Back in the days when Xanga was still a thing, whatever personal and private that I wanted to express, I put it there as if it’s my very own special tree hole. It knew my happiness, sadness, anger, and fear so well. And now I’m gonna treat this like Xanga and say whatever I want.
. . .
I’m so very ashamed of myself!
My doctor always reminds me of the importance to let go, but it’s so abstract and difficult that i wish there was a pill that helps me do so.
I feel so ashamed that I’m far behind all of my friends and family. Everyone has moved on and had new circles of friends and acquaintances since graduation, and all this time I’ve been dealing with this illness only.
I feel so ashamed that I’ve gained so much weight due to these years of taking sleeping pills, antidepressants, and antipsychotics. I eat and drink so little already! I feel so ugly inside out.
I feel so ashamed that while my sister’s already expecting her baby boy very soon, I’m still unsure of what, who, where I want myself to be and be with. I’m only living on the surface day after day.
I feel so ashamed that eating with my family at home can give me so much pressure, to a point that I want to kill myself. All my life my family never ever cooked at home and eating together was never a tradition. But now that my sister’s pregnant, she always comes home with Alvin and mom would cook for them. They would have so much to talk and gossip about so loudly, and I feel like my privacy’s been invaded and destroyed. They’ve already bought the apartment in the next tower, so I can safely expect family dinner to be a new tradition.
I feel so ashamed that I’m not who I wanted myself to be.
I feel so ashamed that I’m ashamed.
. . .

I miss my friends so much, but it just feels safer not to reply anyone at all because I’m afraid of how I’m gonna react. I only wish to let them see the happy side of bu’s instead of my depressing side. I don’t wanna bother them when they already have so much on plate. I don’t remember how to have friends and hang out with them. I know they care about me, but I’m scared of being a burden.
. . .

I hate you, bipolar.
Because you make me see the worst of myself and loathe myself in a way that I couldn’t possibly imagine.
. . .
I wish, I wish, I wish I could go back in time and never have mental illnesses. I know I’m luckier that those who have far worse accidents or cancer…but it’s not an easy journey either.
Dr. Leung said that I can start anew without a time machine.

May 24, 2018




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