I observe people...and come to a realisation about myself too sometimes and I have been told that writing these stuff about my own self is nice. In a way, it also helps me not to lose sight of who I am, I guess.

• My first love is art. My second is art in the form of writing.
• I am a soft hearted person, an empath through and through which I suspect I got from my dear mother. I also know that I am not a forgiving person. And that's how I found out that you can be soft and unforgiving at the same time. Unfortunately, that part of myself is something that was born much, much later. I wonder what could be the reason?
• In this insignificant life of mine, I have my own fair share of shitty people that I have met. I have a pretty long list of people I found unpleasant but there's a short list of people I hate with my entire existence. To be precise, there are only three people in it. Now think about it. What could these people possibly have done to make someone who does not forgive easily to have a long list of people they dislike yet only three that makes them burn with hatred?
• I wish so badly for a therapist. a psychologist. anyone who can help me sort out everything that is myself. Because I am a jumbled mess with too many unsorted thoughts that keep swirling and swirling inside my head, uncontrollable, wild and troubling emotions and feelings in my chest that can be hard to pick apart. All of these have been sitting and festering in me for years with no outlets. Silent on the outside, a storm inside. Maybe I yearn to be heard. I do know that I need help. I try my best to ground myself every time I know I am losing my grip, barely able to save myself from falling into something I cannot return from. Regret and fear of being even more alone than I already am is what anchored me down. It's not healthy, but it is something. I know the root of my issue but I do not know how to pick them apart. I know very well I cannot solve them on my own. Sometimes everything is too much, enough to overwhelm me that I feel uncomfortable in my own skin and even breathing feels like a chore. I can't always tell what triggers it. Someday I just wake up and immediately know that I will have to fight to feel alive today. Someday I wake up already feeling close to the edge. Those are the days where my body would still move to get works done, but my words are limited. I hate that some people think I'm just in a foul mood when it's so much more complex than just one emotion that can be named. Physically present and still aware, but my mind is elsewhere entirely. Sometimes I wish I could detach myself completely from the rest of the world. But I know there's nobody to catch me if I fall. Maybe that's what I need. To have someone who can watch my back for me when I let go of control. To rest and be taken care of while I try to be okay again.