Category Archives: imo

You. Yes, You


So when [person] comments, “I almost feel sort of pretty today,” when [person] gets new clothes, a new cut, or simply because of the daylight touching and illuminating [person]’s face in all the right angles-

I always hold back the urge to say, ‘You’ve always been pretty anyway. I can’t fathom there ever being a time when you might think otherwise.’

I can’t really explain it.

It’s not that I like [person] in a romantic sense, nor are we super bffs to require such. I just think there’s something inherently beautiful about [person] that doesn’t change. I don’t know if it’s [person]’s genes, [person]’s mannerisms, [person]’s character. Or maybe simply [person] as a whole.

[Person] is beautiful. But [person] genuinely seems not to know it yet.

It’s a little frustrating, because these thoughts are borne out of pure observation. I don’t intend to make [person] feel good or happy. I don’t intend to praise [person]. It just is , you see? I see it, someone claims otherwise, it puzzles and disturbs me. [Person] is more than a superficial object whose beauty can be quantified by mere physical attributes that change so easily. However much [person] restructures [person]’s self, [person] stays pretty. Stays beautiful. In the way [person] laughs, in the way [person] speaks, the words that [person] chooses to say… A lot of inconsequential somethings that probably amount to nothing and everything all at once.

If [person] might be reading this, then I hope you’d carry at least a little hope that you’re not just occasionally pretty. That aside from either the fanatic infatuation romantic relationships bring or the ostensible awe that a face gives, there are also people who have pretty much nothing to do with you, no reason whatsoever to like you- they just see that it isn’t your face that’s pretty today. It isn’t your current words that are worth praise today. It’s just… you.

Don’t even know why I’m writing this in the dead of the night with coffee being my only companion but… yeah. There you have it.

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It makes me uncomfortable.

There. There, I fucking said it.


I was raised in a family where hugs only happen once or twice a year when I was five then pretty much none when I passed twelve. (Now before you assume I had a shitty childhood, it was awesome actually. I didn’t like touching, even back then.)

I’ve had few very close friends in my short seventeen years of life, none of whom are inclined to hair-fondling, shoulder-to-head-leaning, hand-holding, body-hugging, cheek-kissing, and other forms of casual physical contact.

Is this me over thinking things again? Yes, yes it is. I tend to do that a lot. It’s a sick habit that I sometimes love and sometimes want to stab the shit out of. Because really, who puts too much thought into the simple act of linking fingers between same-sex platonic friends, enough to write a blog post about it? Who the fuck even freezes at the slightest arm-over-your-shoulders-in-a-loose-friendly-way action?

Me, that’s who.

I know that shit about accepting oneself and all, plus the mantra that it’s okay to be different, but dear gods I just can’t get over the fact that some people can do this without giving it a second thought while a million pointless buzzfeeds run through my mind.

So now I’m trying to figure out why. I need to give myself a leeway and purge this out of my head.

Plausible Reasons Why I am Uncomfortable With Casual Skinship

 1. I over think things.

Like I said, I pay too much attention to irrelevant details. It’s another one of those instances where I know I’m not supposed to analyze too much but I still end up doing so, which in turn gives way to more resentful thinking. I don’t want to offend anyone, I don’t want anyone to think I’m weird either.

2. I have never been in any honest to goodness romantic relationship.

Maybe people get used to this kind of thing after frolicking in the romance department with someone. I don’t know. Is it supposed to help? Will the consciousness for physical interaction lessen when you do it frequently?

I have no answers.

3. I’m a maniac.

I’m well known in high school for my less-than-innocent musings (read: I am well known for being a pervert, *in spirit*). Though it’s a source of a lot of laughs for everyone (myself included) when I twist things into a comical-sexual context, being an auto-perv-filter has its disadvantages. Not only do I over think things, I see them in a perverse light too.

I’m like, ‘Shit I know I’m not supposed to be thinking this but I am oh god no brain don’t go there BAD BRAIN, BAD! Go back to your corner.’ (This is what’s going on inside while I am freezing rigid and expressionless.)

Like, I don’t even like him/her that way or ever seen him/her that way but SURPRISE INNER BRAIN THEATER FLASH!

It sucks.


Now I’ve gotten that out of the way, I hope I can move on from this topic and not fucking trip or break out into a messy sweat whenever I experience such. I might add a few others when they crop up again.

Let me clear this up: I appreciate the act itself. I appreciate the idea that you’re comfortable enough to do this with me. I appreciate that, without even thinking about it that much, you reflexively reach out for my hand or sling your arm around mine.  I just don’t know what to think or how to stop thinking about it too much.  Yeah well, now I type this out to think why I think about it an awful lot. [THINKCEPTION] (I am very confused right now.)

Hopefully no one is offended. Or creeped out.

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Isn’t it fascinating


And a little sad


How we can build our world around someone


When we don’t even exist in theirs


-yeah, so fuck you or whatever. i hope you’re fucking happy

Of Optimists And Pessimists

I’ve been seeing a lot of motivational posts on optimism.

Y’know, those hipster images that encourage us to discard negative thoughts and live for the joy of god and such.

The thing is, I don’t think being pessimistic is all that bad.

Optimists often go on with daily tasks thinking that at the end of the day, their efforts will bear fruit. They’ll get the juicy product of their labors and all their sacrifices will be worth it.

Pessimists on the other hand immediately assume the worst. Mom is fifteen minutes late? Probably a car crash. I am now an orphan. Group project for class? Most likely, I’ll mess everything up for everyone and not meet the deadline. I’ll fail this class.

If you put it into perspective, optimists are able to go on because they see something worth striving for. They hold on to this little ray of hope to continue. ‘Think positive’ is the mantra, no matter how shitty your day is turning out to be. At the end of it all, you’re learning/achieving/making something

Then what motivates the pessimist? They’re scared. They don’t want to expect anything in fear of being disappointed. Whatever they’d find in this figurative end of the tunnel is something frightening and unpredictable.

But they go on. They do it without even expecting much.

To some it might be a sad way of life, heaping this much unnecessary sorrow on things that have yet to happen. I beg to differ. Because when you set your standards low, so long as you still try (albeit resignedly), the unexpected triumph seems a thousand times sweeter. It’s like finally feeling a freezing drink slide down your throat in the middle of a scorching summer.

I’m not saying it’s better to be a pessimist. Neither am I implying optimists suck because they need to have some bone dangling in front of them  to function. A little too much of everything is lethal. Be an optimist when you want to be. Be a pessimist if you feel the need to be.  All I’m saying is that either mindsets have their purposes and whatever suits you best should be what you choose. Whatever makes you feels safe. Whatever makes you happy.

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