13 March, Sunday
Sometimes, I so badly want to blame someone, anyone but me for a few things in my life. For some situations I am stuck in. For who I am. Alas! It’s no one else but me who’s to blame, who’s at fault. I know that too. Yet again, every time I want my burden to be someone else’s. If only. Sigh.
I don’t know but I’m a very demure, shy person. Well, not at home though. At home, maybe I know that I’m safe, it’s family, so I’m okay, confident (if that’s the word), but outside I’m a scaredy-cat.
You know, when I was kid, I was bullied. It’s just vague memories. I can’t be too sure if that actually happened or it’s just some distorted memories.
But I do remember, for sure, this group of three girls who did actually bully me. Took my pens away, told the teacher I was a liar. I want to blame them, blame my kindergarten teacher for what I am today. Who I am. For what I’m not.
It’s just so much stuff just buried in me. Sometimes, I feel like running, keep running till I drop.
Someone very close to me, shouts at me, picks on me a lot. I want to blame that person for what I’m not today but it’s only me who’s to blame.
I want to be a better person. A more confident person. I just want to be enough.
Even though I’m in college now, a long time since those mean people, there’s not much that’s changed. It’s truly said, don’t be too nice or people take you for granted.