especially with the rising popularity of technology, mostly the advent of
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social media and photographs. I look back at pictures and think of the wasted time that was spent being there for that person, trying to cultivate a mutual understanding and build a relationship that one day might be worth something. Sure, we shouldn’t think doing good for someone else is a waste–in actuality, it never is. Being good puts out good karma, if you will, and should, in theory, bring some good karma our way. That’s if you believe in that kind of thing–I suppose. But, I am human and often look back and sigh at the lost of supposed friendship over a lack of communication or even too much communication that had been just talk and nothing of sense.
The point of this blog is to try figuring out what it’s all about. I realize lately that very few of my friends are into anything I am. My thought this entire time was that friends should have things in common. More and more, of late, that sentiment rings true every time You see, from time to time, I have emotions about something strong enough to make me want to share. Then I’ll pick up my phone or jump on my computer and find myself paused to figure out who to tell. Usually, I merely turn my excitement into a muted facsimile of the happiness I’d experienced mere moments prior. My happiness dulled into a status update on a service that half the time doesn’t even show in your ‘friend’s’ news feeds. It then turns my happiness into a never seen cloud of ones and zeros that simply get lost into the void of the interwebs.
What do I mean?
I am a huge fan of Korean pop. At this stage in the game, I am going out on a limb here to say I know more about K-pop than I do of the latest reggae hits. From time to time something big happens in that genre, in that world–a member of one of my favorite group dying, a band I dig disbanding, a member (or two) of another band I love reporting in for mandatory military duties, a new song, a new video, a new movie or drama within the Korean pop culture–the happiness I feel about getting new music is unlike anything I could ever imagine.
But this all disappears the moment I stop and think. The issue is, none of my friends get as excited about a new NCT-U hit like I do. When I figured out the meaning behind Leo & Ravi’s (the first sub unit project for 2 members of Korean super band VIXX) video for Beautiful Liar, I was stuck with that truth simmering to a dying spark inside my chest.
For the most part the people around me lack and understand of why I get so happy and none care to ask. It isn’t their fault–they just aren’t wired that way. Another language to most of them is just too frustrating. Being a hallyu takes time and energy. It is the happy place I flee to when my Muse isn’t doing enough or doing too much. One has to find the music or drama or movie – then watch with subtitles or cultivate online friends of people who speak the language and or does translations for this pieces of media. And there are many other things to learn. So over the years while I add to what a Kpop idol would call me–at this point its about Changjo+Army+VIP+SHAWOL+Starlight+Baby+Cloud+B2UTY+High School+EXOstan (or EXO-L depending on who you ask) – and the list keeps growing – I’ve tried to keep this as demure as possible. That part of this post only a hallyu will understand and that’s cool – we speak our own language, I guess.
My muse is constantly throwing ideas at me for stories. Most often than not, I write it down. And again, most often than not, I have no idea how to flesh most of them out. Again, friends do their own thing and are caught up with that so no one is usually there for me to bounce ideas off. This makes the writing industry twice as hard for basically, I do this on my own. I skim through the dark puddles of my muse’s tantrums and I try to hold on to what is left in the rubble. I scrape together my thoughts mixing and matching until something comes out that makes sense. Then I fight to get things in order, holding the words together with the crazy glue of repeated rounds of edits and a seriously perfect cover artist.
Then, hopefully, by the end of it all, I managed to pull myself above the submerging force of my self-doubt.
And even if that post didn’t get lost in the deluge of it all, it is left standing, alone, with no likes or reaction emoticon. There again, you’re left feeling that it wold be better to not speak at all.
The bottom line is, it really does suck when no one around you enjoys anything you do. It leaves you crumbling under a kind of loneliness very few understands. After a while, I find myself hiding within my own head, and craving the darkness that not having people around brings. After a while, the silence becomes a part of life and soon there is no fear of it.
But sometimes, a certain smell, a sound, a certain song will cause something inside to
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rupture, and once more, I am, trying desperately to lift my head about the water of my discontent.
So what happens next?
Next I keep my world to myself. I see happiness and waits impatiently for the other shoe to drop. I hide my achievements, coming up for air when I am forced to by my body breaking down. I crash, go dark for a day then reappear again like a lack luster phoenix losing its flames. I pushed through what is at the edge of my world and when the time comes repeat the breaking cycle again and again.
I yearn for a change and something different. I push to write stories that I can get lost in. I busy myself with the fight for my lost peace of mind and try to keep from explaining to people that the struggle is indeed real. For keeping it silent keeps the tears from falling. I am one of those strange people who detest feeling helpless and being lost in this chasm of uncertainty and unforgiving continuum is the prime definition off helplessness.
The answer in this case is simple. It is a simple three word sentence.
I. Don’t. Know.
The most I can say is that I should probably keep on breathing. That I should hide away from the world when the weight of my ignorance becomes too much. I suppose, my writing will always be the force that keeps me afloat though, sometimes I get to that dark place where I don’t want to do it anymore. There should be more to life than being born. Working. Then dying. There has to be more to life than a morbid outlook of what the next day, month, year will bring. There must be more to life than breaking under the realization of how truly insignificant we all are.
The issue now becomes how do we figure out what that ‘more’ is? How do we figure out if we want ‘more’ or if we even deserve it? If we’re lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to find that answer, will it be what we wanted to hear or will it bring more hurt than good in our lives?