Maybe it's a destiny I can't run away from.

The odds are scientifically not in my favor anyways.

Lost a friend. Living in a House of cards. Have no future. The things that give me temporary joy dwindle day by day. The last wall of defense made up of pills and doctor visits are crumbling.

I'm trying, so fucking hard. Trying to hold on, still. But my grip is slipping

Can't wake up from this one because I'm not asleep. Everyday I find myself in my worst nightmare. The pictures follow me around, smiles of a child who believed, stare back at the adult who failed. Everything I vowed that I shall not be is turning into what I find myself forced into being. And the knowledge destroys me over and over, a hell that burns with flames ever lasting.

Can't stay, can't leave. Sleep is a depletable furlough. Its cousin sings such a alluring lullaby, whispering ways to visit when my feet gives, knees and tears be damned.

Sometimes I think one night stands happen all the time. Not in the form of sex but in the form of using someone else to make themselves feel good. People pop into your life, get to know you and you get to know them and just when you thought you guys were doing fine they start asking you personal questions to get a rough idea where you are on the life accomplishment measurement scale. Then after feeling gleeful that you are beneath them, after they get their sadistic fix, they disappear, leaving you empty and cheated and played and disillusioned at humanity.

You keep giving them chances to be better people but it always ends up the same. And you find yourself alone and wonder, "Who am I? I like to think that I am a good person and I think I carried myself the best I could as how I think a good person should be but I all cut up and here in this empty room. Is is a punishment? But if this is a punishment, doesn't that mean I was a bad person to have done something to deserve this punishment?"

Don't show them how bad it hurts and don't let them know how much you need help. Because the disappointment will make the pain worse and hey, when it happens and then when they know how truly bad it got, at least you won't be around to give a fuck anymore.

The problem with this affliction is that when it feels good, it feels supremely good and later, it will feel just as supremely bad. The higher you go, the further down you'll fall. I want good things to happen in my life. But every time when I allow myself to believe that good things might happen, every time I try to be normal and live a life like how a normal person would - allow myself to possibly yearn for good things to happen like a normal person - I get brutally reminded that I am not and never will be normal. I cannot feel the good without anticipating the bad. I cannot feel the good without  a visit from the bad eventually. I cannot feel the good without paying too heavy a price later.

Maybe I should reconsider ECT.

I hate everything about this place. I hate the unkind people. I hate the culture of the endless rat race. I hate the cesspool environment of mindless conformity. I hate the unrelenting blistering weather. I hate the incompetent AND shamelessly self overpaying government. I hate the way the government made housing autonomy a financial hardship. I hate the people's cowardice to use their collective power to stop the perpetual infliction of ill thought out policies by voting out the imbecile policy makers. I hate that it will take me years to escape. I hate that by the time I do, the peak of my life would be gone. I hate that my country values economic success so much it willingly trades its citizens' fundamental freedoms and the value of its citizenship. I hate that a revolution might not happen and that my country will slowly rot away, falling from grace and left to languish in mediocrity.

Had the most intense session with the Talking Shrink yesterday.

No one has ever really come to me asking me what's going on inside. Yeah the parentals notice but how am I to let them know anything? They won't understand and I'll be watched over like a hawk eyeing a mouse. How's anyone to understand really, truly anyways? The constant normalcy of singing the same old damn tunes of an epic sense of misery that stems from every pore of my being with no understanding as to where it originated from. Sure, I'm clinically diagnosed now but putting a name to whatever it is doesn't really help when it gets really bad.

Reading what happened when I was really unwell took me by surprise. Know how sometimes you don't know what is the real cause of something and when someone suggest an answer, you at least know that THAT's definitely not it? So the case with The Irish Girl being with someone else is really not an issue. It's more of the fact that I feel I'm too messed up to pursue that possibility at happiness and that saddens me. Because I feel that she can do better, even though I know that I could the best if it wasn't for this affliction I'm stuck with. And that the stereotype and stigma of a "psycho" makes me feel like I shouldn't inflict myself upon anyone.

Years. It has been years. More then a decade and I'm not even anywhere close to thirty. How long more do I have before the thoughts of devastating my sister, my best friends and my parents no longer hold me back? I hold this facade up so well, fooling everyone, even the Medication shrink.

I've been trying though. To be as honest as I can with the Talking shrink. Because that could be my last hope.

I'm not a child anymore. I don't know and don't want to live like this. I refuse to live like this. Last desperate act of control from a trapped soul.

Prisoner of my mind, weary of the battles to stay afloat, I dont seem to ever will win. The outcome's inevitable. Prisoner of this country whose policies only work for the straight citizens, allowed to a home to call ones's own by socially approved mergers which leads to 'nation building/family creation' I can't get out, I can't live, I can't see the point in all this.

But at the lowest of the day, early in the morning, a text came from a friend who was away. He said 'hey' and sometimes I think it's Someone's way of checking in on me to make sure I'm okay.

I used to be full of fire and zest, unafraid of people and foreign land. I was brave and ventured far, embracing the freedom and distance that only a single traveller can achieve. But now it's like I'm a different person. I don't recognize who I am and who I've become. Adventure doesn't have the same satisfaction or the same allure anymore. Is it really true, what wise people say? That sights and/or luxury means nothing if not enjoyed with the company one's heart yearn for?

Tis a different path I fear to tread on, lest it swells my heart only to inevitably follow a fate of glass meeting the floor. But that fear has lots of company and they are of a different nature.

Days like this is really the accumulation of the exhaustion of the past few days. I'm tired. Tired of fighting, to stay on and to not let go. Yet I seem fine to everyone, even to the Doc and the psychologist. Such a fucking great pretender. Days like these I feel like I'll never be able to win my genetic predisposition because all the medication and therapy in the world doesn't seem to help. It's not about finding an easy way out, I'm just really tired. I really want to stop and just rest.

I think what hurts is that I thought that my friends understood and knew who I am, to a certain extend. And then when I find out that they actually don't, and think I'm someone I'm not, it saddens me. I know who I am. But who I am is not who they think. It shouldn't hurt or matter, but makes for a very lonely existence. You agree and you give in. You comprise and get branded as self centered. It hurts, it really really hurts. Being judged and called immature by people you thought you have earned their respect really cuts. Do people not realize the impact of their words?

Living with a mental disorder was something that I never thought I'll have to do. You read about it, watched it unfold on the tv and hear about a friend's of a friend's distant relative going through it but it happening to yourself? Never will happen.

So pretty much a year-ish have passed and there's more stability compared to last year's NYE where I was on maximum dosages, all foggy and unable to remember much of what happened. A year to accept, recover and move on, a year I had no choice but to spend. Now to pick up the pieces of my life and start marching onwards towards the final goal. Yet at the back of my mind a nagging voice reminds me now and then that I'll never escape the blinking red self destruct button. I doubt anyone really understands at all how it's like to live a life so blessed with a mind so damned.

I wasn't very surprised that it all happened, just at the manner it did. My life goals changed not because I didn't achieve them, but because in the process of achieving them I realized that I could do whatever I set my mind to but is the cost worth it? And will I be sane and more importantly, happy?

The end of the year started promisingly but the start fell apart quickly. It didn't take much for the mind to turn to dark places. I feel that I can't tell my friends because even with a legitimate medical reason, no one will understand why my brain makes me feel the way I do. Even just talking about the pills turns them off. All judges, no one to just sit and try to understand. As someone once said, a broken leg elicit more sympathy than a broken mind.

Feeling so drugged up. When I'm not on them, society would view my behavior as not right. When I'm on them, I can't tell what the melancholy is due to. Or I'll be so out of it, dull, a shell of who I am. Stripped of personality, the lights are on but I'm not home. I can't write, I cant rationalize, I can't analyze. My future is a fuzzy idea, I fall back to old and dangerous comforts.

I'm waiting for the pills to kick in, to bring me to sleep and hopefully a peaceful one without nightmares.

Floating aimlessly trying to get back up standing and now an idea is forming. Cira' 06 where I take an idea, create a plan with steps to reach a goal. I have to keep believing that everything happens for a reason, that some good will come out of it all. It just so seems that I'm destined to keep fighting and searching. Maybe the break was good for me, because I was getting so tired.

I still think of her sometimes. I think she would have loved Linkin Park's new stuff.

Waiting for the meds to kick in. I like doing M and the euphoria is great. My running thoughts means more to me and I treasure them. Unlike Mania, my thoughts become more philosophical. Mania just makes me need to do stuff, need to search for answers and need to get things started. But after research I realised pouring fuel over my pre-existing condition makes the nice fireplace burn the whole house down. So anti psychotics comes into the picture. I guess mankind is not meant to access too much and too quickly the lessons of the meaning life and everything else. Because the price to pay to be so far outside reality is the inability to go back. Pandora's jar-shaped box was never meant to be opened?

Magic mania. Imagine being on high alert all the time and the mind is racing, creating backstories and conjuring reasonings/explainations for everything. The kids from school going home at 8pm. The noisy group of gossipmongers. The too cool for school crowd hanging out till late in town. Notice everything and pretty soon it's information overload. Breathing gets rapid, need to close the eyes and plug in a foreign language song to de-stimulate and decompress all the speeding thoughts and rising emotions. But oh the creativity that comes with the magic! The beautiful high, the fast response of the mind during conversations and the hidden knowledge and delight of seeing the matrix behind the dull surroundings. Who would want to take the stupid pills (not that the anti-psychotic pills are stupid, but that they make one stupid) when the mania takes over?

Woken up screaming before and woken up shouting for help. But never have I ever woken up crying and just couldn't stop. So many vividly disturbing dreams recently. No clue why.

My parents are driving me to madness. They are driving me BACK to madness. I don't think he knows what harm he is doing to me.

It's like I can't talk to him about ANYTHING in my life or about my pain because somehow he just would use that information to rebuke me about some unrelated matter in the future. It's driving me FUCKING MAD and MAD(ANGRY)

Numb. Tired, really tired. They make me so angry. They really dont get it. I'm trying to get my life together, I don't need you to FUCKING keep reminding me how fucking shitty my fucking life is. They are driving me back to crazy and I don't know how much more I can take.

I cant even write now. My head's throbbing and my hands hurt from punching the wall. Too busy wiping fucking snot away and drying them stupid tears.

I think I'm starting to recongize my triggers. Yesterday was a manic....day. But the Olanzapine caused me nightmares, is totally sedative and makes me foggy the next day. Sigh.

There's so much anger and frustration. They don't understand why I keep watching tv. They walk in, see what I'm doing and walk away sighing loudly with purposely injected heavy disappointment and every time they do that I need to watch more tv. I need to bury my head in those shows where that world distracts me from the violent emotions rising in me. They don't get that tv is my drug. It rescues me from taking actual drugs, sometimes. They don't understand my own pain and resentment at myself for being stuck here in their fucking house and country after all my dreams of bigger things got dashed. They don't see things from my side and only know how to react from their own emotions without thinking about how it will affect me and my already once broken psyche.

The thing is that they don't understand that they are doing is causing the vicious cycle to continue and their simple minds will never grasp this concept so what else can I do but to clench my fist and breathe.

Today my doc and I were having a conversation and I told her more about my stint in the mental ward at UCLA. About this guy who introduced himself to me all normal and almost happy-ish but then telling me he's there because he tried to kill himself. My doc then said that usually the suicidal ones are somewhat happy and free of their previous depression because they finally have a plan. Depressed people tend to curl up and not do anything because, well, they are too depressed to plan.

Funny how this isn't news to my ears. How and where do you think I find the strength to function whenever it swings to bad?

Today a beautiful girl on the bus caught my eye. She had a really nice black top with puffed up sleeves and a short grey skirt finishing off with a decent brown sling bag. One can tell that she spent just as much time on her hair too. Then I noticed her accessories around her wrists which led me to notice the disturbing multiple barely healed razor cuts on her inner forearms. When I got off the bus the sharp sadness still lingered.

Why do the prettiest girls have the ugliness scars?

Sometimes it feels like you're constantly falling and nothing you do can break the fall, not even the pills or the drugs can save you.

It's not the pain that hurts the most, it is the misery. The long drawn out dullness. The emptiness and the darkness that paradoxically fills the mind and it's all there is to focus on.

So I doubled my dosage tonight and hold onto hope created by the words of a doctor I see only once every two months.

I can't seem to write like how I used to anymore and I wonder if it's bc of the pills I'm taking. Gotta talk to the Doc about it. But I'm having a really good day today despite the bland interview this afternoon. Almost too...jovial. So pop goes the pills bottle and now I just wait to be sane.

So it seems that years ago when I chose the name "Schizophrenical" it should have been a warning sign. Back after some time of being committed and it has been quite a muted ride of emotions. Which means alot in comparison to what I've been going through. Yesterday and today are low days but I'm doing ok, thanks to the medication? Oh dear mind, what is going on with you...

It seems that after the weekend of rather bad lows, I'm giggling again. Not sure if it's the tv I'm self-medicating with/overloading on or it's just me.

Don't know but I aint that blind to not recognize a swing when I see one.

Dear God,

It's me again. I know I've been talking to you alot lately, I hope you don't mind.
Just want to let you know it's getting hard, again.
And thinking about the hazardous environment I might be heading into is making things worse.
Because if it's hard enough already here, it will get worse there.
And right now I'm already struggling as it is.
I thank you for the little things you've done and sneaked in for me to find out about.
I know I really shouldn't bother you already when you've done quite abit.
So I just wanted to let you know I am yours.
And that I'm trying really hard not to fail you.
Please help, if you see it alright to do so.

Love,
Me.

I don't believe in an external being that is the manifestation of evil because I think that evil is an energy, a power that gains traction through action. But some days I guess it's easier to blame the Devil when that power, which is potential in all beings, starts to overwhelm inside.

The pride I get from making the right decision that further strengthens my transition into adulthood sometimes get overshadowed by the sadness I feel from the emptiness and resignation of an old soul.

June 9th

It was kinda of a bad afternoon. But the itunes was on and "Iris" came on when it was getting really bad. Suddenly His and her presence felt so certain. What are the odds. What else can be rationalized out of such random moments colliding head on?

Today started out pretty decently. Church, hung out with friends at The Grove, watched "An Education" and when I got home, everything was suddenly not ok. Everytime when I'm better I keeping thinking I'm finally ok and I don't need help. Then days like this comes along. I know that something is wrong and I need to get help and I'm so close, just need to hold on.

I don't belong. The things I enjoy gets mocked. I should have gotten used to it but it never fails to make me aware of how different I am. Then with people who enjoy them, I realized I didn't care as much as I thought I would.

Sometimes I feel I'm too strange to have another soul out there to match mine.

It feels horrible now and everyday seems to get darker than the day before, But if you hold on, just one day at a time, one day you will realize that the worst happened yesterday.

This world is huge. It may not seem like it because of books, tv, movies and the internet. But there's always a way to places, stay on by focusing on finding a way because the beauty of this Earth is that somewhere in this huge planet with its different countries, immigration laws/visas, people, culture, society and living philosophy there is a place where you will find that you belong, a place that you will want to be in - a sanctuary , a home.

Live to search for that paradise on Earth. Don't go to a realm where no one really knows or can really know anything about. Take your chances here for here, being alive, is a certainty.

I have demons in my head. They sneak up on me. It get so dark I cant see anything else. It's getting harder and harder to tell how real the threat is anymore.

People keep leaving. No one really stays. But they didn't really leave because they won't supposed to stay in the first place.

A year ago today I got to hang out with an irish girl that had my eye. Today I got to hang out with the boys and naked girls that didnt. And right now, I'm still thinking about that Irish girl. Sigh.

Suddenly I just keep thinking about her. I cannot stop thinking about her. This is preposterous. I was doing fine and today out of the blue I suddenly cannot stop thinking about her. Yes, I've thought about her in the past but today mirror one of those really intense days circa spring 09. What the hell. That Irish girl has gotten me mad.

L had a miscarriage. All sorts of things running through my mind now.

A strange thing happened today. My mum was talking about me and my sis's future and she used the word 'partner' when talking about our respective marriages. She's old fashioned. When it comes to simple black and white concepts, she would never use a term so...vague. Hm?

The storm passed. It's much calmer now. I feel like my journey of trying to find or figure out who I am will never really have an end.

Thinking alot recently about Love and Sex. I think we as humans really screwed them up badly. Sex is a procreation tool, yet humans with their ability to feel Love have somehow tangled them both up. Our animalistic instinct is in direct conflict with our fringe emotions. For some, fringe emotions are the aspects of what Love makes one do, such as jealousy or extreme affection.

When one confuses either aspects to be the other, that's when things go wrong. It's nice to kiss, touch and cuddle. But when you do it out of the sake of the nice fuzzy feelings those actions provide instead of doing it because you actually have feelings of Love towards that person, that's when things go horribly wrong in your head. Or mine at least.

I think my brain associates sex as a way to express love, the right way, but there is a catch. I don't swing straight. I know it's fruitless to fight it so that meant I'm doomed to have meaningless encounters because my brain thinks that I'll never be able to love. So I went along the "might as well have as much fun as I possibly can" path. But it suddenly went wrong because in the pursuit of it I realized that the possibility of me actually being able to fall in love suddenly became very real.

And that was a insanely scary feeling.

It's all kinda fucked now but I hope I learnt a lesson from it. However part of me wished the time for lessons is over and that I can start getting some things right already.

There's a fatal flaw in my genetic programming.

I know it's just the hormones but today is a very very bad day.

There are good days and there are bad days. Then there are good days that turn into bad days all of a sudden with no real reason or rhyme. And I suddenly feel like today is going to be one of those days.

I was fine. then after church i wasn't. It's 3.30am but yesterday is still today and is this rush of feelings real?

The reasoning is freewill. Sometimes I have to learn to understand the reasoning all over again and the last time it happened was just now.

I sat here as they looked at people, judge and laugh. For fun, harmless fun? So that makes it ok? It kills me inside, what people do to other people. I don't know how to reconcile all these radically different perceptions. I can't judge them. I don't want to. And I'm afraid I do. It kills me inside that I care about so much about so many things. I really don't want to. But would it be easier? It's too much and I cannot show it. Must not. I think I'm lost again.

Staying alive and sane is not easy.

Too many thoughts. Feel like I'm going crazy. Funny how I've been feeling like this for a long time. Going crazy but never really there yet. How many demons can a person have. And how many times can they come back?

P talked to me today about yesterday at WH. I bought a girl a drink for the first time. I think. I see how I am when I listen and how I am when I participate. Completely two different persons.

I think about what happened with The Girl. I think about the girls at WH. Have I learnt what I've set out to discover?

Watching "We own the night" I mentioned that he really loves her. She asks why. I said that it's bc he tells her everything.

Pain is something that can be mined. Like Oil, or natural gas. It can be really bad for you, but it can also be useful when you understand it.

At least for nightmares you don't remain haunted because you don't remember the details.

When you fall in love, you fall into the trappings of being a fucking teenager.

Obviously I have issues with that concept and emotion.

2009 was...A year of crazy ups and downs. I noticed that I did not have a post for 2008. Maybe it's because in 2008 I was just settling in, and things were starting to resemble stable for a while. Yes, there was the thorn of that slight detour with a couple of friends, but it was resolved well, in comparison. I also had school, a good distraction. Nothing too complicated was on the looming horizon and I just started to come out socially. Alot of partying during the Fall and I started to see Los Angeles for what it is, could be and contemplate it's possibilities for me.

But 2009? Spring I started my last Sem in school, I foresee graduation and suddenly the immediate future was unstable again. I didn't know if I was staying or returning - which was a violent thought. I somewhat came out in school and crushed openly, again after those painful years and that turbulent experience. And with the opening of old wounds, it brought alot of facing up and dealing. The ups and downs were terrifying. It was an accumulation of nearly 5 years of ardently hidden issues that I assumed was resolved and moved on too quickly from. Saw the school shrink. Then graduation came. Later, summer was spent figuring out if I were going to stay for the whole 1 year and what my options of the future were. 2009 was, for now, the year that I finally faced my demons outright. Did I win? Only time can tell now.

But it's January again. My mind is not kind during this time. So if you could, please, wait, while I will this ache to fade.

Something hurts.
Strange dreams that tire and puzzle me when I wake,
days filled with a dull ache.
Moments of pure peace and bliss
but every other second is all about just getting to the next, alive.

A mistake
An error
I'm a programming that went haywire.

Rationalizing my way out of an inherent belief
I'm made as such therefore normal?
An anomaly, not destined for the bigger picture.
For every person that assure me that it's ok,
there are many more who shake their heads.
I try listening to my heart and use my brain
but conflicted I remain.

So tonight I danced with a really hot bi girl. Young. It was ok. Not unexpected, nothing too serious happened. Yeah, I'm learning to give people the benefit of doubts now and with a new resolution of not to be actively aggressive. I may want it but part of me is glad when we don't go any further. So this is a good compromise.
However when I got home part of me decided that I really need pain. I looked E up. And my suspicions to an extend were confirmed. In a way I'm kinda glad. But it's the second fucking time this happened. I really need to stop this patten. Cupid, I'm doing your fucking job at the expense of my mental health. Or lack of one.

Trying very hard to get back to normal. You really did a number on me.

A cold December Sunday the 13th

Venice beach looked wonderful today.

The rain stopped and the clouds were grey.
But the sun was out and painted the skies,
for there were shades of colors
oranges, blues and whites.
The palm trees swayed, up so high
and the volleyball nets moved ever so slight.
I saw couples walking hand in hand
and dogs with owners playing in the sand.
Friends in threes, smiling even in the wind
the waves rolling out and then back in
I took it all in, wondering -

I've been here before,
even seen such images repeated on many other shores
Across the ocean in Australia,
a little more though, on the nude beach of València
Never fail to be awed
Yet the feeling always stays so short.

Took a breath and closed my eyes
Opened and looked again with a clear mind
Marveled at the sight and before the feeling went
I whispered goodbye, made a turn and left.

Headed to Abbot Kinney
where I read a book and drank some coffee
pondered a lot and a thought occurred to me

Would the feeling stay longer if she does exist?

Someone who would turn to me, sand at our feet
asking if we could stay for a bit
because she thinks
that Venice beach looked wonderful, today especially
And I would nod and agree
because I know that this time the feeling will stay indefinitely.

The past few days had been good. It was thanksgiving and there was plenty of company, food and escape. But back to reality for now and the pressure is building up fast and painful. I turn away from comfort that makes me conflicted by concentrating on the absence of a plan and the ticking of despair.

One life crisis at a time please. I yearn to feel the connection but I force detachment upon my sorry soul. When will this cycle be broken.

Time for ashes. Days like these scare me because I'm so out of it, I'm not 'myself' and I don't know how to tell people/friends. Can't get close to anyone, can't trust, can't let anyone in. I can learn tricks but somehow, deep inside I know/fear the truth that it will never be and days like this scare me. Days like this shows me that I'll be alone because being alone only hurts me and I don't know why I can't accept it but yet i want to. Days like this can get really dark and all i can do is to hold on tight.