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.

I have always wondered why I'm inclined to watching comedic TV series with plots revolving around a group of friends. And now, I finally have the answer: I don't have one.

Maybe I long for the same kind of friendship with people, and I only get to 'experience' it when I watch these kinds of shows/movies. Pathetic. Sad.

But then again I have this issue of wanting to be alone with myself majority of the time and hanging out with people tends to drain me. And I only get this social energy surges about once a week (if I'm lucky), or probably just twice a month.

I *think* I missed out on being part of a certain group of friends because "di kasi ako laging napunta" to that certain place, and this other girl got to be a part of it because she would always go there after work. I used to be the one always going there. But for a certain amount of time that I did not, I didn't get to be a part of a group. Again.

Yes, again. It first happened in third year high school, I was close (or I thought so) with majority of the members of this so called barkada, but then I did not join their after school gala on the first day of school, so I did not make the cut. I pathetically ask this certain classmate if I'm part of it (my God, the audacity and naivety of the teenage me), and she said no, because only those who came with them on that gala are the members. Imagine my dismay.

But lo and behold, I pushed myself to still be friends with them. I shoved myself down their throats. And continued to do so for the rest of high school, all through college, and even after.

But now? I think I've had enough. It's time to stop. I know when I'm not wanted, and I will not ignore it anymore. I will step away.

It's been a long time coming. I'm ready.

I have no self-respect left.

I have begged again and again to fix everything, but still nothing.

He was so mad at me for snapping at him.

But..

That's what he does to me before. He even blackmailed me at one point, but I forgave him. He never got this kind of treatment from me. He would keep flooding me messages and calls until I replied--not nice messages, mind you.

And still: HE NEVER GOT THIS KIND OF TREATMENT FROM ME.

He changed. He doesn't care anymore. If we talk or not. If we fix things or not. If I'm still here or not.

He says he wants to be alone, I respect that. I just wish you could respect that as well whenever I feel like that, too. When I tell you that, you'll just get mad and complain why you're damay plus a very annoyed and angry "galing mo talaga manira ng araw, bwiset!"--oh and on my birthday, nonetheless.

Should I still continue praying and hoping you'll respect me and will be sensitive to my feelings someday? That you'll get scared you might lose me if you continue treating me this way? That you'll listen to what I have say and not disregard what I think and feel?

I have been for four years.

When you told me I can't handle you at your worst, I took it as a challenge.

I became more patient. More resilient. More understanding. For you.

Everything for you.

When will I get what I deserve?

I'm at my wit's end.

I have tried and tried and tried.

I gave and gave and gave.

All I wanted is for him to fight for me, to work hard to earn me. But he wouldn't.

Maybe I'm not worth it.

Yes, I'm not worth it.

That's definitely it.

I'm hands down the worst person alive. Probably the most useless, pathetic, worthless, and good-for-nothing as well.

I can feel it.

In my skin.

In my bones.

In my soul.

It's there.

It's different when you just feel these things by yourself, but it's a whole other story when someone else actually does it to you. Especially when it's someone you thought would protect you from feeling that way, someone who would instead encourage you to see the good things in yourself.

That was my mistake.

The things is, I already know these. Eversince I was a kid. I have known it: no actual friends, no one to back me up.

Alone.

Well, not physically, but emotionally at psychologically.

And then come high school. Why, oh, why would I push myself to people who clearly don't give a shit if I exist or not in their lives. Couldn't be bothered if I hang out with them or not.

Hey, they didn't even think of saving me a seat on the first day of senior classes even though we were together all summer reviewing shit for entrance exams. Man, that scarred me for life. It's been 13 years, yet here we are.

And now, the main event: finally got someone. You know, "romantic styles."

But I became trash. 

And I thought I already hit rock bottom. 

I thought I'd get used to it. 

Hey, he didn't mean it. He was only mad. He never meant to say those things. He already knows I'm insecure and that I look down on myself. 

BUT WHO GIVES A FUCK? 

HE DOESN'T. 

If he's mad, he's mad. He doesn't know you. He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care what you think. He doesn't care how you feel. 

HE JUST DOESN'T CARE.

So why am I still here?

I can't even count how many times he wished I was dead anymore. Let alone all the curse words he threw at me like I'm some traitor who cost him his life.

I don't know.

I know what you're thinking. This is totally and absolutely private. Why am I posting this?

I have no one to talk to.

I don't have anyone to tell these things to.

I can't tell my family. I already worked so hard for them to like him. Especially my mom and sister.

I can't tell my friends because I don't even know if I still have any. I have stopped talking to them and seeing them because--surprise, surprise--he doesn't like them. Won't even allow to me go out with them.

So that's my life. So joyful, isn't it? Not bad at all.

Wonder how things will turn out.

What the fuck am I gonna do?

Very sorry for venting out like this. I feel like I've reached my limit. I want to share this on all my social media accounts, but it will just cause a stir. Plus, I'm not really the type to post my feelings online.

Ironic. Yes. I know.

BUT.

No one reads this blog anyway. SOOOO, still safe.

Will let you know what happens next.

Bye. X