hollablaack:

kissme-in-spirit-bb:

hangukaddict:

littleboyanonymous:

hellosarang:

And proud of it.

14 thousand+ bitches! Where U all At? 

(Source: aenmali)

PROLOGUE:

Here it is.

As of April 21, 2012, I graduated from college with the degree of BS Psychology.

I am now considered as part of the ever-growing bubble of people termed as “unemployed.”

But that is the least of my concerns. 

At least, for now.

Right now, I feel out of sorts. 

Like I should feel something, but I’m feeling something else entirely.

I’m really, REALLY happy that I graduated. I mean, I was wishing, hoping, praying that me and my thesis partner would make it before the day of the graduation… and we did.

But, I can’t help but feel really, REALLY depressed.

Facebook is bad for me, I guess.

I think this started last week, or a week before that.

I’ve been feeling out of place for awhile, but I’ve always managed to push that feeling in the back of my mind ever since.

However, I think this final week as a student was the last straw.

Being busy with the thesis, and trying to get a sense of control over everything was stressful, that I knew that there’s a possibility that I’ll snap easily, so I tried to lay low for awhile.

Or maybe it was just the hormones (it was that time of the month).

Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t helping.

Came graduation practice, we finally had a chance to “bond” with our teacher (and adviser) who we treated like a god; he is one of the smartest, most mysterious, most idealistic, and the coolest professor we’ve ever known, and he was actually joining us in our pre-graduation pics (or candid shots during the rehearsal).

Jealousy.

I was jealous because he was so open and candid to most of my classmates, but he was always so quiet and so formal to me.

Sure, I knew partly that it was my fault since I never opened up to him, but, at that moment, and previous moments where he was so close to my classmates to the point that they know how many cats he have at home (I’m exaggerating here, of course), jealousy rears its ugly head.

I always try (and I think I managed) to cover it up, so it won’t be awkward, but I felt it was unfair at the time.

Jealousy.

Came graduation day, I felt like it wasn’t the right time.

I didn’t feel like myself.

I felt like someone else (with the help of that dress and killer shoes), but not the good kind.

I was really uncomfortable.

When we marched, my “partner” (since we walked in two lines) was walking way faster, since he was wearing comfortable shoes, and I tried to catch up (I was wearing freaking 5 inches! 5 INCHES!) that I wasn’t looking at anyone or anything except the floor.

And I was sweating my brains out.

And when it was time for the awarding of diplomas, I wished I was swallowed whole (or that I should’ve worn a summer dress and flats instead).

I was shaking when we got in line (I think I was getting tired), and when my name was called, and I got up on the stage, I kinda embarrassed myself.

The shoes were slightly heavy, and I was weak, so it my left shoe kinda skidded on the stage, producing a somewhat piercing noise.

And it was QUIET.

It happened right in front of our ever-gorgeous university president, dean and ever-lovable professor.

And I think I heard laughter.

So I awkwardly smiled, received the diploma (which was really a piece of paper) with shaking hands, and looked at the ground for the rest of walk to my seat.

The horror.

Jealousy. 

They all had pictures to remember that day, while I got none, since me and my mother were arguing at the time.

Once I access my account and scroll through the news feed, that’s all I see.

People posting their grad pics; posting status about how their four or five years in college and what they’ve learned or whatever; congratulatory messages to classmates, or being congratulated by others.

While poor ole’ me = Zero. Nada. Zilch.

So I have to admit; it’s hard.

It’s hard to feel happy for others when I’m not even happy myself.

It’s hard when you think you’ve moved on, but seeing a picture is a painful reminder of you being stuck in the past, rubbing it in your face.

It makes me feel like people have changed for the better, have moved on, have adjusted to life, while you’re still you.

You try so hard to be yourself, while at the same time you’re trying to please others, because if you stay true to yourself, people will find you completely different and stay away from you completely.

And even if you’ve convinced yourself that you’re used to the loneliness, deep down, you know that you’re scared to be alone and be an outcast again… because it hurts.

So much (And to think I’m a Psychology grad).

I’m currently telling myself that I should have no regrets, that everything happens for a reason.

Easier said than done.

But I’ll try.

I’ll look back; remember everything that happened during those four years, and try to discover what I can learn from each moment.

Then maybe, MAYBE, I could slowly let go.

And maybe even be happy for a really long time.