I used to think I was destined for greatness but adulting taught me I’m not meant to be one. I’m clumsy and absentminded on my normal days while moody and shut off on my bad ones. I’ve never won a single claw crane game, nor have I ever proven myself worthy of indoor and outdoor games alike. I’m not pretty and is borderline huge, probably the reason why I’ve never had a boyfriend in my 22 years of existence. I don’t write beautifully, don’t touch people and spread profoundly inspiring writings. I’m not someone small girls look up to; I’m someone they probably cower at. I’m not a romantic and I don’t even try to be one. I have a difficulty relating to people my age and I get so worked up on the smallest mistake I make. I cry easily in the confines of my own person then pretend to be all high and mighty in front of others. I am cold to everyone except the people closest to me, and even them I treat blandly on some days. In my belief of wanting to be great, I’ve become a person few people wants to get to know. In the end, I’m actually just wanting like the rest.
Author: DMTowers
a freelance writer who has a degree that is absolutely not related to writing
The Social Media Guy
There’s this guy on Facebook that I am friends with but doesn’t know personally and for some strange reason, I keep getting fascinated by him. I always have the urge to go and comment on his posts not because I want him to take notice of me (which now that I think about is probably actually part of the reason), but because I genuinely want to talk to him. In a stroke of bravery, I once messaged him about his post having a wrong grammar (which is rare for him and he thus explained on his reply why such thing occured) and although I know I would sound rude to correct a stranger, I took it to myself to just apologize if he got offended. That brief interaction earned me so much respect for him. Moreover, he’s interesting, and intelligent, and he’s a photographer so you could say he sees things that other people probably don’t see.
The thing that probably captivates him to me is his never-ending love for this girl that he is acquainted with. I don’t know if he ever did anything for that love to progress but I do know that they’ve never been together, and that he only watches her from afar. I know these things because he recently posted about her, and you could feel the love that never blossomed on that single post reminiscing the day he met her and I really want for him to have a chance with the girl although that might not be possible since said girl is already in a 10-year-long relationship with her boyfriend.
This facebook guy, I’ve become like him, the way he acts with the Spanish-eyed girl. I only wish I don’t fall in love, that I only remain ever-fascinated by his posts.
Losing Touch
Hi! So I’m going to post this in the hopes that someone could help me figure out what’s happening to me.
I’ve always been fairly doubtful of myself. I don’t know when it began exactly. I suppose it manifested itself from my questioning myself during examinations, double thinking some question that I’m fairly sure I know the correct answer to. Those moments were pretty often but they can be considered normal otherwise I think I’d be too sure of myself, my knowledge when I’m always a hundred percent sure of my answers to exams.
Things progressed and it got to the point that when someone asks me a question I’m sure of, I still doubt myself whether it was really the answer. For example, explaining the process of blood flow through the heart which I have memorized but when someone asks me, I still have that “I think… I’m not sure” tuck in my sentences. It could come off as some way for me not to show off but in reality, at that moment, I’m really not sure of what I was talking about. Still, these aren’t ground for suspicion or concern that something is wrong with me. Until something happened awhile ago.
I’m supposed to go to work at 2100. I got on the pickup point fairly early so I roamed around for a bit. Around 2030 I rang the driver to ask where he is but he didn’t answer. I let it go because sometimes he would come pick me up 2045 or later. At 2045 I rang him again twice to let him know I’m waiting and that he’s late. He didn’t answer on both calls. At 2055 I’ve already rang him five times, all of which went ignored so I called the madam at the office to complain about the lack of pickup of my phone calls, that I’m already late to work and to ask what should I do now but that call also went unanswered. I became anxious of the time and I didn’t know what to do. Then I questioned myself, am I early? Maybe I don’t have duty today? Is it already 9pm? What if it’s actually 9am? I looked at my phone and the time glared at me. I still wasn’t convinced. Maybe I’m still sleeping? Am I really awake right now? I started hyperventilating. I was losing my grasp to reality, questioning myself about things that are so glaringly obvious that I started panicking and paced around the mall (pick-up point). My ears started ringing and my eyes turned a little dark at the corners, my limbs slowly turning jelly like with electricity- a sure sign of an impending fainting. I paced faster, and tried to think of other things while people who passed me looked at me but I couldn’t even care. I was desperate to get ahold of the truth and so I texted numbers and dialed some until one workmate answered, and she was the first gasp of reality until I began to relax and tell myself that I’m not going crazy. That I’m really awake and I’m supposed to be at work already and that it is actually 10 minutes past 9.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why I am always quick to doubt myself even when proofs are presented. Am I going crazy? Was the situation that happened with me a prodromal sign of an oncoming withdrawal to reality? Please help.
Sigh
It’s 2AM in the morning and despite my having to go to work early later, I can’t seem to move past the sadness that has crept up over me.
I have made a lot of stupid decisions in life but most of them started when I stepped off into adulthood. I have a lot of what ifs now but they’re only that, just what ifs, because I can’t go back and take a different path and I’m not sure I’d be happier if I do take what seemed to be such a disappointing path then.
I wish I could go back to a year earlier and take that optic nurse job offer I refused simply because taking it meant I’d be tied down for 2 years, or that 6 months volunteer job in a private hospital with not even a minimum compensation, or even continue that volunteer job I enjoyed but always complained about. That’s the problem with me though, I always complain, even when I have it easy I always have something to complain about. It’s exhausting, I want to change but I don’t know how.
I’m rambling, I know. I’m sad. I want to go home. I’m sorry I can’t even make up a proper post about this.I don’t even know what I’m thinking.
Harassed Again
It’s fucked up how almost 2 months have gone and I am posting about sexual harassment AGAIN.
We were walking innocently towards our apartment when this guy followed us and he came up behind me, pushed behind my back and touched my butt while he groaned. I was caught off guard as a shiver of fear ran through me but my body reacted first; I moved away from him while shouting an involuntary ‘fuck’ then I punched his chest. He moved away and I screamed “Fuck you! Fuck you” and I wish I could have done more than scream that helpless litany towards my assailant. I wanted to go and kick him, punch him in the face but the moment he looked back, fear went through me again and I ran inside, chased by my friend who could do nothing but stood frozen on the sidewalk beside me. If I had a gun, I would have shot that fucker and never regretted it. He didn’t regret what he did anyway.
And if in some fucked up case you think I was worth being violated, I wasn’t. Nothing in me warranted violation in these fucker’s eyes but he still did. I was dressed in a black dress that went until my ankles, had cardigan over it, and I am fat so I felt like no one would want to touch me but I was wrong. An assailant would attack whenever he wants to whomever he wants to.
So for all of you sick psychopaths who thinks it’s allowed to touch someone against their will, I curse you all to hell and wish your reproductive organs rot and be as useless as your brains.
I have never been violated in my own country, no matter how poor my country is, at least we have manners. This fucking Arab country is so filled with fucked up perverted shitheads that I wish I could go home immediately and never go back. I wish I never came here.
Alone in a Foreign Country
I feel so alone. I wish I could talk to someone but I can’t cause this is a matter that shouldn’t be disclosed to anyone who knows me or my friends personally. Please just reach out and talk to me.
Sexual Harassment
Do you know how it feels like to be touched against your will while seeing the obvious intent clear on your assailant’s eye?
It starts with you feeling the awful mixture of dread, horror and disgust suddenly surging through your system, making you incapable of forming an argument until it is over. When it’s over,the awful remembrance of the incident replaying through your head at every moment you are caught off guard. The inescapable memory of his hands violating you, filling you with those emotions and starting the cycle all over again.
Remember that the next time you harass someone sexually. Remember that you’re taking a little light from your victim, amd may that light that vanished dim your world as well. May you be consumed with guilt; oh how I wish you drown in your guilt and suffocate. Nobody deserves to be violated, be it a male or female.
I wish I could erase the memory but I can only curse now. I can only mutter fuck you’s as I care for the man who told me nasty things and touched my butt without my consent. I am a nurse, I don’t get paid for you to violate me.
Fuck you.
Threads Connected
It’s 5AM and I’m aboard a bus going to the city. Normally at this hour I wouldn’t be awake but I have to get to Dubai before 8:30 AM. I’m starting my training to become a homecare nurse, and as much as I am grateful to have found a job within a month, I’m still a bit melancholic because this job will be dictating so much of my future. With my signing the offer letter I am already signing on to giving 2 years of my life to this job. When the contract ends, this job will dictate whether I would ultimately go back to my home country and settle down, move on to a probably better foreign country, or stay here for another 2 years of my life.
Looking back a month ago, I wouldn’t even be thinking these things. I was hell-bent on earning enough money to go back to my family and pay off my debts but as the gravity of this path settled down on me, I realized I couldn’t. I have to, no matter what, finish this path I’ve insisted on taking. I wanted to fly away, spread my wings, test my freedom, I once wrote on my diary and now I’m doing it. I’m even commuting more than 3 hours one-way on this stretch of foreign land alone so tell me if I’m not ultimately spreading my wings. I must have wrote that for a reason and even though I have now forgotten why I was so bent on moving away, I think it must have been for a good reason so I intend to continue on this path my 17 year old self has dictated for me.
And I’m now writing this because I know so many people is the same as me; that feeling of wanting to move away and find yourself… I’m telling you it’s going to be scary. You’ll ultimately feel you want to go back that plane the moment you realize you’re miles away from home. You’ll probably cry a lot the way I did too. You’d be so sick of your mopey self and your friends who’d be there will probably be too but you couldn’t do anything because you’d feel so lost. . . But this is a great adventure! I know that now, and I intend to see the end of this so I hope you do too. Take that first step alone if you can so you’d know your limit, and continue taking the step after that. If I had done it, I know you could too. After all, we’re both wild creatures at heart; we’re siblings, you and I.
The Future Set in Waves
If I meet my self in 20 years time, will I be able to recognize myself?
If I look back to the past, will I have sweet nostalgia or bitter memory?
Will there be a permanent frown plastered on my face, or will my face be lined with countless laugh lines?
Will I teach my kids to do whatever it is they want as long as they’re happy or will I teach them to suck it and endure as long as they have a stable future?
Will I even have kids to teach? Or a husband to hold?
Will I be living back home again, or will I have made another place my home?
Will I still be doing this profession I enjoy but is constantly struggling with, or will I have made a name for myself in another industry?
Will I still be close with my family, or is my going away now the start of a distance much harder to cross than a thousand miles of endless ocean?
Will I be able to remember all the journey I would have to make to get to where I will be or will those memories be erased by suppression, repression, or a grave illness?
Will I still be alive then?
Looking back at all these questions that I would probably have an answer by then, will I be satisfied by the answers, or will I wish I’d never known?
Will I know better, or will I still be fumbling like I am now?
No matter which path I take, the future is set in waves.
What I might be considering a minor mistake now could have a large impact on my future.
Like how I made an impact by insisting I go away.
No one made me to, no one told me so; this move I made all on my own. Because I put such a burden on my shoulders, because I cared too much about things that were considered parental problems, but still all of this I did on my own.
So when I am ready to go home, and yes it is a when because I have accepted by now that I have no other choice but to endure and hope to God that I enjoy this journey, it will also be on my own free will.
I just hope to God it will be on the positive spectrum starting now.
The Future Set in Waves
If I meet my self in 20 years time, will I be able to recognize myself?
If I look back to the past, will I have sweet nostalgia or bitter memory?
Will there be a permanent frown plastered on my face, or will my face be lined with countless laugh lines?
Will I teach my kids to do whatever it is they want as long as they’re happy or will I teach them to suck it and endure as long as they have a stable future?
Will I even have kids to teach? Or a husband to hold?
Will I be living back home again, or will I have made another place my home?
Will I still be doing this profession I enjoy but is constantly struggling with, or will I have made a name for myself in another industry?
Will I still be close with my family, or is my going away now the start of a distance much harder to cross than a thousand miles of endless ocean?
Will I be able to remember all the journey I would have to make to get to where I will be or will those memories be erased by suppression, repression, or a grave illness?
Will I still be alive then?
Looking back at all these questions that I would probably have an answer by then, will I be satisfied by the answers, or will I wish I’d never known?
Will I know better, or will I still be fumbling like I am now?
No matter which path I take, the future is set in waves.
What I might be considering a minor mistake now could have a large impact on my future.
Like how I made an impact by insisting I go away.
No one made me to, no one told me so; this move I made all on my own. Because I put such a burden on my shoulders, because I cared too much about things that were considered parental problems, but still all of this I did on my own.
So when I am ready to go home, and yes it is a when because I have accepted by now that I have no other choice but to endure and hope to God that I enjoy this journey, it will also be on my own free will.
I just hope to God it will be on the positive spectrum starting now.
Emotions at Play 