Desperation.

I am in one of those moments. Those moments that I hate. Those days when I completely lost sense of myself, lost sense of my purposes, and feel like giving up. I’m just really fucking tired of trying. Why should I? Life never works out the way I want it to be. The one thing I asked God this year was to be happy. I didn’t ask for much, I asked that whatever job I do, wherever I land, whoever I love — it would make me happy. One month in 2022 and I’m left black and blue. Beaten down and defeated, depressed and fucking done with life. A broken heart was nothing compared to being rejected from my dream company. My dream job, the one I hold onto, the one I have high hopes for, the one that invited me in and gave me a glimpse of how life could be — suddenly turned their backs on me and left me dangling without knowing what did I do wrong. Two, three months of holding out hope, trying to make it work, all gone in a single unread and unanswered message. What could I have done to make it better, to make them change their minds? I have no idea. You could argue as to maybe this wasn’t the best fit for me, maybe God has a better plan, maybe I would be happier somewhere else — fuck that, I wanted this. This particular position in this particular company that I had been dreaming of since I was only 18. Fuck, this still hurts. I usually can keep my composure when it comes to relationships or other people because I know that humans are not variables that I can control. But this, part of my grand plan for my career, has always been planned carefully and calculative, and now that it blew up in my face, I am livid. Much less because I don’t know why they turned me down.

Facing rejection has always been something I’m scared of. For me who has always been conditioned to be the best, to try my absolute best even if it means dying, I cannot fail by any means. I can’t fail, I can’t be rejected, and anything I set my mind to must happen or I’ll die trying. It’s such a toxic way of thinking and living, and probably why to some bystanders they think I’m purely made of ambition. Yeah, because either I bleed until I succeed or kill myself from not being able to fulfill what I want. You could say I’m being dramatic because I’m young, life hasn’t happened yet for me, but what have I been through for the past 24 years was more than anyone could imagine. At least when they see how I turned out they wouldn’t even imagine that something like that could happen to me. That’s why I rarely care what other people think. I pay no attention to judgmental assholes who took a glance at my life and assume whatever it is they assume — I don’t give a damn. But my vice is that I care too much about what I think. I care about how I think of myself and I hate the thought of not being able to be who I set my mind to.

It’s not that I’m a narcissist, I swear there’s a reason. I grow up with no one but myself and I made a promise to my younger self that I would never be a disappointment. I would be the best person, the best role model I could give her because I know she doesn’t have anyone. I don’t know if anyone does this too, but I’ve always been motivated by my own self. Anything I do now is for my past, younger self. I couldn’t fail her. I couldn’t fail that 15-year-old girl who was on the brink of killing herself for the first time. I couldn’t fail the promise I made that everything will be better. We will be better. We will be okay and no one can hurt us anymore. I still remember the letters, the goodbyes, the hopeless feeling I had because I didn’t deserve better and I had just wanted to stop. Stop trying. Stop living. I had no one, and by some miracle, I still survived that day and I promised myself that I’ll do my best to give her the best life she deserve. I hated failing because I hate having to disappoint myself. Living with disappointment from everyone in my life made me feel like I can only count on myself. I only have myself. So when I failed, all I see is that I’m still a mess. A fucked up, broken, incomplete shell of a human. All I see are the tragic chapters that had to happen or the traumas that still haunt my life. All I see is the painful nights by myself, clutching blades, half living-half dying. All I see is that I failed, I disappointed my younger self.

I’ve always known I’m a complicated person. I have some fixing to do. Some growing up to do. I’ve always known I’m still incomplete, I’m unfinished. I’m still a work in progress. So that’s what I do. I work on myself, I work until I suffered and I’m left alone without anyone by my side. I thought that’s what I do best though, I keep working on myself and try my absolute best for everything in my life. But there are times when I’m faced with rejections, failure, and setbacks, and it happened times and times again that I lost my patience. Like this. This time I lost my will to try again, and right now all I want is to be mad at life. I’m mad because no matter what I do or how hard I try, sometimes all life gave me was a punch in the fucking face. Everything I work for, everything I hope, everything I want — it’s all taken away from me. I just got so tired of trying to regain everything back that now I just want to roll with the punch. I’m done trying hard. When all life does is take and take and take from me, I’m giving up all of it. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care that I don’t have any friends in my life right now, I don’t care that I’m stuck in a job that I care about but not appreciating me one bit, I don’t care that I keep applying to other companies and keep on being rejected, I don’t care that I am literally broke all the time because the pay rate was so fucking low, I don’t care that I might not achieve everything I dream in my life. I don’t even care that the love of my life doesn’t even want to talk to me, and wants nothing to do with me anymore even though I asked him for nothing except to just let me stay and love him. I don’t care anymore. I’m done trying to make anything work. Life keeps on disappointing me and not giving me a clear answer on anything so I might as well just stop.

Honestly, I have no idea why I write all of this, let alone why I published this. I’m feeling sick of life, sick of everything and I want to take a step back. This January was the absolute fucking worst. I swear to God I just asked for happiness, it’s not that hard. Someone I love once said that happiness is according to ourselves so just be the happiest version of yourself. For me happiness is to be appreciated, reciprocated, and loved. That’s fucking it. Do you think I want to wake up in the morning hating myself yet still going to work even though I am wildly underpaid and overworked and not appreciated at all? Do you think I want to face rejection from my dream company that has been stringing me along for three months? Do you think I want to receive rejection emails from every application I sent? Do you think I want to call my mom and want to tell her everything, only for her to be crying and made it all about her? Do you think I want to lay out all my feelings bare to someone, giving my all, not asking for anything in return, and yet still not being reciprocated? Do you think I want to spend my day and my life alone with nobody who cares about me? It’s not that I want to be alone and miserable and lonely, but I am so conditioned to be alone that it’s the only way I know. My life currently feels like an absolute joke that I just want to stop. Stop trying. Stop living. Stop asking.

Your move, God. Your move to prove that miracles and happiness do exist for a broken orphan like me. Your move to prove that every pain you sent to my life would be a lesson and that there’s a rainbow after every storm. Your move. All the things, all the people you took away from my life — what else are You gonna take from me next? Me?