The Door's Open and I'm Bitter

     I believe I may have become bitter.  I have been through so many crazy experiences; from health issues to culture shock, emotional abuse with physical pain.  But I have always maintained an air of confidence and remained optimistic about the future.  These have not changed, per se.  It's more like I feel contaminated by a negative tinge.   Maybe I was born with optimism because I am hopeful for a happier future with less pain and drama.  The pain that I felt in the past was afflicted upon me by others.  Life is not fair.  I know that.  Medically speaking, a person is more susceptible to an infection and are more likely to present seriously if they have some predisposing disease or illness.  This is because they are already weak, giving organisms an easier way in.  I think that something similar is happening to me psychologically.  Something sad happened to me and while I learn to deal with it, I'm struck with feelings of the past because my soul is susceptible to such feelings right now.
    In the past I've been disappointed by a range of people; or a range of relations to be precise.  First it started with my family drama; which was devastating and shocking.  But it made me closer to the relatives with whom I started to live with.  But this only led to more drama; a drama that was continuous and will be never ending until the end of my term of dependence.  This only drew me closer to my friends.  I treated them like family.  But the girl I considered to be my sister brought out the worst in me when she tried to pimp me out in an attempt to juggle her many inconspicuous boyfriends.  This incident caused our separation; only her absence was soon filled by another.
     She was probably the worst and most dangerous entry into my life.  She saw me to be her doorway to gold.  I was her only wealthy asset.  But while she enjoyed using me like she would an ATM machine, a shadow of jealousy slowly engulfed her.  Once the jealousy took over, she couldn't act the friendly role anymore.  She turned against me and became addicted to the idea of ruining my life.  She managed to revolve her entire life around ways to torture me emotionally.  On January 2, 2011; Satan appeared in her eyes as her emotional abuse turned physical.  But January 3rd marked the end of her torture as the evidence of her violence was presented.
      There was a reason for the peak of jealousy which awoke a demon within her.  It was love.  I was in love and was being loved.  The idea of me being happy was so intolerable to her that she had to try and end it; end me.  Her attack against my life gave me the power of evidence.  I had her begging for forgiveness.  Though I know she is still fighting an addiction to evil, her attack against me gave me an upperhand and I finally had control over her abuse.
      I thought this final result was what prevented a traumatic response in me.  I was fairly calm.  The attack didn't affect me much at the time.  But it is affecting me now.  I know that it was he who blocked the response.  I had his shoulder and strength.  I felt protected and happy with him.  So I decided to hide behind the happy feelings and not feel the presented impact.  But he's gone now.  I'm left all alone without his love to hide behind.  He left me weak and vulnerable; sensitive to those rushing emotions.  He helped me obstruct them for months and his absence pushed aside the boulder; leaving a gaping hole for them to burst through.
    I'm bitter because I know my fault is my high expectations in my people.  I was in a fantasy, thinking that if I gave 110% love, I would receive 100% back.  The smartest way to live is to give however much you want to but not expect any in return.  It's a great thing to say and even believe.  It avoids disappointment and brings appreciation to the smallest joys and affections.  But it is almost humanly impossible after you weigh in what you deserve, because you deserve to have a few expectations.  And while I was working my way down from 100% expectations to 0, I skipped zero altogether only to land in the negative margin.
   His abandonment blew me out of proportion.  Now instead of hoping to expect nothing, I'm expecting the worst to happen.  I'm expecting the worst in others.  I'm constantly looking out for the hole in the ground.  And even while I'm looking, I'm just sure that I'll be blinded and pushed in.  I'm bitter because I'm expecting more pain.  I justify these expectations with the hope that it will sting less.  An opened door means less mass destruction getting in.

Blue Sunflower, Black Tulip, Red Tree....

 
      I want to create a new world on my canvas.  Nature, as it is, is already beautiful.  Still I hope to show a different side of the flower.  I want to show that the a tulip, so elegant, can be bolder.  The sunflower is cheerful, but I want to make her breathtaking.  Trees are forgotten.  In a land, one walks past them, barely glancing.  They stand magnificently, wise with age.  We walk right past them, directing our attention to the patch of violets.  So let me create a vibrant, eye-catching tree for my new world.  
     I believe that my world gets reflected onto my strokes of paint.  I have always loved painting, yet it didn't become my passion until I was being forced to forget my talent.  I was forced away from home; forced to abolish any future possibility of a career with art.  I was forced into a society that would never accept me nor try to understand.  I continue to struggle with my perception of this society along with their culture.  I believe that is what evoked me to realism and portraits.  It was my venture to perceive people exactly as they were.
     Time then presented me with disappointment after another; coupled with heartbreak and pain, inflicted upon me by friends, family, lover, and even strangers.  It is the evolution of my intuition that no one is truly as they seem, which has led me to the recognition that realism is overrated, at least for my world.  Now I strive to bring forth that true hidden character in anyone; and blend the core personality with the outer facade.  So let me show the dark side to the suave tulip; the brilliance behind an otherwise insignificant face.  I declare, 'no more' to these faces of us supposedly highly intelligent beings.  I will recreate this jumbled world of mine; mix the cultures into a flow, and redefine simple beings as fierce, beautiful ones.  
    As of now, my world is a collage; an overlapping puzzle rather than an intermixed flow of images.  Let me blend in the edges; swirl around the colors with a swivel of my brush, so that my road of patchwork moulds into a flowing river.  Teach me, Oh Blue Sunflower, Black Tulip, and Red Tree; the sanity behind this bizarre world of mine.

Rainbow Energy

I don't know why it is, but I think that the best word to describe me would be "rainbow."   I just love colorful objects, like these flowers.  My tiny 7 x 14 ft room has splashes of color.  There probably isn't a color that you wouldn't find in it.  Whether or not I am the one to mix the colors and create the beauty, just being around them makes my day brighter.  

The Lingering Ghost

   
       You took me for granted.  Over the years, I had built such a strong wall around my heart.  And I willingly smashed it down for you.  I let you fill it up completely, without thinking twice.  You knew the impact that you made on me.  But it wasn't enough for you.  You had to test it.  You should have just had faith; faith in me, faith in us.  Now you're gone; but you still linger in my heart.  How do I build a new wall if you're still lingering?
       Tell me how to forget you.  Do I just wait patiently for you to disappear completely?  Or should I start laying down the foundation of the boundary?  I don't even know if it is possible.  Maybe I can let another in and allow him to kick you out.  But will he be able to?  Or will you forever be a sauntering ghost to my soul?
       I feel a connection to you at the very core of my being.  There's a tug whenever the memories come back... the happy ones.  And before I can relish the soft pull, you stab me again with your abandonment.
       I'm distracting the world with my strut of attitude and my new funky haircut; hoping that they don't notice my quaky soul.  My bright convincing smile confirms everyone's suspicion that the rebellious bitch doesn't even give a damn.  But every second of everyday, I'm fighting the urge to call you and beg you to come back.  The hope that you, too, feel these soul- shattering jerks is what keeps this bridge from disappearing completely.  I'm wishing that you'll pick up the phone and show me that I'm not the only one feeling these aftershocks.  I want you to come back before I give into the temptation of calling you back.  Because I can't give in.
      If I give in, it'll only mean that I love you more than your love for me.  I tried so hard to get you back.  Now it's your turn.  And all I ask is that you try once.  But you aren't trying one bit.  You have more love for your ego and pride than for me. That's how I know there is no point in my trying anymore.  You ruined us by your inability to act true.  There is absolutely nothing attractive about a coward.  Would a commitment to true love really be so damaging to your ego?  Just stop your act.  Come out of play.  It's time for reality and truth.

them smoldering thoughts...

     

     Today, I went to my regular ophthalmology postings.  But I had to leave.  I couldn't stay.  I felt suffocated by all of their thoughts.  That makes no sense, I know.  How can others' thoughts smother a person?  But they can. And they do suck the oxygen out of the room.  Because these girls don't try to hide their thoughts.  Or maybe they just don't care enough to even try.  The speakings' of their minds are displayed right on their faces.  They paint a picture with just the movement of a few facial muscles.  They create expressions that speak so many words that would never dare come by way of their larynges.

     Sometimes it is the mere emptiness of their expressions that say so much.  They think so much about not expressing their true opinions, that they fail in hiding their joy.  Why are they so joyous?  Well, now that is just a stupid question.  Because nothing could make them more ecstatic than to know that the notorious junior and the good looking (but never to be impressed by any of them) classmate of theirs finally broke up.  

     Before we broke up, I could see jealousy on some of their faces.  Others probably didn't care about him in particular, just the part about him being my senior.  They thought, "This junior is out of bounds."  It was always so easy to read those faces.  Then after we broke up, their jealous expressions turned into smug ones.  They finally got what all of them had been wishing for all those months when he and I were together.  Now everyday, the mere image of me brings them pure joy for despite their lack of that man, at least they have a man; which is more than what I can say for the time being.  That is, these are THEIR smothering thoughts.  

    And then there are those few girls in his class who actually started to like me more once I started dating him.  Maybe it was because I was dating their boyfriends' friend.  So they felt a connection with me.  But that connection is now broken.  It broke before I could use the connection to bring them closer into the bubble.  And now, neither I nor they know how we're supposed to react with the other.  Some won't look at me anymore; others just bear blank expressions.  The fact is, they don't really know what our breakup story is.  Who knows what that man spoke.  Seeing that he strokes his ego like it's his soulmate, he probably consoled his conscience by lying to everyone and possibly himself that I was the one to shatter his heart to peices, when really he was the one that took me for granted.

     Sometimes I think, maybe I should have tried harder to get close to those nicer girls.  Maybe they could have helped save our relationship.  But then, I was in the high tide of getting to know him.  Where was the time to get close to his friends too?  And I was so busy trying to keep him private, all to myself.  I didn't feel it was right to open up about him to others, except those very close to me.  But I know deep down, that none of this would have mattered.  He cut all forms of communication and he wasn't willing to listen to reason.  Either he lost control of his temper only to realize too late or he was just a player playing with his puppet(me).  And either way, he is just not a standard man and not at all deserving of a true lady.  And this very sentence is what makes me stronger everyday.  I am proud to be stronger without him rather than be merely satisfied with him.

THE MAN HURT THE BITCH...

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        There are so many questions running through my head. It's like my heart has a mind of its own and both my heart and mind are involved in a continuous debate.  I had no idea that it was possible to feel so many things all at once.
        I once read somewhere that the Pisces symbol represents an emotional turmoil.  So maybe it is because I was born to feel this way or maybe my situation would cause such a turmoil in any other person.  I don't know the reasoning behind it.  But I know that I feel stagnant in a whirlpool of my emotions.  I'm defenseless to them as I watch them mold my thoughts, my actions.
        My heart is yearning and trying so hard to conquer my mind's sense of logic.  But I'm refusing to let my heart rule over my mind.  I'm known to act by my emotions.  But that's exactly how I managed to wedge myself into the center of this whirlpool.  My feet are locked down and I'm watching the question marks whirl past me just to come back, bombarding me with more behind them.
       I guess it's true that nothing good ever lasts.  But my question is, was it ever good in the first place?  Did it just seem so nice because it was my first love?  And then there's the most dreadful question of them all... Was it all just an act?  Maybe it was just an act on his part and I was just his puppet in love.
       But how can anyone act so much?... Hit me so deep with their words?  And wouldn't I have realized sometime in the middle?  At least I should have gotten a doubt!  Or am I really that gullible?  Then comes the most dangerous of them all...  What if it wasn't an act and it meant as much to him as it did to me?  But if he truly loved me, then what's keeping him away?  Is his ego really more important to him than me, than this pain?  Or is his ego clouding his judgement; blocking his will to apologize?
       If he is truly that nice, sweet, decent guy that I got to know, then how could he just turn around and disapear from my life? ...No questions asked, let alone answered.  This is the question that leaves me clueless.  I stop and think; what is the logic behind hurting me with silent torture in retort to his painstaking family problem?  Is it immaturity or masochism that drove him to make that 180 degree turnover of his personality?
      The most deviant element of this whirlpool is the emotions amongst which these questions arise.  I now know that it is possible to feel happy and sad at the same time.  I'm happy because of the support my friends continue to give me.  And I know most of the people outside my bubble of support are looking at me like the bitch that hurt a man.  And I really don't mind at all.  Let me play the part because I'd rather be the bitch than be looked down at with pity; which would be the effect of the knowledge of the truth... The truth which is that it is really the other way around.  The man hurt the bitch.
      I think the main concept to this mosaic of many emotions is that I am truly happy because I know that I deserve much better.  But this happiness is made bittersweet by the desperate wish that he was the best.

My more recent painting