Tag: depression

cHoicEs

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i am aware that my life is extremely privileged, that up until this point, i always have had this able body, a roof above my head, food on my table, love from people around me, the literacy, the education and the experience that make me not so clueless about the world. my life has brought me so many cHoICes to choose from. “what do i have for dinner today?”; “what show do i want to watch?”; “which shirt do i wear this morning?”. at the end, isn’t it all about the cHoiCes that tell us apart?

the irony is (not surprisingly), the privilege to have these many cHoiCes has resulted in me hating having cHoiCes. what a privilege to say “i hate cHoIcEs”. because those cH0iCeS I made had me leave my home country, had me do all these adventures, had me decide to start my life all over abroad. and while i was doing it, it made me realize how far i was from home, from what actually matters. now i am in the middle of the two lives: the life founded since i was born in Vietnam with my loved ones, and the one that i just founded abroad with my chosen family on the other side of the globe.

i am speaking about this journey as if it was a burden to have such a journey. it wasn’t. the burden is the NOW, when i, once again, have to make a choice. wherever i choose to settle, i would lose a significant part of my life. and since my mom passed, each choice, each person weighs heavier in my heart. i’ve learnt that i can’t live peacefully without my people, not being able to be there for them aches my heart. i want to be there to take care of everyone that i love, which is probably unachievable and nothing more than a wishful thinking. but i saw my mom do it. should i try to do it?

imagine you go away from your country to start a new life, while having endless challenges throwing at your way but you don’t give up, you find a way and you are almost there. BOOM! one big painful life event. you pack your bags to go back to your country. now you leave everything you’ve built to again start all over in your country.

no one knows what life has ahead for us. we take what we are given. maybe there are no cHoiCEs. maybe this is all part of the illusion of choice conspired by the aliens. we know nothing about what is happening around us.

Nỗi buồn này cất vào đâu

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Dạo gần đây mình buồn lắm. Buồn man mác, buồn mơ hồ, buồn cụ thể, buồn rõ buồn…

Mình buồn nhưng mình chẳng dám nói với ai. Kể cả với bạn mình cũng úp mở. Bạn biết mình buồn. Mình cũng biết mình buồn. Nhưng chẳng đứa nào biết làm thế nào để hết buồn.

Ừ, buồn à? Buồn thì phải vui lên!

Buồn cũng có nhiều kiểu buồn lắm. Không phải cứ thay thế buồn bằng vui là giải quyết được vấn đề đâu. Có những kiểu buồn cứ tràn ra mà không kìm nổi, thế là để chảy tràn. Chảy hết, để khô, cạn mới hết buồn được. Rồi có kiểu buồn thành cục, nặng trĩu, làm mệt nhọc cả thân cả thể. Nhiều cục buồn thì lại càng không thể giải quyết bằng một cái vui. Hay có kiểu buồn như khói bụi Hà Nội. Bủa vây, vô hình và không bao giờ tan biến.

Nhiều lúc buồn quá, vật chủ không muốn nghĩ nữa, nên tự đánh lạc hướng mình bằng những thứ cảm xúc khác. Nhưng sau cùng thì buồn vẫn ở đó, cất đi chỗ nào thì nó sẽ vẫn ở đó, vẫn luôn luôn tồn tại. Có buồn thì mới có vui.

Nên là mình chấp nhận sự thật. Mình buồn. Bạn buồn. Ai cũng buồn. Buồn không phải là tận cùng của thế giới. Buồn là sự thật hiển nhiên, như 1 + 1 = 2 vậy. Đã là con người thì sẽ buồn. Càng không nên buồn vì mình buồn.

Nói đi nói lại thì mình vẫn buồn. Buồn nhiều…

TODAY I RANT…

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Give me a word to describe how I hate this world.

How I hate the entire human kind.

And, of course, myself.

Everything disgusts me.

Everyone annoys me.

I feel myself included in that “everyone” but also excluded from the term.

“Same same but different.” What does that even mean?

My existence along with these creatures.

It seems to perfectly blend in.

But once my brain works.

Everything becomes.

Complicated as it always is.

Confusing as it always is.

Colorful as it always is.

An abstract painting that I could never understand.

My ideas, my thoughts and my words are being tangled.

The flow is endless, yet unpredictable.

I need to stop the flow.

I need to stop looking stupid.

I need to stop writing non-sense.

I need to stop. Stop.

 

“Be the change you want to see”

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People always say: “Be the change you want to see”, which, to the way I interpret, is that if you want people treat you differently, you should first start to treat them differently. Because, to some extends, the way people treat you reflects your attitude to them.

I listened. I changed. I tried to be the change.

…

So what exactly do I want to see?

I want people to notice to me.

I want people to listen to me.

I want people to comfort me.

I want people to appreciate me.

I want people to stop taking me for granted and start to include me in their lives.

…

But am I asking for too much? What did I try to do to deserve all of that? Was my attempt enough?

No.

The more I tried to be available for everyone, the more I was taken for granted.

The more I tried to help, the more useless I deemed to be.

The more I tried to show people I how appreciated them, the more dramatic and cheesy I looked.

Then how much is enough?

I have no clue.

No fucking clue.

…

As the lights are off and darkness fills the atmosphere, I feel so empty, lonely and helpless. I feel being left out. I want to talk. To anybody. Just a short decent conversation would be good. Just that. But with who? No one stays up this late. And if they do, they are probably doing something much more entertaining than listening to me rant.

…

I am probably just acting dramatically.

I should get rid of my problems by my own.

I am seeking for attention.

I am being selfish.

Poverty, war, sexism, racism. Those are the things I should be concerned of.

I should stop starting the sentences with “I”, stop being self-centered and think for others.

People have their own lives in which I have no role.

Deal with it.