In a lifetime, how many times have we wished that we can be someone else? I cannot recount those moments when I stare blankly dreaming I am someone or somewhere else. If only I can do something about it in a snap I would. It’s not that I’m not satisfied of who I am but it feels nice to let the life you desire flash before your eyes like a montage.
Lately I’ve been watching Thirteen Reasons Why, a book by Jay Asher turned into a Netflix TV series. It’s about a girl who committed suicide because of people she considered her friends turned out to be her frustrations. She slit her wrists and bled herself to death in the bathroom leaving box of mixtapes that rehashed her pains that caused by this thirteen people — the reasons why she ended her own life. Those mixtapes are being passed on from one to the other, such a dreadful act to recall how you became such an ass in someone’s life. It’s like being haunted not just by her voice but your memories with her. Hannah, you’re such a tough act to follow. Kudos!
I wonder what if I’m Hannah Baker? What if I try to put myself on her shoes? Well, I don’t know how to die as much as I wanted to die but the thought on how I’ll going to die terrifies me. What she did is another tough act to follow. I am actually halfway through finishing the episodes and even if I read the book I already forgotten some of the characters. I want to Google the other reasons but I think I’ll leave it this way — how I relate myself to the current episode I’m watching.
I got my own Clay Jensen once in my entire existence, he is my ultimate frustration. I mean he’s my best pal but he just can’t tell me he cares for me or should I say love me. Probably I’m assuming but thanks Clay for the great memories. I wish I got you on Dollar Valentines. He was always there, saving me from my own disgrace or probably be with me during times when I want to waste my life during late night weekends. He’ll always be my awkward friend.
I had my own Justin Foley who lured me into believing he likes me but left me hanging. Short-lived story I don’t want to remember — ever.
Several Alex Standall whom I considered my friends but stood me up when I needed them the most or I don’t know maybe there are things unexplained and they’re just gone in my life.
There goes my own Courtney who is so nice and pretty as it seems but a total bitch. She does not accept herself as she is and would just want to pretend that she’s so sweet, smart and caring.
Got no stalker like Tyler, famous Jessica and rapist like Bryce but these kind of people surely exist in other people’s life montage.
I am Miss Popular, well popularly known to be the good kid, student leader and miss diligent in her studies. I got to enjoy being a student leader since high school and being president of some organizations gave me that pride and should I say bragging rights. Certificates, medals and awards did not make me love my life more. It was an add on, something worthwhile but not my life purpose. Knowing you represented your school once in a district quiz bee, conference and whatever that makes your school proud to have you makes you walk like a boss but inside I feel empty. I know, I had my fair share of what Marcus life was. I can actually relate to each character revealed in the episodes I’m watching. I too can be a Tony, someone who keeps a lot of secrets and torn between something.
Well, these kind of people exist not just in Hannah Baker’s life but also ours. Probably they are not named like the ones I mentioned but their personalities surely match. I am exasperated as much as I am interested in human behavior. How frustrating it is seeing people acting as they seem to be but actually not in real life. I then start to wonder what’s going on in their minds. How we unconsciously affect others knowing we always pretend we are okay when we are definitely not or sometimes we project our frustration to others even the ones we love. We wear masks that suit us each day because we have an image to protect.
Commonly, I am misunderstood.
It’s not actually surprising because I am pretty much aware of it. I don’t bother to explain myself so say what you want to say as long as I know myself. I got no terrible shut inside my stash so I’m pretty much fine with people’s opinions. I can be Hannah’s reason of dying and on the other hand I can be Hannah. I mean everyone of us felt being not enough or being judged but unlike Hannah I’m not giving up on assholes. I’ll end my life because I can’t find any reason for living not because of those people who bullied and belittled me. F*ck you bitches!(Sorry for the language kids.)
As my reality drifts and my subconscious dreams takeover my mind, I came across a simple realization — face your nightmares head on. I mean, my reality sucks but I got to face each of it to test my strength but of course I need to know myself better. It’s what I call power — beautifully drawn from my core.
There are days when I hate talking and explaining myself and there are days when I want to socialize with other humans. I pick whom I want to be with because I rather be alone than be with a group that I don’t like, people whose vibes don’t match mine. I easily blend in but it’s tiring sometimes so I choose my crowd, wisely. Ambiverts are like that, I guess.
My hate is at the same levels with my hope in humanity. Just like Hannah I want to have friends, friends that would actually understand me and won’t hesitate to tell me my shortcomings. We are social creatures, we hate being alone because being alone with our thoughts can sometimes make one a memory — like Hannah. Suicide is real. It’s not just something one does to seek for attention, they do it because they no longer find meaning in their existence. You got to hold on to anything that will make you feel alive, that will keep you alive.
My life and who I am is something. I mean we should be proud of who we are right? We’re not bad people or sometimes we are not aware that we are being mean to others. In my case, either I’m aware or I’m not — mostly I am. I can’t change the way I am especially to those people who I know is up for no good in my life. People who are total pretenders and people who talks about others in a bad light. In my case, I hate lying because of course I need to cope up with my lies which is a total stress so I rather hear the truth than sugarcoat stuff. Of course there are white lies, lies you tell to save lives. Ahmmmm…. That didn’t sound right but you get my point.
So the point here is that we are not what we seem to be. We dream to be someone else. We wish to be somewhere else. We want to be with someone but scared the shit out of us to admit it. We are all pretenders. We are all actors and actresses. We all have our own darkest secrets we don’t want to be revealed because we have a reputation. We have images we want to project. We are who we are because we wanted to be who we are, well at least be someone likeable in the eyes of society. Our skeletons are all waiting to be revealed or probably not but then again who has no secrets in this world?
Be strong my friend. We screwed our lives several times. People hurt and rejected us but we can’t dwell on all those reasons why we should end our life. People who suffered from depression are beautiful people, the strongest ones I know. We battle demons who enticed us to end each suffering we feel but choosing to live despite everything is admirable. Death is not an escape but facing our realities, the complexities this life has to offer and all those detours to our dream path lead us to greater heights. A path that actually made all the scars a beautiful reminder that no matter what we survived life. We are warriors. Life warriors who victoriously fought our crazy selves. The self we hide because we are afraid of being judged.The side that nobody might learn to love. The side that we hate.
I watched the sun as it sets while I’m inside a bus on my way home. The crimson skies slowly made me back to my own reality. Welcome back, Sharon!