My Tap Tap Revolution of Self-Hate
Here I am starting this entry as I try to jam break the interlocking gears of catastrophic thought after one of my exams.
Here it is raw, unedited thoughts as it was just a few hours ago:
I've been filling the crevices of my inadequacies with this front of enthusiasm and vivacious optimism. I trick people into believing that I possess a tiny inkling of strengths with my pseudo writing skills when in actuality I hide all the moments when feel nothing but a useless piece of crap. I'm trying so hard and every time I think that I'm free, here I find myself slumped back down to ground zero. I'm trying so hard to be brave to compensate for all the times I gave in without a fight. I'm trying so hard to be that light for everyone who looks up to me (for god knows what reason). I'm trying so hard to stay perfect for all the messes around me. I know I shouldn't harp on my illnesses and emerge because no one should need to bother with my trivial problems that warrant nothing but invalidating shove-asides. There is so much pressure to uphold this masterpiece of composure that I'm striving to see installed in the museum of success stories. I hate who I am at times and though I know it's okay to feel this way sometimes, it's just excruciatingly hard to summon everything within me to repel the old familiar whispers and embraces by my past demons which supposedly promised better days. I hate how my mind still goes to that automatically and the thoughts that I thought I had effectively stamped out, clings like a stubborn parasite, sucking away the joy I was desperate to maintain.
In times like these, I turn to my refuge of pen and paper; to alphabets and symbols; desperate for any shred of a tangible release. These fingers are no longer shoved in like the barber's quartet (all except my thumb) down my throat.
Instead, I mindfully interlock them with the noir plastic and bodacious brushes. However, as I glide through the papers of productive distraction, I imagine filling the pores within these sheets of modern papyrus with blotches of my failures. In my process of release of abc's and amateur colour swatches, my fingers derail from the groves of the tool I've employed. They begin to spin into a hysteria of my old favourite of tap tap revolution. I begin to treat this slip up as an invitation to achieve a self-destruction score better than my previous best. It becomes a series of taps, combo streaks and shaking and swiping away my sanity just to attain the perfect 100% streak of crushing my well-being.
3...2...1...The opening jitters of "Better Off Dead" start to play as the game begins:
Tap: I hate how I continue to look at blades in the school bookshop with longing.
Tap: I hate how I have to bathe with the fear of laying my soapy hands on a flabby stomach.
Tap: I hate how I made that mistake in the exam just now. I'm supposed to achieve perfection. I'm sure you shit head made way more errors - you're just destined to fail in life. Give up now bitch.
Tap: I hate how I feel impending shame in the time leading up to when my friend flashes me a photo they took of me
(shake phone for double the points, and so I do)
Tap and hold for a combo streak:
I hate how my mind revisits the convicted thoughts that I was certain were cast into the oblivion. I hate the haunting thought that whir like glass shards, carving each fault-line into my mind. I hate how it continues to come back and I'm starting to realise that this self-hate and automatic coping mechanism ideas will stay (though, subdued) for my eternity. I hate how my depression has crumpled my mind like tissue, inching me closer to the self-perception that I am destined for the trash and nothing more. I hate the inner war that establishes an arena in my mind every time I feel like I have messed up. I hate the creeping thoughts that caress me with tantalising tendons: trust me, if you follow me, you'll feel better. Come on, you know how good it made you feel when you manage to purge blood - don't you miss your determination to starve for days - don't you want that awe from people who can't stick to a simple diet for more than a day? You know you want that status back Candice. Don't kid yourself that you're strong and all this rubbish that you're making a positive change in society. Give up and follow me again ~
(Swipe up for bonus points, and so I do) I am in over my head and hate myself for isolating and taking it out on everyone I see. I hate how I am incredibly unprepared and pathetic I am unlike others to face the forthcoming giants as I formally enter the working world. I hate the effort that saps me dry, leaving me borderline ready for the next wave of disappointments that I will present before the people around me. My illnesses love it. They keep feeding me more opportunities to get a higher numeric score on self-hate. my phone screen flashes with bubblegum unicorn pee and it reads:
Perfect! 365 note streak! Congrats on your new high score of demolishing your soul)
Perfect, another summative year of self-depreciation accomplished flawlessly. And I think, well at least there's this sense of comforting achievement I have attained by channelling my uselessness into a triumph.
This never lasts; I know it never does; and resultantly, I reinstate the thought that this too shall pass. I've been utterly beaten down and all my battleon mana and health potions have been depleted to keep me fighting the monsters within and before me. My fingers have no more strength to play with the death-game They start to spasm as if they have just consumed a triple shot blue spin at the bar. I find myself back to the drawing block, trying to regain my footing with these powerful forelimbs. My fingers cobble up to hold the pen as I write to rediscover my strengths or whatever pittance I allowed myself to appreciate myself for. I think to myself: Although I have massively improved on coping to be on par with everyone else's strength and resilience, I still feel crazily inept. I'm trying so goddamn hard but it never seems to be enough for me. It baffles, yet warms my heart to see people sending me messages of how I have saved their life and that I'm so strong. Even anonymous people hailing from Australia , Hong Kong, Indonesia and etc have taken the time to send me messages and you guys have no idea how much this keeps me going. Thank you for believing in me when I was dead-set in my self-perception of hopelessness. You guys are my liquid sunshine when I was the solid fixture of the black night.
Just a fraction of this love from these guardian angels makes me brave to keep biting bullets as they come.