My days have been hard. It’s finals week, so they have to be. It is, like, some unwritten rule or something.
I am longing for better days of sun, sand, and Disney.
I have my first final of sophomore year today. English 203 – Medieval Literature. Let me tell you, it sounds exciting, but it is very much the opposite. I haven’t disliked reading this much since…since…I cannot even think of time!
But yesterday when I woke up, I did my usual roll-over-in-bed-to-look-at-Facebook ritual. I opened the webpage and there was one of those “memories” notifications. Remember what happened last time I looked at one of those? Yeah, not so fun. Regardless, I decided to look back on what I had done on this fine December 7th in past years. (PS It is also the anniversary of Pearl Harbor, in case you did not know!)
So I scrolled down to 2010, way back when I was a teeny little high school freshman. I posted a status that day.
I wasn’t kidding. Just letting you know. I think about it everyday. I’m not so scared of the pain anymore. I hope you feel like that’s a bad thing because I’m feeling that it’s not. Not for a while.
Those words chilled me to the core. “I’m not so scared of the pain anymore.” They have been repeating themselves to me all day long. There’s not enough Canterbury Tales or Dante that could drown it out.
This was such a low point for me, and I remember only a few months later when it got so much worse. When I scratched the word “help” into my arm. And it was true, the pain didn’t bother me anymore, which only made me want to scratch harder and deeper. I wanted–no, I needed–to feel something.
With Jino’s passing and his funeral on Friday (which I unfortunately had to miss), it hurt me to see myself at such a low point. And while I was at the library, someone posted a video they showed at Jino’s memorial. It took everything in me to hold back tears. My mind went straight to that status.
Why I posted that on Facebook, I am really not sure. A cry for help is all I can think of. I couldn’t blatantly explain my thoughts and I couldn’t tell my family. It seemed that publishing my private thoughts on the internet would work.
Has much changed?
In a way, yes. I blog about my thoughts and my feelings because it helps me release them. And there is the chance that someone else can read them and be touched by them. Five years ago, I just needed help. I didn’t have a voice. Now, I do. And I use it.
No, I am most definitely not as publicly passive aggressive, but I see that as a very good thing. I think it is helping my passive aggressiveness in general.
But seeing where I was then and comparing it to where I am now…I wish I could tell fifteen year-old me how wonderful life will be. I wish I could tell her that her life really wasn’t so bad. I wish I could explain that yes, she can reach out to people. Don’t bottle it up inside.
And I wish I could tell Jino these things.
We always wonder what could have been, and this was one of those days. This was one of those days to appreciate just how far I have come, and it is there to motivate me to help others. Because–and I know everyone will tell you this–it gets better. You don’t think that until it happens. I had zero hope for the future back then, but look where I am now.
I still struggle, but I know that there is light in my life.
And right now, that is all I have to say about that. Time to get back to cramming and chugging coffee. Only a few more days…