What's the Deal, y'all?

Warning: If you're looking for happy, then I'd advise refraining from reading this entry.

I was once scoffed at for keeping a blog.

Blogs are not, as I was told, the Islamic way of coping with things. There are other more acceptable ways of doing it, and while those were valid points, I was still stubborn with my stand but, being the pacifist that I am, I held my tongue instead of going into full scale debater mode.

Not out of fear of defeat, mind you, but more of tiredness. There are some things that, no matter how true they are to you, or how strong your conviction is, are not worth fighting and ruining relationships for. Thus, the peaceful middle way of agreeing to disagree.

I see blogging as a highly beneficial activity - otherwise I'd have terminated this blog and you, dear reader, would not have regularly updated sites to feed you with depressive thoughts as to how deplorable things are. It is a form of sublimation - which is a mature defense mechanism, whereby one responds to a negative feeling by channeling the negative energies to more productive ends, such as dabbling in writing or other aesthetics. Which would explain why most poets and writers of ye old days were conjuring up depressing poems and stuff that highlighted the forlornness of this transient life, the frailty of the human psyche.

There is some beauty in the broken, but to the one holding the burden...could the same be said?

Besides, blogging saves me the trouble of looking for people to confide in. Because, hey, everyone has his or her own problems, so it's not like they can actually take an extra load of problems, especially those that don't pertain to their daily lives or interests. See it as myself doing others a favour, will you!?

Occasionally I've toyed with the idea of dabbling into literature as a career, but seeing how difficult it is to cater to the public's whim - especially when it's not in tandem with one's own internal whims - I had to decide against it. (Naturally, my parents would never entertain such ambition!) Writing gives me the opportunity to dive deeper and learn more about myself - most of my entries were written freely, with not much planning or editing prior to the publishing. It's surprising how things actually unfold - oftentimes although I begin my entries with despair, the light of hope somehow slips through. The reverse also holds true though...

Compare this to while one is studying the cold hard facts. For example, the lists of clinical features of bronchial asthma. While you may relate the presentation with the pathology behind it, how far do you feel like you're learning more about yourself? Or, even worse - the mechanism of action of a, say, diuretic that acts to promote micturition...does that make you feel closer to your own kidney? Maybe not to yourself per se, but it sure gives some appreciation as to what the drug is doing to your patient, and you then share the joy when said patient's problems are ameliorated. But that's what a healthy human being should be doing, yes? To strive for the betterment of other people? Does this mean sacrificing one's own identity and positive perspective towards life as a whole?

Perhaps my problem is of different nature - the more I dive into the unknown territories within me, the more I seem to lose touch with the outside world, and hence a reduced threshold to accept the absurdities that the world throws at me.

It's derealisation, whereby I feel that I'm separated from the world around me. Like I'm outside looking in, forever not understanding the workings of the human mind other than my own.

So maybe...I am in the wrong course after all. Because my understanding of human beings has started to become so...ugly, that it's significantly different than that of mine ten years ago.

Or maybe the world is just going to the dogs. I mean, it's one of the signs of the end of the world after all...

Perhaps my personality type is at fault. While I started with idealism, it is easily crumbled, shaping into unspoken pessimism. Faith is so precariously fragile, that I become scared. My pacifist nature, people misuse and start to take advantage, almost like bullying me to do things that I'd rather not. It's everyone's responsibility, dangit, so why can't some people just behave accordingly instead of letting your fears take over you and get everyone else in trouble whereas we were initially ready to support you in your undertakings!? Are we not already adults!? How long do you expect to run?

And I know I've mentioned this before, but let me say it again: The maxim about fighting fire with water as the best option? I say this: bollocks.

Apparently it's impossible to knock some sense into some people using common courtesy and positive reinforcement. Childish much? Darn right.

And I'm so utterly, _utterly_ sick and tired of all this inane things that people - myself included - do without fail.

...

Judging by the state of things, I can't say that my future looks well. If things go on like this and I still can't handle things properly, I see only three possibilities:
i) I end up having mood disorders - be it major depressive disorder or bipolar disorder (God Forbid!)
ii) I end up writing poetry that have perpetually sad, depressive tones
iii) both of the above.

...Dear God, no.

Current Music: Kimi no Negai wo - Miyavi