Raw

It's 3am. And I'm still awake. I was rolling in bed, compelling myself to sleep but I couldn't.

I could feel my thoughts racing, and there's just so much to say.

I really am the night owl, huh.

I crawled out of bed, turned my lights on and opened up my laptop.

I'm writing this with squinting eyes, still adjusting to my lit room.

I haven't written anything in a long time. 

I remember how it used to be – I used to be so excited to blog about my days, writing about everything and anything, whether it was interesting or not, whether people were reading it or not.

But I stopped.

And that's a story for another day.

I have so much to tell, but it has always seemed like no one has always been interested in whatever I had to say. Maybe that forced me into my shell. And whenever I tried to speak, I would always get interrupted or spoken over. And that would force me deeper into my shell.

I wasn't always an introvert.

I used to be this crazy, bold, gusty girl, who wore her heart on her sleeve, and said whatever came to mind.

I mean, I still do wear my heart on my sleeve. Still that trusting, naive girl. But I'm more reserved now. Sometimes you can see moments of my extrovert side popping out – when I try making small talks with strangers, when I get excited to make new friends, or when you see me speaking out instead of keeping quiet. Then I'll feel embarrassed and retreat back into my shell.

I miss that old me.

I don't know if it's because I've grown up – or matured, if I could say so myself – knowing that I can't just say what I want anymore without getting into trouble. But it also felt like a part of me died.

Now I just keep quiet and I don't even stand up for myself anymore. At times, I don't even recognise myself anymore. I beat myself up knowing that I should and could have said something when I didn't. It was as if I was locked up in a glass cage, watching a movie of my life. Then banging on those glass walls, screaming at myself, to do something, to say something – only to be answered by silence.

Now I'm just so jaded. Maybe it's because I know whatever I want to say will always be rebutted with an excuse. Or it's just that humans are really the scariest thing on Earth, and nothing in the world is going to change anyway. So what's the point of speaking out? The world's still gonna be spinning, eh?

I don't even remember what was the purpose of this post anymore. It's more of a word vomit post, which I've been doing too frequently. But at least I'm getting how I'm feeling out in the open. And I guess that's healthy?

I've been so used to bottling things up until I finally explode, and the consequences are irreversible. So maybe this is better for me.

Maybe it's finally time for me to start opening up again. And I know deep down that writing will help me get there.

I don't know. We'll see.