clarity.

previously in this blog, i talked about moments in your life that remind you of who you are and bring you down to reality. now, i want to talk about these moments in the sense that they instead bring you up to reality. these moments of clarification make you feel grateful for realizing what you realized before getting too ahead of yourself.

recently, i had a moment like this with a friend who i consider as one of my best friends. i had put so much into the friendship that i expected so much out of her, fully knowing that she was not as invested as i was. she would say things to me that are inexplicably rude, which i laughed off of in a good-hearted manner, but after a while, cutting jokes simply are insults and laughing along with them is a degradation of your sense of self. she was giving me an endured silent treatment as i had apparently done something she abhorred and i tried to talk to her today, but she turned the other way, prompting me to run after her. while i was running, i had a reality check. who the fuck was i? was this really me, with no shame in the world, RUNNING after people who could give less of a fuck about me? what had i done to myself? how little did i begin to value myself to even be in a situation like this? at that moment, i decided i could not let this go on anymore; i stopped chasing her and left her alone, not talking to her for the rest of the day – i told our mutual best friend/her roommate that i wasn’t really looking to talk to her as a heads up. it may sound like i have something against her, but i truly, sincerely do not. she is still one of my best friends. she didn’t go against me or do anything herself – she was just being herself. i, on the other hand, should’ve known better about myself. i know i am the type of person to go all out for other people, for events, for parties, for work assignments that i am passionate about – to the point that my self-worth diminishes astronomically. i end up fucking things up for myself because i believe in others too much, i love others too much, & i invest in everything except myself.

my mom always used to tell me that i shouldn’t let people jest with me and that i should be offended easily in public but not so with my immediate family; to this, i rolled my eyes and pinned it on my mom’s archaic, conservative views from immigrating to the US. but my mom was right – in allowing people to joke with me and about me, i have made who i am a joke when i know for fucking sure, that the things i’ve been through and the hardships i’ve endured don’t make me a fucking joke. not for a fucking second.