Things I wanted to say if you were still listening.

• Why? What did I do?
• Is it my skin? My personality? My attitude?
• Is it because I don't like video calls?
• Is it because I still don't want kids at the moment, and I'm still not sure if I would ever want them?
• Am I immature?
• Am I irresponsible? That I'm not good at doing household chores?
• Why did you build me up that way only to abandon me afterwards?
• I was already saying my goodbyes before I slept, why did you have to reassure me that you still want us?
• Why didn't you just let me go that time? At least it would be mutual.
• Why did you give me hope?
• I really liked you, you know. I was beginning to picture my life with you.
• You made me believe that maybe, just maybe I finally met someone who respects me and cares about me.
• I was wrong again. And much worse this time.
• It only lasted a fucking week.

Fuck my life.

Guess what?

I got fucking ghosted. And he made sure I won't be able to contact him, he even ended the chat on Bumble!

There I was crying my fucking eyes out thinking yet again that there is something wrong with me, then he pulls this fucking shit on me? I poured my fucking heart out! I told you everything! I was vulnerable! I thought I finally met someone who will actually treat me right! But here we are. Back to square one. I have to build myself back up again.

Fucking fuck! Love is so fucking shitty!

YUNG WALA SILANG PAKE KAHIT NAMATAYAN KA NA. WALEY KA NA TALAGA TEH.

As I grow older, my self-loathing deepens and gets stronger. I can say with absolute certantainty that I hate myself now more than ever. I have grown more pathetic, petty, miserable, and bitter. To make things worse, I have become uglier--I didn't think it was possible--but yes, I have become uglier and fatter. My shape, one of the very few things I can boast about myself has become dismal. My jaw line? History. My thighs? Can't even wear my trusty F21 pants anymore--apparently my thighs ripped the lining.

Damn.

I need to fucking to pull myself together.

I mean, I have always hated myself--that's not news--but at least I got myself together. I should stop thinking about him and all the people who doesn't give a shit about me. How much of a fucking idiot am I to still worry about an asshole who have always found it easy to curse, insult, and degrade me?

This time think about you.

YOU.

It's fucking hard, but, please, try.

Just try.

Hello. It's been a while. Me? Well, I'm just doing as well as I'm able.

What's the news, you ask? Not much, it's just we broke up. We stopped talking, and neither party did anything to fix it. I tried to talk to him, but still got the same response. And then one night he supposedly sent me a text, but I didn't get it. When told him this, he said he doesn't care and proceeded to cursing me, as usual. So, yeah, that's it basically--same old, same old.

What's different this time, though, is he has now finally removed his relationship status on Facebook. He usually keeps it whenever we fight, but this time he actually removed it. Closure, perhaps?

As much as I hate to admit, it still affected me. I felt nauseous and anxious and sad and scared all at once. This is really it: I'm not part of his life anymore. One day, I will see him with another woman, and he will be sweet and kind to her. He will respect her and treat her nicely, like she deserves.

Because I didn't. I didn't deserve nice and respectable treatment.

Damn it, I hate fucking hate myself.

The one year anniversary for my Domino's feature is coming. That feature is greatly significant for two reasons: first, it has been my biggest achievement to date since I ventured into lettering and illustration; and second, it became a living proof that no matter what I did or achieved, no one gives a fuck.

I posted my plant-doodled Domino's pizza box on May 10, 2020. It managed to score a couple of likes, still less than 10, of course. I didn't really expect anything. I was so used to the fact that nobody in my network gives a fuck about my works and that nobody supports them. So when my cousin told me about Domino's wanting to feature my art on their page, I was more than ecstatic. Finally, I thought, someone gave a shit. Someone noticed. Maybe this time, people in my network will finally give a shit.

I waited patiently and excitedly for the post, until it came.

I actually woke up to it and was really happy. My handle was there--for all the world to see. I made that. So I enthusiastically shared it. Boasting inside, I fucking made it.

But then hours passed.

Nobody. Gave. A. Shit.

Still.

Even the original post did not even make it to a hundred reactions.

And my shared post? Didn't even make it to 30.

This girl who does basic letterings, those annoying, ubiquitous cursive fonts and style on Instagram, gets 80-100+ reacts. And this other girl, a wannabe "Heart Evangelista" with her "style" and concept of painting women and flowers, gets nothing lower that a hundred.

But me? Can't even make it to 30.

During that time I thought, this has definitely nothing to do with talent. It's me. I'm the problem. Nobody fucking likes me, thus, my works suffer. Maybe if I had been more friendly, more likable, then maybe more people will appreciate my art, my talent. Maybe I wouldn't feel so worthless.

But, the winds changed.

It has to do with talent.

I'm not wow enough.

As a person.

As an artist.

Mediocre.

Post for tonight:

I hate myself.

Good night. 

I was in the mood to letter tonight, so I opened my Instagram and browse through my works to get ideas. And I realized..

Damn, I suck.

I stopped sharing my posts to Facebook because the lack of reactions and support for my works was devastating and disheartening. I thought the problem was my lack of peers, my lack of network--or absence thereof--but no. It was actually my lack of talent.

As I look at my profile and browse through my works, I realized how boring and lifeless they are. There's no 'wow' in any of it. Not a single one. Even those I was proud of once--nothing. 

To be fair, I feel this way every now and then. But tonight, it felt different. It sunk a little deeper.

I am mediocre.

All through my online social life, I have never felt more insignificant than now. Every single thing I post gets unnoticed, especially those I posted myself (unshared ones). I can hear it loud and clear: Nobody gives a shit.

What the fuck even is this? Have I let myself become so absorbed in social media that I end up feeling unimportant without the validation of dozens of likes and/or reacts?

I don't want to become this person. I hate to admit it, but it gets to me. Social media is vicious. It twists your mind and makes you think things you normally wouldn't. It ruins your perception of things, it makes meaningless things important and sets aside those that really matter.

God, I wish I didn't care.

I wish I wasn't alone with my thoughts.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. I wish I didn't care. I truly, truly, from-the-bottom-of-my-heart truly wish I didn't care. It shouldn't even matter. Validation does not come from that, but, man, it blows--hurts, even. Just a couple more days.