Posted in Self-evaluation

Through the night

Bad decisions, good feelings.
I don’t really care.
I want to let go, let be.
But it would all be so much better with a full-time job, hah.

I went clubbing on Friday with some friends.
One shot.
Two shots.
Six shots.
And I’m dancing the night away.
No self-consciousness.
No self-pity.
No after thoughts.
Friends there to help keep me away from being taken by some guy.
Looking out for each other.
But it would have been nice to let each other have maybe one dance with some guy. Maybe next time.

I could have downed another shot or two and still be up and dancing.
All dressed up. But not too much.
Just having fun.
10/10 would definitely do it again.
Dance the night away at clubs.
Gotta enjoy it while I’m still young right? And the guys in the clubs aren’t younger than me.
Personally not a fan of being hit on my younger guys.
Maybe this is my prime.

I got to dance away from my problems.
Ignore my problems, as if just for one night they didn’t exist. And they didn’t.
I was just happy.
But is this the high that I’m going to be chasing?
I feel kind of sad knowing that it won’t be happening again, soon.
I wish I could go every other week.
But the drinks a little too expensive.
$8 for a shot. My goodness.
Pre-drinks are def much needed.

Next time I would invite my other friends too.
Even if I’m 99% sure they’ll say no, maybe with the exception of one.
I would say we should go clubbing since she will be leaving for her Masters, but she doesn’t favour clubbing.

I’m just waiting for my brother to leave for vacation so that I can crash at his place for the duration.
Have late nights out.
Enjoy the late-night walks.
Dance all night long.
Order pizza at 3AM.
Stay up when he town sleeps.

Wander lusting.

I hope soon, before I get a job.
Won’t be possible to crash at his place for a week or two without much worry when I’m worried about working 9-5 M-F.
Have my friends over.
Stay out late drinking.
Tell secrets.
Share fears.
Be loved and loving without worries.

Posted in Self-evaluation


I’m sorry, I just have to let this out because I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
I’m sad. Not numb, not depressed. Sad.
I’m scared and worried.
I knew what I was getting myself into, but it was still unexpected.

I do hospice visits.
I’ve been visiting a pleasant older lady for a little less than a year now.
I was supposed to visit her today, and so I went.
I ring her buzzer. No answer.
I phone her, no answer.
I give it a few minutes.
I can’t get up to her suite without a FOB.
So I just stand there, pretending to have lost my FOB when someone walks in, I follow.
I go up to her room. I knock and try to open the door. It’s always left open because it’s hard for her get up each time someone comes to the door to open it.
It’s locked.
I knock again. No answer.
I call her with my ear pressed against the door in attempts to hear if maybe she’s on the phone or if the phone rings.
Phone rings, but no answer.

I’m scared. I noticed an EMS parked outside. I didn’t dare to think that it was for her.
I go downstairs, I ask the security if he has seen her leave the building.
He answer with an answer I feared for.
It was just her birthday on Monday. I called her, she said she was having tea with some friends, and said that she’ll see me on Wednesday. She was supposed to have a birthday party on Saturday. I was supposed to attend.

But that’s gone.

She was such a pleasant lady to visit. Full of life and stories.
Experiences and kindness.
Her niece was booked to visit her in August. She was so excited. We talked about the different things that she can do with her. We talked about the different places there is to visit within 2-hours drive.
She told me stories.
She supported me through my search for a job and to settle down.
She shared her stories of work.
I cared.
I didn’t think that this day would come.
I guess it lasted longer than it was supposed to, but not long enough.

The moment the security told me that she was taken by EMS just 30 minutes prior set tears in my eyes.
She said she was doing okay.
But I guess we’re never really okay.

Posted in Self-evaluation

A reminder

My head hurts, and you just know that it’s going to be a bad day. Even though you planned for it to be productive and well.
Everything can go right, but your headache remains to remind you that things aren’t well.
That you aren’t well.
That things aren’t going well, and that they aren’t going to.
It a reminder of your bad dreams and bad nights.

It’s not just a headache, not to you.
It’s a reminder that you’re not in control.
It makes you think back to the days and nights that could be causing this throbbing headache.
You think back to the nights that you weren’t able to sleep well.
The nights where you did not get a deep sleep, and woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. This has never happened before.
You wake up needing to drink water, not being able to remember a single dream.
Your body awake, feeling all the sensation.
Your mind pleading to rest.
But you think of all the things that people have said to you.
You think of all the things that you think people are saying and thinking about you.
A question.
It all runs through your mind, in your dreams, it shows up.

You push your body to do better.
You push your body so that it aches. When it aches, you feel something.
Bad or good, it’s something. Something is better than nothing. Anything to numb the lack of sensation.
Pain is the best remedy.
When your body aches, you feel good. So you push harder.
Your arms weak, legs weak. Muscles torn.
Your body’s way of saying that it needs a rest, it needs more nutrients. But you interpret it as good. It’s breaking down the fat, using the stored fat. Get leaner. Be thinner.
It’s the only way to escape your depressing life, always anxious of not being the picture perfect image.
Dying to please, dying to be wanted.
All the while, they want someone who’s alive.

What happened to me? I used to be full of life. I used to be happy. But when was that?
A time that I can’t remember.
A time that only exist in theory.
You look at pictures and think, “was I happy there?”
You try to imagine what your mind was like 10, 15 years ago.
But the only things you can remember are the times where you lashed out.
The times that you were hurt.
The times that you were anxious, jealous, envious, so wanting to be someone else, so wanting something else. Never satisfied, always on edge.
Always thinking of the next escape.

You get addicted to a high, a high you can’t come down of.
When you’re anxious and depressed, you look forward to nothing. You have no standards, no expectations. It makes living life better, bearable, even though it’s a life of numbing.
Everywhere you go, you feel like tears streaming down your face.
Wherever you are, you want to cry.
You want to let your wall down, but you’re afraid. So you don’t.
You shouldn’t.
But the issue isn’t why I’m not letting myself be, an issue of why I feel this way.
Why do I have to be constantly sad, so broken.

You wonder why you’re so broken, but when you offer yourself a word of advice, it’s just goes through one ear and out the other.
No substance to stick to.