Iriga 2022

 5 a.m.

Woke up after less than 2 hours of sleep because of a suicide dream.

Kids are on the top bed in my old room in iriga. I lie in my thin solo bed on the floor.

Had a milo and ful medammes with bread.

Cried over a prayer through a Bible app.

I am trying to be conscious and be more present with my kids. I haven't been messaging anyone, even ignoring long convos with friends.

 I notice that I am now a little off...not used to touchiness, which I need to initiate. The kids need hugs. I need hugs. 

I also need to talk to Art more than just laugh over silly jokes (but I hope those laughters will create fond memories).

I hope Dylan also feel that I care a lot about her thoughts even if I playfully debate her over imagined or exagerrated scenarios.

I want to be happy. 

Hope I am doing the right thing.

I want to be remembered 

not only for songs, 

but for little moments of joy. 

Falling Out of Grace

 This is what having a relationship with a narcissist feels like:

You are left wanting. You adjust to her own time. You can't really move because without her even saying it, all action is upon her approval.

She makes you believe that the "secret world" you created with her is better than reality— making you feel like the toxicity is part of the deal. She makes sure noone will hear your cries for help—as nobody knows.

You convince yourself that despite all clues pointing to her lies and infidelity, and she can't even give you a proper excuse, you'll hold on. You defy reason. 

She'll bombard you with sweet gestures. She'll clutch her nails on you. She'll disguised obsession with love. Your addiction is her drug. 

She'll keep you guessing, as you swing with her moods. Everything is a push-pull catastrophe.

She is the criteria you need to please. She is the only standard that is all-knowing and right. 

She'll push you to your worst, so there'll be evidence that she might be innocent. But oh, innocence is the farthest thing from her. She knows what she is capable of.

And lastly, she'll justify with pride that she can't be hurt and that you put yourself in that position. She will deny gaslighting you. She will deny your existence. She will make you the villain.

Good Place

Had my first therapy session today. It didn't help the way I was hoping to. The therapist talked a lot, trying to relate to what an artist is going through and missing the big picture. I guess I should deal with this on my own.

 Took a lot for me to book a session. The first one canceled because of a technical difficulty, without even considering the courage I have to muster just to be there.

I feel ugly and inadequate. 94 kgs and can't find the determination to lose more. I need to go down to 70kgs to be healthy. Not to mention, I am losing a lot of hair. Scares me.

I found that coffee is the only thing I look forward to every day. I don't know if that is a sad thing.

I have gigs lined up, but that is me trying to push myself. I haven't done 2 sets for years and doing it alone in front of a mainstream night market crowd is scary. Let's see.

I'm going to Baler this weekend to play without my friends tagging along. Hoping to meet strangers that can inspire me. 

Captive Audience

 My mommy cat Rangu has been extra clingy. She's always hanging out beside me or leaning on my right shoulder. I wonder what it feels like to have someone warm to be in her place. I can sleep around, but I know the difference of real human company.

Cried twice today. Did not wail. Just teary-eyed over a sermon from Elevation Church, and now, the decision to take another benadryl pill just to sleep. 

I crave for peace of mind, but I am quite convinced that it will take this lifetime to even feel that. My mind gets scrambled just thinking of the possibility — and this is not even an exaggeration.

I have been jealous of the success of others.

I have been envious of the warmth of friends who are always available.

I have been angry over people who easily earns money and are born to privileged homes.

I have been depressed over the fact that I have nothing --- all just fleeting hints of possible joy.

I was never depressed about turning 40. I am quite confident actually that I look good in this age. I have been receiving genuine awe that I don't look my age and I cling to those compliments because those are all I have.

And my cats.

Sugar for a Pill

 I found that hanging out with musicians somehow takes away the loneliness. Though I still doubt their intentions of even keeping me company, it is better than nothing.

2nd day of the Shoegaze Festival.

Someone mentioned Washington Drama Club. Got jealous of performers tonight. I do want their applause. I do deserve a captive audience — at least a chance to let them listen.

The problem is like fireflies, I can't capture the burst of creative ideas and put them in a jar. Just one angkas ride away and puff, it is all dead and gone.

I should read more, but I have trouble even finishing netflix series that I resort to rewatching Seinfeld to calm my anxious mind. Boy, that guy is getting richer by my streams.

4:51 am and two malings later, I am writing this in hope that I can sleep without any lonely thought floating across my tired brain.

Soon enough, that benadryl pill will work its magic. 

I need money. I can't seem to have enough to buy happiness.

Hopeless Case

Nov. 25, 2022

7:44 a.m.

How much more can I take?

I just learned about imposter syndrome and maybe that's what I am going through. 

Yes I am not sure because even classifying under a recognizable disorder, I feel I am not worthy.

Validation shouldn't be expected from others but we are built that way so I learned to accept that as social beings, everything is left to judgement of the world.

I just want to feel I belong.

I just want to feel loved.

I just want to feel that I affect and inspire people more than I assume in my head.

Fuck nobody even cares about what my music is about, and we have a lot of thrash getting the attention they don't deserve.

I kept finding myself in this cycle and not by lack of trying to get out — there is a sense of acceptance that to finally be happy and be out of financial constraints and be accepted, I need luck. Divine intervention. A sudden magical plottwist.

And that's one hell of a prayer.

Evidence-based

 It gets complicated when all they see are photos to convince the "friends" list of your imaginary happy life. And I also have an imaginary girlfriend who disappears whenever she wants to without a care of my feelings. So much for evidence-based love.

And sometimes it is hard to lie. My body has been telling me that by giving me all the shit to bother me like obesity and insomnia.

***

I have been taking benadryl almost every week to sleep. 

***

Worried about being a good father. Trying my best. Feeling bitter that I am not always available because I don't have a home in legazpi and I can't afford to always go home. I hope Dylan and Art feel my struggle and see my sacrifices. I constantly think about this. 

***

I always worry that I'll die before I can even record all the best songs I have. 

<But what best songs? People don't even read your lyrics. They still think you are an old grumpy fraud.>

***

I am glad that the songwriting session with the band turned out well. We didn't discuss goals but still, a good start. That has been bothering for weeks. Felt like I've gone through a breakup. But I've learned way enough to not rely on the good times.

So yes, I need to form another band so I won't be held back. Lots of materials. My death clock is ticking.

Mad Tangerine?

Tanjirine?

Between Tangerine?

***

The benadryl is kicking in. Hope it will promise me good dreams.

FEB 25 2021

 Saw this post today and wondered how I didn't get to post this. 

---------------‐-------------------------‐---‐----------------‐---

I've been practicing forgiviness

for things worth forgetting,

And I am failing most of the time.

These triggers, when it is pushed into you like a noose on your neck, they paralyze your soul. And the funny thing is I am highly functional for anyone to suspect that there is a deep dark void that consumes me every other day. 

See what I did there? 

I am even ashamed to admit the routinary hell I have been in.

I am getting better. I like to think so.

I have been trying to live on my own and accept my self worth more. The trick is not taking everything seriously.

Yes it is a trick. I am tricking myself. I am reminding myself now it is a trick.

Be functional, Ahmad.

You are doing fine.

You are worth loving.

You will be ok.