I was never an introvert, I believe, but I’m not an extrovert either. I’m somewhere in between.

I’m an introverted extrovert, or an extroverted introvert.

But does it matter? Do I have to fit with either?

I’ve always found introverts more interesting. They keep to themselves most of the time, but their mind never rests. When they speak it’s almost always calculated meaningful words. They face many problems socially, granted, however their methodology is admirable. And over the years, and with a lot of friction, they manage to create their own manual book, one they share with no one but themselves, but they eventually fit in with all the other crowds on their own terms.

Extroverts are usually more fun. They’re loud and always the center of attention. They love to make everyone laugh and constantly entertain everyone around. They seem to have a word about every topic, even if it’s not always a serious note. Turning a gloomy subject around to a joke is a strong quality of theirs, and being serious is not something they enjoy. But in the end, when they’re all alone inside their heads, they find themselves incapable of cheering themselves up. They try to snap out of a serious thought.

Comedy is the cooping mechanism for both though. A joke can always make an uncomfortable awkward situation smoother.

Given I lack the ability to joke about personal pain or a thought I’m invested in, does this prove that I don’t fit with either?


On second thoughts..

I thought I stopped writing because I shared my thoughts with someone and therefore the need to write subsided. I’m starting to reconsider.


I write, not because I’m good at it; I probably have the poorest of vocabulary and the weakest of structures. But every now and then I get that itch to write, and I do.

I don’t write for anyone but myself and that’s why I don’t publish my notes anywhere. I don’t expect to be held against those capable of formulating witty phrases composed of an array of words, carefully selected and placed.

I write because when I reach that point, words are slowly choking me and the only let out is this domain or else they’d get the best of me.

I envy those capable of expressing their thoughts and emotions in beautiful literature, because maybe, just maybe, words could nurse a heavy heart.


It’s sad reading old tweets and blog posts of mine. The assertiveness with which I spoke would’ve led anyone to believe that I knew exactly who I was and what I wanted to do with my life. The way I always voiced my opinion and fought for it was admirable; I never gave up no matter how tedious the debate got.

It makes me wonder if that was truly how I felt or was it, as I believe now, just a projection of someone else?

Was I on track and deviated? Or was I never on the right path, or at least the path I want?

Have I lost interest in getting my point across? Or is it because I know the person in front of me would not even consider what I’m saying for a second; basically saving my breath? Or have I become so indifferent to the extent that I don’t care about anything happening around me.

Did I become too invested in my own life and issues that I lost people around me? Did I drive my most important people away?

Life’s a journey we have to endure, but when do we ever get to feel content? Does one ever feel content with where they are? Is that the beginning of the end? Is that a characteristic of an unambitious person?

In the end, life’s a journey we’re forced to endure because escaping would be considered cowardly.


From the drafts:

I’ve embarked on a journey of an unknown destination.

Years into my existence and the definition of who I am, I realized I have not existed; I have not been myself. The definition of who I am was blurry. I, through no one’s fault, grew up to be a modified image of someone else.

I discovered that who I am is not who I want to be. What I do is not what I believe in. My goals and expectations are not my own. I’m not me.

Years after certainty and rationale, making such a discovery throws you out of sorts.


From all my draft posts, which are a lot, this must be the most relatable at the moment.

It seems that long before my therapy I knew that I was a modified image; picture perfect. I suppressed every attempt of the real me surfacing to the point where it vanished between obligations and expectations.

And now, I’ve reached a point I never thought I would. I stand here alone and unsure. I have no one but myself. I’m at a point where my entire existence is inexplicable.

I’ve been led to believe that I’m ordinary, that my achievements are what define me, that a temp break to sort complications out is not tolerated, that even the closest of people may suddenly decide to leave. And then, there’s no one for me but me.

I always knew I do a half-ass job at everything. I never cared to nourish my musical skills, gave up on drawing and writing. I tried to fit into the norm and forgot that perhaps I’m not normal.

But now, even the luxury of leaning on someone is not there.

After pushing myself everyday to get out of bed, I found that one day I woke up and it had sunk in. I had finally realized that now is the time I get back to me. That I’m doing this for myself and not for anyone. I have the need to prove to myself that I’m not ordinary.

They say the 30s are when you start getting a clear image of your identity. My journey started at 29 and now I’m at a place I never thought I’d get to. I may not know who I truly am just yet, but I’m working on it, and I know that I will not allow anyone to define me according to their standards.

Everyday it gets a little easier. The pain decreases and I’m left with strength. Mind me, I have bad days, but I pull myself out of it eventually. Soon those bad days will not be so bad.

Virtual make-ups

We’re taking social networking and the Internet to a whole new level and not in a good way. This was never what it was intended for, but here we are.

Why would a married couple apologize to each other over social media? Why would you not put down your phone and walk up to your partner or even call and apologize? Quite simple. How have we come to this?

How do we so easily allow people to know, even the slightest of details, about our relationships? How is that so acceptable now?

A word to the wise, it is never a good idea to have the entire Internet know when you and your partner are not on good terms or are making up. The ever so public apology over Facebook and/or Twitter will not magically solve whatever caused the problem to start with, heck it could very well add insult to injury.
Furthermore, even though it’s hard to imagine this until you’ve actually experienced it, but there exist such people who (perhaps unconsciously) envy all the mushy lovey dovey statuses and posts between you and your partner thinking you’re always happy and in love. They don’t see that, like any other couple, there are ups and downs.
There also exist people who decide to spice up a fight. Perhaps their heart is in the right place, but the moment you share any facts or outlines about your fight, you allow their point of view to influence your relationship.
A given fact is that fights between couples are quickly forgotten. Words said and actions done take their toll and are washed away with the making up and apologies. However other people don’t forget. They would sometimes even remind you of the past at the worst time possible. And instead of dealing with just the one problem at hand, you’re faced with all the previous pile ups which you might have already fixed anyway.

Unless you’re a “trouple”, it makes no sense that your business does not remain between just the two of you.
Believe me, it can only make you two stronger.

Besides, virtual make-ups are absolutely nothing compared to the real deal!