Horror Vacui

I've never been afraid of empty spaces. In fact, you know how much I detest crowds and cramped spaces, almost to the point of claustrophobia. There's a certain unpleasantness in having to compete for space and having to get stuck with people I don't know—especially with relationships.

I've always thought of myself as a lone wolf. I manage best on my own. Friends are great, but the freedom of making decisions for myself and not having to depend on anyone appeals to me. In the last couple of years I've managed to train myself in the art of self-sufficience. I've gone from clingy to detached. Don't ask me how or why, but something changed.

Lately, however, I'm starting to become afraid again. Those careless, costly mistakes are taking their toll. I'm running the risk of losing you—and despite my best efforts, I'm absolutely terrified.

You see, you are an exception. To others I'm calm and collected. I laugh and I'm silly, and I care deeply for my friends, but even my closest friends only go so deep. It's gotten to the point where there's an automatic barrier that they can't simply cross. I'm also the best quitter there is—when something annoys or disinterests me, I walk away. I avoid, I resist, and I hide. But you I can never hide from.

With you I'm rash, impractical, emotional; totally irrational. I'm child-like—both when I try too hard to be cute, and when I forget that I'm not supposed to be too vulnerable. I don't know if that's the worst of me, but it's the part of me that drops my defenses. I guess it's also what allows me to feel most contented and at peace when I'm with you.

But with what I've been doing, I've been shutting you out. I apologize for being selfish and stupid and uncaring. It's far less than what you deserve.

It's amazing how you put up with me for the last seven years, when every now and then I have to pull a major overhaul of my attitudes. But here I go again. Someday soon, I'll make it up to you and all that patience will pay off.

I'll make sure of that. Because there are some things I can't afford to lose.

It seems, that the only space I'm afraid to leave empty is the one I've reserved exclusively for you.

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Growing Pains

I know it's pretty late to blog about Inception or my birthday. Nevertheless this is a blog sort of about my birthday and it starts with me watching Inception.

I actually watched the movie a couple of weeks before my birthday. It was the first movie I ever watched by myself, and it was an awesome first time, I must say. I loved how intelligent the whole thing was. However, it didn't blow my mind as much, because I didn't think of the many interpretations of the plot when I watched it. Aside from the kick-ass zero-gravity fight scenes, what really struck me about the film was that it showed how easily we could lose track of reality.

The slightly depressing part is, I think I'm getting too grounded in it. This is where my birthday comes in. You see, I turned twenty barely a week ago. And while I don't want to be Peter Pan, I'm a teeny bit worried that I might be getting too caught up with the mundane things in my life. 

Actually, people never believe me when I tell them my age. I'm already used to being mistaken for either a boy, or a fourteen year-old (and on one hilarious instance, I was mistaken for both). I have no problems with acting like a kid either—you know, playing computer games when I'm supposed to be studying for exams, not cleaning my room, that kind of stuff.

But the thing is, I'm afraid I may have forgotten how to dream. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a detective, a ninja, and a magician. Later on I wanted to be a lawyer. Then I started reading the Harry Potter series and I wanted to be J.K. Rowling.

During my last year in high school, I seriously considered a degree in Humanities or Creative Writing. After doubting my writing prowess and having countless mini-debates with my mom, I decided to let it go. I personally settled for a degree in Computer Science, because it was a "serious, real" career—and the salary isn't so bad either.

And then you probably know the rest—I shifted out and landed in OrCom, which I think is an awesome course. It's where I want to be. Now my concept of dreaming is lusting over a job as an account manager for an advertising firm. I'd earn enough and buy my parents a house, buy myself a car, and then get my own place. I want a kid or two (but unless I start gaining romantic interest in guys then I'd probably have to save up for a costly, husband-less procedure, or for adoption). So far off, I know. It probably shows maturity, and having goals is a good thing. But where'd my other dreams go?

Sure, I'm gonna grow up. Who says I can't be awesome at it?

I know stability is a good thing, but I can't help but want to shake things up a bit. I just turned twenty, and now, more than anything, is the time to live life before my responsibilities start catching up with me. I mean, my mom's constantly on my neck about graduating ('cause I got delayed). I already have a family to support, and future hospital bills to worry about. So don't blame me for wanting to be young and reckless and stupid. I just want to be alive.

(Yes, I know that was incredibly cheesy and cliche.)

I guess the first un-adult thing I should do is to stop thinking too much and start doing (fun) things instead. So I'm gonna go now,and I'm gonna have fun. So should you.