Giving up.

So I haven't blogged for some time and for a longer time, I haven't written in my journal. Somehow I feel I should do justice to my un-expressed thoughts and feelings and just write (type) without paying any heed to flow or structure. I shall try.

It sucks really. Life, I mean. And since I hadn't changed, hadn't moved on, I want to give up. Yet, giving up isn't really an option for me. At least, outwardly, it isn't. Inwardly, I'm one big sigh.
I haven't grown a bit. I'm beginning to acknowledge that I'm still stuck somewhere in between the age of 12 and 16. Well, that's not right really, because I think I'm living backwards. I believe that the way I’m living now, is what I should have been like back then. Back then, I think I was what I should be now. Relatively, of course.
Someone was saying about our ‘true self’ and that it shouldn’t change. What changes is our environment and how we respond to it. Well then, who am I?
I seriously shouldn’t be struggling about my identity. I should have my “identity in Christ” right?
But still, who am I? Every thought and feeling that pops up in my mind should come from me and me alone right? So, if I had this mean thought about something or someone, but then I also stop myself from expressing it because that’s just wrong and mean; then, these two opposing events come from me and me alone? So am I really mean, or am I not?
The real problem is that I think I am really a bad person. I’ve become so much more negative and cynical and just mean over the years. More bold in my meanness. Not to a catastrophic level, though (or at least I hope not). And I don’t seem to be succeeding in changing.
I can’t seem to be able to live with hope. I can’t stay hopeful for long. I’ve come to believe that I simply can’t do it. It’s just not me to be hopeful. And that really suck. Just thinking about having to live the rest of my years fighting to be hopeful is tiring. It makes me want to give up altogether.
I know, that’s not a fair statement, because everyone goes through that. After all, life on earth still has the presence of sin. We all have to keep fighting to glorify God in spite of the sin around us. Furthermore, Christ has saved us and He has conquered sin and death.
So that’s all good, but the fact remains that I hadn’t moved on, hadn’t changed.

I made the mistake of thinking that I could readily confide in these certain people. Today I discovered that it’s not that they were really open and receiving; it’s because I just wanted to talk to someone. There are few that I can openly confide to and trust that a listening ear and understanding heart are there. But these certain people, they are listening alright, but they do not understand. There is like a gap; they are up there, and I’m down below. Maybe I’m expecting too much? But it’s true isn’t it, that many of us listen, yet we do not hear. We don’t try to understand our friend’s problems yet we just want to offer solutions quick. We just want to talk about ourselves, with a “my problem is bigger than yours, pity me” kind of attitude. Let’s face it, we just want to talk about ourselves.
When I say I take up a lot of mental energy in doing things, I’m serious. That’s because I’m struggling to behave in a certain way. I’m struggling to be good. I’m struggling to “be myself”, whatever “myself” means. I’m struggling to be good, in spite of the meanness in me. I’m struggling to be nice and warm and smiley, because we know that it’s just not nice to be too quiet and stone-faced (it rubs off on people as arrogant and anti-social and bad manners). I’m struggling to be sociable, even though I do better alone.
I’m struggling to find myself. Who am I? Who am I to you? Is that who I really am? I’d hate to tell you, friends, but the Hozanna you know may be a fake. Yikes!

Well, if I don’t know who I am, maybe I should at least have an idea of who I want to be? I do. I know the type of person I want to be. But I hadn’t moved on to becoming that person either. So I feel hopeless, again, and disappointed.

For all that I have said, I know what people will say if I had shared these thoughts with them. “You’re just thinking too much la.” And then the conversation is as good as ended. Maybe they’re right. Then I’d have ascertained one thing about myself: that I am a person who thinks too much. That’d be “me”. Yay.

In fact, “thinking too much” is the problem. It’s confusing me. Too confusing to even pen down what that problem really is about. It just confuses who I am. It’s like I’m deceiving myself. Is that even possible?

So in order to do that justice I mentioned, I’m not going to review all that I’ve said and edit stuff as I usually do. And I think I might have just proven my point that I’m living backwards. I’m sure I sound like an irrational teenager, which, no offense intended to all irrational teenagers out there, disgusts me. I’m 22, dammit!

Who am I? Is that even a valid question? Is that an important question? Does it matter at all?

Well, if I don’t figure everything out within the next 4 days, then I’d better decide on who I want to be for the 5 days in camp. Let’s see...