Moodboard for a branding workshop by Vgrafiks.
Currently trying to process how the logo should look like aaaahhh braindead. 

Moodboard for a branding workshop by Vgrafiks.

Currently trying to process how the logo should look like aaaahhh braindead. 

Overdue clean-up

Deleted every photo. Everything that was taken during the time I couldn’t sleep because I was crying. I don’t even know why the past me wanted to document pain so badly. Random photos that reminded me how happy everyone else was — except me.

On the other hand, I kept everything else. From the ones you tied your hair up to the ones you had with me. And maybe at some point you’d think it’s wrong to keep such things, I don’t mind. Not like I look at it obsessively —- or often either. 

But I guess at times it’s good to be reminded. 

Always the fallback girl. Too bad I’m not falling for it this time. 

On sadness

vivatregina:

Mom and I were talking last night about her friend’s daughter, who is just 18 and going through so much (so much), and is having an impossibly hard time at the height of the most tumultuous and transitional period of her young adulthood, and I remember how hard it was for me. (I didn’t even have to go through half the things this girl has already been through, though we both lost a friend to suicide, and on that point, I could relate.)

And I told Mom, point blank, “She needs to talk to someone.” When we’re in our late teens and off to college, we feel equal parts terrified and grown up. Sometimes the grown up half won’t let us admit to the half that’s scared — we’re adults now, we should be able to take care of ourselves, we’re too old to ask for help or to run to our parents or anyone else for reassurance. We’re scared they won’t take our feelings seriously. We want to prove that we’re grown up and in control. We forget that, in many ways, we’re still growing up. Important ways. At 18, we’re not out of the hormonal woods yet — matter of fact, they’re going strong, heightening everything. Emotions especially. And if you’re as fragile as I was — as I often still am — it’s never a good thing to keep those emotions bottled up.

I managed to manage my own emotions, barely. It was no mean feat, and looking back, I can’t imagine how I pulled it off. I suppose in the interest of full disclosure, and so that if you’re going through troubled times, too, and you need to know that someone out there understands: I understand. I understand depression intimately. I was sad all the time, for no reason that I could comprehend. (I often still am, but I’m better at handling it than I was.) I tried to rationalize with myself: That I had nothing to be sad about, that my life was good, that I was lucky — but I felt sad anyway. And I couldn’t understand why, and it was the most frustrating thing in the world. I used to cut, and I look at the barely visible scarring left on my left wrist — so faint that no one else can see them, but I always know they are there — and I feel so sorry for the teenage girl that I was, who didn’t know how else to channel the emotions, didn’t know how to talk to people (and still doesn’t at times, even at the age of 27), was too proud to seek help, and resorted to physical pain instead.

Please don’t do that. What you’re going through is something we all go through in varying degrees of intensity. Some of us feel it more intensely than others. Some barely feel it at all. But it’s there — that fear, that uncertainty, that hurt, that confusion, that loneliness — it’s there. And you’re not alone in that. If you feel you need to, please, talk to someone. You don’t always have to be so strong — let someone else help you stay standing. You are loved.

There are some things you don’t think you need it until you find it. This post is one of them </3