october

October 3, 2024

Lately, I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality, and it’s all because of these crushes that seem to be coming out of nowhere. It’s strange—sometimes I don’t even know if they’re really crushes. On one hand, it feels like I just admire them—the way they carry themselves, their confidence, or the things they’re passionate about. I’m drawn to their energy, but not necessarily in a romantic way. Yet there’s this other part of me that can’t shake the yearning. It’s like a tug-of-war between admiration and something deeper, something I’m struggling to make sense of.

And then there’s this one person. I used to not even glance at them or acknowledge their existence, but recently, something shifted in the air. I found them incredibly annoying before—everything they did used to get on my nerves. But now? Everything feels different, and I can’t figure out why. I don’t know what changed. Is it because they’re smart? Because they always seem to know the right thing to say? Or maybe because they’re tall, and somehow, that makes them stand out more? Or am I just bored, trying to fill a void? I keep asking myself these questions, but I never seem to get an answer.

And honestly? I don’t have anyone to talk to about this aside from people who don’t know them. For some reasons I've been having a hard time telling people I'm close to of what I truly feel and it’s so frustrating to keep all these emotions bottled up. I don’t know when these feelings even started. It’s like they’ve been simmering beneath the surface for days—maybe even longer—and I’m only just now admitting them to myself. And the moment I acknowledged it, everything came rushing to the forefront. Now I’m consumed by this obsession. I’m constantly thinking about them, and it’s starting to make me feel like I’m going crazy.

I catch myself looking for them all the time. When I walk into a room, my eyes instinctively scan for them, even if I know they won’t be there. It’s ridiculous. Every time I see them, I feel this weird rush of adrenaline, like I’m trying to pretend I don’t care, but deep down, I can’t help it. It’s like my mind is on autopilot, always searching for a glimpse of them, and it makes me feel so out of control. Why am I like this? It’s exhausting to always be on edge, waiting for them to show up, even if it’s just for a second.

I’ve even started listening to love songs again, which is insane because I refused to listen to these type of songs for months. I used to scoff at them, but now I’m putting them again on repeat, soaking in the lyrics as if they apply to me. It’s embarrassing to admit, but they hit differently now. I keep wondering if I’m just trying to make sense of my feelings through music, or if I’m actually falling for someone I used to find unbearable.

The worst part is the overthinking. Every small interaction, every glance, every word—my mind replays it over and over, dissecting every detail. I wonder if I missed something along the way. Was there always this weird tension between us, or am I imagining it? I’m constantly questioning myself, and it’s driving me insane. I can’t even tell if I’m making up this whole thing in my head or if there’s actually something there.

But even if there was something—let’s be real, I’d never dare to confess. I’m terrified they’d never see me in the same way, that they’d laugh it off or, worse, just not care. The thought of putting myself out there like that, just to be met with rejection is something I can’t handle. It’s almost easier to keep these feelings hidden even if it’s suffocating. I don’t think they’d ever like me back anyway. I mean, why would they? I’m over here driving myself crazy, while they probably haven’t even noticed me like that.

And then there’s the fear—what if I’m building up this image of them that isn’t real? What if this is just a phase, and in a few weeks, I’ll laugh at how ridiculous I’ve been acting? But at the same time, what if it’s not? What if there’s something deeper going on, and I’m just afraid to admit it to myself? That thought terrifies me. I’ve never been this confused over someone before, and it’s messing with me on a level I didn’t expect.

It’s such a mess. I go back and forth—one minute I convince myself that I don’t care, that this is just some weird phase I’m going through. The next, I’m completely wrapped up in thoughts of them, obsessing over the smallest things, trying to figure out if there’s more to this than I’m willing to acknowledge. It’s scary, not knowing how long these feelings will last or if they’ll ever lead anywhere. Am I just caught up in this emotional whirlwind, or am I actually developing feelings for someone I never expected to?

Honestly, I don’t know what’s worse—the confusion, the constant overthinking, or the possibility that this is real. I feel trapped in my own thoughts, spiraling deeper into this emotional chaos, and I don’t know how to escape it. I didn’t expect to end up here, of all places. But here I am—losing my mind over someone I didn’t even think I liked.

October 6, 2024 

This week has been incredibly rough. Ever since the month started, I’ve been pretending that everything is fine when, in reality, it feels like nothing is. My grades are slipping, and it’s starting to feel like a losing battle. I keep convincing myself that it's okay since it's only the first quarter – but deep down, I know it's not. I’m falling behind, and who am I to blame but myself? I haven’t put in the effort, and yet I expect things to magically fall into place. It’s frustrating. I feel stuck in this cycle of apathy and guilt, not knowing how to break out of it.

What frustrates me the most is how disappointed I am in myself. I had the chance to do better, and I let it slip. I could have tried harder, studied more, actually put my focus where it mattered. But I didn’t. Now, I sit here wishing I could go back, wishing I could’ve done something differently, but it’s too late for regrets. What’s the point of regretting when I can’t change anything? I’ve already missed the opportunity. Every moment I think about how things could’ve gone, it just digs this hole deeper, and I don’t know how to climb out of it.

There’s this constant nagging feeling that I’m wasting time—wasting my potential—and it makes me feel like I’m drowning in my own failures. I know I’m capable of more, yet I’m stuck in this loop of making excuses, putting things off, and avoiding the hard work. The worst part is, I know this, but I still don’t do anything about it. I keep falling into the same patterns, and it feels like I’ve lost control over my life.

I hate that I didn’t take my academics seriously from the start, and now I’m paying the price. Every test I do poorly on, every assignment I rush through just adds to this pile of regret. It feels like I’m watching myself fail from a distance, unable to stop it. And as much as I want to fix things, part of me is scared that it’s already too late. I don’t even know where to begin fixing the mess I’ve created.

Lately, I’ve been eating more than usual, and I hate myself for it. I hate how I keep eating, even when I know I should stop. I can feel myself gaining weight, and it makes me hate myself even more. I feel so out of control, like I can’t even manage something as simple as my own diet. Every time I eat, I know I’m doing something that will make me feel worse later, but in the moment, I just can’t stop. Food has become this weird source of comfort for me, even though it’s the very thing that’s making me feel worse about myself.

It’s like every time I feel down or stressed, I turn to food to fill this empty feeling inside me. For a few moments, eating makes me feel better, but afterward, the guilt and self-hatred come crashing down. I can literally feel my body changing, the extra weight, the heaviness in my clothes. It’s this constant reminder that I’ve lost control. The more I eat, the more I hate myself, but it’s this vicious cycle because I keep turning to food for comfort, even though it’s the very thing that’s making me miserable.

I wish I had the discipline to stop, to control myself, but I feel so weak. And every time I look in the mirror, it’s like I see all the bad decisions I’ve made reflected back at me. I hate how I look, I hate how I feel, but at the same time, I don’t know how to stop myself. It feels like I’m trapped in this pattern of self-sabotage. I’m so disappointed in myself for not being able to get my life together, for not even being able to control my own habits.

I wish I could stop myself, hit the pause button, and just reset everything. But life doesn’t work that way, and I’m left picking up the pieces of every bad decision I’ve made. There’s this overwhelming sense of defeat that’s hard to shake. Sometimes, I feel like I’m at war with myself—like there’s this constant internal battle between wanting to do better and not having the energy to even try.

I look in the mirror, and I don’t even recognize the person staring back at me. Every day feels the same: waking up with empty promises to do better, only to end the day hating myself for not being enough. No matter how much I try to convince myself that tomorrow will be different, it’s the same endless loop of self-doubt, disappointment, and frustration. I’m not even sure how long I can keep pretending that things are okay. How long can I keep up this act when I don’t even like who I’ve become?

There’s a voice in my head telling me I could do better, that I’m capable of more, but it feels drowned out by the louder voice that says, “What’s the point? You’ll fail anyway.” It’s exhausting—constantly feeling torn between wanting to be better and feeling like I’ll never live up to it. And at the end of the day, I’m left sitting in this pit of disappointment, wondering if things will ever get better. 

October 7, 2024

I don’t think I’m capable of being loved. It’s this deeply ingrained belief that I can’t seem to shake, no matter how hard I try. I watch other people fall in love, stay in love, and build something meaningful, but for me, it feels like I’m on the outside, looking in through a fogged-up window. Love has always felt distant—like something I can almost grasp, but never quite hold onto. Even when I’m in a relationship, it feels temporary, fragile, like it could disappear at any moment. There’s this overwhelming sense that ‘happily ever after’ is just a fairytale, something that happens for everyone else but me.

But it’s more than that. It’s not just the fear of love being temporary; it’s the feeling that no one could ever see me as someone worthy of love in the first place. I look at myself, my flaws, my insecurities, and I don’t understand how anyone could ever truly love me. I wonder if people look at me and see someone who is incomplete, someone who is too broken to be loved fully. It feels impossible to imagine that someone could see me, all the messiness and imperfections, and still choose to stay.

Sometimes, it feels like I’m invisible in that way—like I’m just not the kind of person someone could fall in love with. I don’t have that ‘something’ that draws people in. And if they do show interest, there’s always this part of me that doubts their intentions, that questions if they’re only with me out of convenience or if they’re just waiting for the right moment to leave. It’s like I can’t accept the idea that someone could genuinely care about me for who I am, and not for what I can offer them in the moment.

What makes it worse is that I’m still young, and part of me feels like it’s so unfair to be carrying these thoughts already. I know I have my whole life ahead of me, and everyone says I shouldn’t be thinking like this at my age, but I can’t help it. Even now, it feels like these doubts are a part of me, weighing me down before I’ve even had the chance to experience love the way others seem to. I see my friends, people my age, believing in love and enjoying the excitement of it, while I’m here, caught in this endless loop of doubt and fear. It’s like I’m missing out on something that should be beautiful, and that feels unfair too.

It’s exhausting, living with this constant fear of rejection, this belief that at any moment, the love I do have will fade away. I want to believe in love, I want to feel deserving of it, but there’s always this heavy, suffocating doubt that overshadows everything. It’s like a part of me is always bracing for impact, for the inevitable heartbreak, so I don’t let myself fully enjoy or believe in the love when it’s there. I convince myself that if I don’t get too attached, I won’t be hurt when it’s over—but in doing that, I never let myself fully experience the love I crave.

I definitely have issues—deep ones, ones that have shaped the way I view myself and my relationships. It feels like I’m constantly at war with myself, wanting love, yet pushing it away at the same time. Maybe it’s because I’ve been hurt before, or maybe it’s because I’ve never learned how to let people in without fearing that they’ll leave. I want to be vulnerable, to open up, but there’s this wall I’ve built around myself, and no matter how hard I try to break it down, it stands firm.

How do you let yourself be loved when you don’t even think you’re lovable? How do you open up to someone when you’ve convinced yourself that they’ll eventually leave? It feels like I’m caught in this never-ending cycle of wanting love but being too afraid to fully embrace it. I want to believe that someone out there could see me in a way I can’t see myself—that they could love me, despite all my flaws and insecurities. But right now, it feels impossible. And the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I’ll ever break free from these doubts, or if I’m destined to always question whether I’m worthy of love at all.

October 23, 2024

It's been a while. Classes are suspended so once again, I find myself lost in my thoughts. These past few weeks, I’ve been keeping up with school, submitting my homework on time, and even scoring decently. It’s like I’ve fallen into this routine that’s supposed to make me feel accomplished, but instead, it feels strangely empty. I haven’t missed a single class this month, which is a first for me. Yet, despite all of this, there’s this heaviness that I can’t shake off. I tell myself I’m enjoying school—maybe because I want to believe it—but deep down, I know I’m just going through the motions. 

To be honest, I feel like nothing has really changed. I still feel the same as I did last month. I’m buried under so many tasks, yet I feel stuck, unsure where to start. I’m lost, like I’m wandering in circles without direction. Recently, I went to Star City with my sister, hoping to break free from this feeling, to experience something that would make me feel alive again. It was fun, and for a brief moment, it distracted me from everything, but when it was over, I was back to feeling the way I always do—disconnected, aimless. It’s frustrating because I don’t know what more I can do to feel better. I have regrets, endless thoughts about what could’ve been, and they linger no matter how hard I try to push them away.

Lately, the feeling of being alone has been creeping in more intensely. Every time I go to school, I’m reminded that I don’t quite fit in. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I’m an outsider looking in, watching everyone else effortlessly socialize while I struggle to find my place. Sometimes, it feels like I do have friends, but at the same time, I don’t. I’m not blaming anyone but myself for feeling this way. I know this is something within me, something I can’t fully explain or expect others to understand. What else could they possibly do when this loneliness is something that lives inside of me? They can’t fix it, and honestly, I don’t know if I can either. 

Socializing is hard for me, and it always has been. I see other people talking, laughing, building connections so effortlessly, and I wonder what’s wrong with me. Why does it feel like no matter how hard I try, I’ll never quite be on the same wavelength as them? Every conversation feels like a reminder that I’m somehow less—that everyone else is smarter, more put together, and I’m just fumbling along, trying not to fall behind. Is this my inferiority complex kicking in? I don’t know, but I hate it. When can I just be genuinely happy? When will this feeling of inadequacy stop weighing me down?

Then there’s Seunghan’s departure from RIIZE, something I still haven’t fully processed. I’ve been trying to distract myself, to push the thoughts away, but they always find their way back. When he was announced to return, it felt like this huge wave of relief, like finally, something good was happening. It gave me hope that maybe life wasn’t so unfair after all. His return wasn’t just about him—it was about resilience, about hope, about believing that things could get better, even after everything had gone wrong. I clung to that hope, especially with the way the company has treated their idols in the past. It felt like, for once, things were changing.

But then everything crumbled. Seunghan left after so-called "fans" sent thousands of funeral wreaths, essentially telling him to die. It was heartbreaking. It felt like the world was reminding me, once again, that nothing ever truly changes. The helplessness I felt was overwhelming—watching this unfold from thousands of miles away, knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop it, couldn’t do anything to help. It broke me in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve never even met this person, and yet his departure hit me so hard that I cried, something I rarely do, even when it comes to my own problems. Maybe it’s because his situation felt symbolic of so many other things I’ve lost—or am afraid of losing.

And here I am, trying to move on, trying to find joy in the everyday, but nothing seems to stick. I go through the motions, doing everything I’m supposed to, yet I still feel this emptiness inside. I should be happy—I’m keeping up with school, I’m doing things that should make me feel accomplished—but I’m not. I’m just floating through my days, unable to shake the feeling that something important is missing.

I try to remind myself that I have people around me, that I’m not truly alone, but it’s hard to believe that when this loneliness feels like it’s buried deep inside me. Even when I’m surrounded by friends, there’s this constant feeling that I don’t really belong. It’s not their fault—they’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. It’s always been me. I don’t know how to let people in or how to be the person I wish I could be around them. I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember, and the worst part is, I don’t even know how to fix it.

It’s like I’m stuck in this loop—regret, loneliness, self-doubt. I replay moments in my head, wondering what I could’ve done differently, how things could’ve gone if I had just made better choices. But the past can’t be changed, and that reality hits me every time I try to move forward. I’m searching for something, some kind of answer or breakthrough that will make it all make sense, but all I find is more uncertainty.

And I don’t know how long I can keep living like this—caught between the hope that things will get better and the fear that they never will.

October 24, 2024

Classes have been suspended once again, and it’s all because of the rain. I absolutely hate it. The rain feels like it seeps into my bones just to drain whatever motivation I have left. The constant sound of water hitting the roof and the gray, heavy skies make it hard to even get out of bed. I’ve been waking up just to eat or pee ever since classes were suspended only to crawl back into my dark room and lie there, staring at the ceiling. It’s driving me insane, but at the same time, I don’t have the energy to do anything about it.

I know I have tons of responsibilities piling up—schoolwork, deadlines, chores—but the weather seems to suck the life out of me. It’s like the darkness outside mirrors how I feel inside: sluggish, heavy, stuck. My room feels like a cocoon, and as much as I hate it, I don’t want to leave it either. I just want to lie here, doing nothing, with my blankets pulled over me like a shield against the world.

And yet, at the back of my mind, there’s this gnawing anxiety. I know the longer I stay like this, the worse things will get. Deadlines are creeping up, and the weight of all these unfinished tasks makes me feel guilty. But instead of dealing with it, I let the rain lull me into this lazy, unproductive haze, as if I could just sleep away my responsibilities and somehow wake up without facing any consequences.

The truth is, part of me wishes I could just freeze time. Stay in bed forever, without worrying about what's coming next. But reality doesn’t work like that, and I know eventually the rain will stop, the skies will clear, and I’ll have to face the mess I’ve been avoiding. Until then, I’m just lying here, hoping I can push the world away for just a little longer.

I’ve been feeling more irritable, and my frustration as the eldest daughter has become increasingly apparent—or at least, that’s how it seems to me. I can’t fully understand why, but today I snapped at my sister for simply asking a question about school. It wasn’t fair to her, and it’s not that I don’t want to help; I genuinely care about her success. But it feels like I’ve taken on so much responsibility that I’m losing sight of my own needs. I’ve been prioritizing her academic progress over my own for too long, and it’s becoming suffocating.

I think what frustrates me even more is how long this has been going on. Ever since I was in elementary school, I’ve been the one expected to help her with her studies. It feels like an unspoken rule that I must always be the one to step in, while my parents sit back and watch. They’ve handed me responsibilities that should be theirs, and I’ve carried this burden without complaint for years. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve missed out on my own childhood while being the person who has to help her navigate hers.

Looking back to my first year of high school, I remember how isolating it was. I didn’t have anyone to lean on. I had to figure everything out on my own, all while feeling the weight of those expectations pressing down on me. Now, I’m helping my sister, but I can’t shake the feeling that I never received the same support. I’ve been carrying the load of responsibility since I was young, and it feels draining.

Being the eldest daughter comes with this constant pressure to be the strong one—the one everyone relies on to have it all figured out. I’m expected to maintain my composure for my sister and my parents, even when I’m struggling just as much as everyone else. But what happens when I feel like I can’t keep it together anymore? What happens when I need someone to step in for me?

I love my sister and genuinely want to see her thrive, but there are moments when I feel a deep sense of resentment. It’s unfair how she gets to live her life freely while I had to grow up so fast. I’ve watched her enjoy her childhood, experience the freedom to explore, and pursue her interests without the heavy weight of responsibility on her shoulders. Meanwhile, I’ve had to sacrifice my own desires and ambitions for the sake of guiding her, all while feeling like I’m missing out on the things that are supposed to be a part of my life at this age.

This dynamic leaves me feeling frustrated and worn out. I’m constantly putting her needs above my own, and there’s barely any room left for me to breathe. I wonder when I’ll be able to focus on my own growth without feeling guilty about it. It’s exhausting being the eldest daughter, the one expected to juggle it all—strength, reliability, and support—while no one seems to acknowledge the toll it takes on me.

At times, I can’t help but feel like I’m losing pieces of myself in this role. I’m tired of being the one who always has to hold everything together for everyone else. The weight of these expectations feels heavy, and I’m unsure how much longer I can keep doing this without it affecting me in ways I can’t even articulate. I just want to reclaim some of my own life, to live freely like my sister does, and to finally feel like I have the space to grow into who I’m meant to be without constantly feeling held back.

October 26, 2024

Another day tangled in my own thoughts, another round of trying to convince myself that I'm enough. I tell myself I’m pretty, and on good days, I almost believe it. But deep down, it feels like I'm just trying to mask the doubt that never seems to leave me. People say I’m beautiful, but every time, a part of me wonders if they’re saying it out of kindness or pity, if they see the same flaws I do. It’s like there’s a filter between me and the world—a veil that makes everything I see in the mirror look wrong, no matter what anyone else says.

When I look at photos of myself, I can’t help but pick apart every detail. I notice things that no one else probably would, but they stand out to me like flashing lights. I see imperfections that feel so glaring, so unforgivable, that they overshadow everything else. I wish I had the courage to change those things, but there’s also this fear of losing something real about myself. It’s exhausting to be trapped in a battle between wanting to love myself as I am and wanting to transform into someone I could finally feel proud of.

This feeling has settled over me like a shadow, something I can’t escape, no matter how hard I try. It’s strange—knowing that beauty shouldn’t define me, that I’m so much more than what’s on the outside. And yet, it’s hard not to feel like appearance matters. This self-doubt creeps into everything I do, into how I carry myself, even into my relationships. I wonder if I'll ever be enough for someone else, and I wonder if I'll ever be enough for myself.

Sometimes, I catch myself thinking that if I looked different, things would be easier. I imagine a version of myself that doesn’t hesitate, who isn’t afraid of how she might come across, who just *is.* I scroll through social media and see girls who seem effortlessly beautiful, who radiate confidence, and I feel that familiar twist in my stomach. I hate comparing myself, but it feels inevitable, like I’m trapped in this cycle of self-doubt, forever falling short.

At the end of the day, I just want to feel at home in my own skin. I want to look in the mirror and see someone I recognize—someone I’m proud of, without the constant barrage of criticism. Right now, though, it feels like a distant dream, something I can see but can never quite reach. I hold onto the hope that someday, maybe, I’ll be able to let go of this weight, that I’ll look at myself with kindness and acceptance instead of regret. But for now, I’m just trying to make peace with the reflection that I see, hoping that with time, it’ll be enough.

October 29, 2024

I’m sad, but I can’t quite explain why. There’s this constant heaviness, pressing down, making everything seem blurred and out of reach. Maybe it’s loneliness or something deeper I can’t name. This morning, just an hour before my exams, it all finally caught up with me. I broke down, unable to hold back tears, as though every feeling I’d been pushing aside rushed in, overwhelming me. I’m always distracting myself, suppressing the emotions that pile up, telling myself I’ll deal with them later. But "later" never comes until it’s too much.

And I feel guilty even saying this because, honestly, I don’t take these exams as seriously as I probably should. Part of me thinks I don’t even have the right to complain – like I’m somehow betraying myself, acting like I care when maybe I haven’t done enough. It’s this awful cycle of feeling worried, then guilty for worrying, then anxious because I can’t seem to get it together.

The exams themselves don’t scare me. What haunts me is the possibility of failing, the fear of facing results that could reflect that I’m not enough. It’s the fear of looking at myself and not liking what I see. And I can’t shake the thought that I might be losing myself along the way, without even realizing it. I’m slowly unraveling, watching my sense of who I am slip away, and I’m not sure what to hold onto anymore.

I feel like I should know what I’m doing by now, like I should have some direction. But I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I’m feeling, what I’m chasing, or if any of it even matters. And in that uncertainty, everything feels heavier, lonelier. It’s like I’m moving forward in this fog, unable to see the road ahead, losing sight of myself as I go.

October 30, 2024

I've been feeling like I might not be the friend I want to be. Lately, I've been wondering if I come across as too self-centered, and it makes me worry that I might be unintentionally taking more than I’m giving in these relationships. I don’t want them to feel like I don’t care about what they’re going through or that I’m not there for them. I value my friends so much, and I want them to know that. Maybe it’s time I focus more on listening and being fully present for them, showing up in ways that make them feel appreciated and understood. I just hope they know I’m trying, and I’ll work to be better for them.

October 31, 2024

I can't fucking stand this anymore. Every single day, it’s just screaming and shouting, like they live to tear each other down. Why can’t they just shut up for once? It’s like they’re hell-bent on ruining every bit of peace I try to hold onto. I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it's tearing me apart silently. I feel like I’m drowning in their problems, forced to play this twisted waiting game where I sit there, praying for it to stop. Sometimes I think it would be better for my dad to leave already but then I remember—if he’s gone, it all falls on me. All her rage, all her bitterness, and I’d be left to soak it all up alone. I’m sick of being trapped in their mess, stuck in a house that feels like a war zone. I want out. I want a life that’s mine without their constant poison in the background but every time I think of leaving, reality hits. I can’t. And that’s the worst part. It feels like I’ll be chained to this misery forever.