log.

It's my birth month! I turned twenty eight a couple of weeks ago.

If you read my march blog entries last year you'll know that I'm always stupidly anxious about my birthdays. I always anticipate that nobody will have fun if I plan anything, and I'm always extremely broke the next month because I insist on paying for everything (filipino style), both because I genuinely want to treat my loved ones and if anyone doesn't enjoy themselves, at least they didn't have to pay for it.

I actually didn't want to do anything because of all of my negative feelings towards edging ever so close to the three zero, but somehow I ended up having around 2 weeks of celebrating with groups of friends and family. Though I was nervous and felt overwhelmed at first, everything went well. My boyfriend planned a surprise lunch/party with my closest friends (which wasn't so much a surprise since he ended up telling me to ease my anxieties...I'm such a nightmare), my colleagues got me cake and treated me to dinner & drinks, and I got to catch up with a ton of friends who I hadn't seen in a long time. All in all, I'm so moved that people genuinely want to celebrate my life with me. My neurotic-self is always questioning whether or not the people I love the most in this world actually reciprocate my feelings or if they're just putting up with me. I know there's so much about me to dislike, so much that I could do better, and I'm trying every day to evolve into someone I can smile at when I look in the mirror. I haven't been successful yet, but I'm so grateful for everyone who has stuck around. I felt very loved and wish to give that back to them tenfold.

The only thing that's a bummer is the inevitable down-period I feel right after any outing or social interaction in general. I'm sure a lot of people can relate, but I hate that I can never experience fun without analysing my behaviour once it ends and I'm alone. Was I too loud? Did I interrupt them? Was I embarrassing to be around? Did I say something strange that offended them? Since I went out after work for almost 2 weeks straight, I was plunged into anxious and pathetic thoughts every single one of those nights. In the moment, these feelings come and go since I try my very best just to be present and to not overthink. Enjoying myself is effortless when it comes to the people I'm closest with, but with others, I find myself being overly self-conscious every time I do something. Either way, close friends or not, I will always spend time in bed reviewing the evening and mentally hitting myself for being an embarrassment. I wish I could stop.

March is coming to a close and it feels like it has lasted forever. I'm typing this at work guilt-free because I felt humiliated after speaking with my boss a few hours ago. I know I'm always saying that I need to find a new job, but genuinely I think that talk was just what I needed to give me that push. Every employee knows that they're not appreciated at work, and no matter how many times the company is praised for being "like a family", we all know it's a lie and that we're disposable. I've given my all to this company even with my pitiful salary. I've put up with doing two jobs for the price of one because my colleague comes in 3 hours late every day. I've never once pushed for a pay-rise even though I was entitled to it. The only thing I've brought up were the discrepancies between my payslips and the actual amount that goes into my account every month. Every time I've asked (and I've lost count) I was told it would be dealt with and yet nothing was ever done. Today I was yelled at because if I "had a problem" I should've gone to them and not to my colleague who told them I've been underpaid for 2 years. One, I did not ask her to raise this with them, she did that of her own volition because she kindly wanted to help both myself and the company. Two, I did go to them. Many times. And nothing changed. I guess it was my fault for putting up with it for so long, but I think I'm finally ready to say goodbye.

Though I'm ending the month on a sad note, I'm so grateful for everyone who is still with me. Let's hope 2023 is the year I finally get a new job (and become a better person).

I hope you're all having a good start to the year.

Last night I revived my old iPhone 4S because my sister reminded me of a now defunct rhythm game we used to play on it. This phone has been through it all. It survived being dunked in water and falls from high platforms yet it still works even after all these years. (Maybe I should find my old brick phones from the early 2000s?)

I went through old text messages from over 5 years ago and ended up scrolling until four in the morning. Currently typing this entry at work extremely sleep deprived but I refuse to become reliant on coffee. I've never needed it in my almost 28 years of existence so I don't want to start now. (Though I will admit it has helped me get through January immensely...maybe it's already begun...)

Reading old text messages is like going through old blog posts. There were so many that made me laugh because of how inconsequential some of my problems were (nothing has changed). It was also nice to go through messages from people I'm no longer in contact with. At some point we were friends, sometimes even best friends, and though the world we created together has now gone somewhere that I don't know of, it's sweet to think there are records of it in texts, in photos, in memory.

There's one particular friend who I can't help but think about every so often even though our parting happened years ago now. Nothing particularly dramatic occurred between us. We didn't have an open conversation terminating our relationship, and I don't think there are any ill feelings lingering...but whenever I think about her I feel like such a fool for how much it still stings. It's pathetic, especially when there's confirmation that the other party is not and never will be in pain because you're no longer in their life.

That confirmation was a screenshot of a conversation she had with another friend. "We were never close," she said, and I can never get it together when I think about that sentence. Every time I opened up because she felt so safe, every time we consoled each other, every genuine laugh at the back of the bus, every secret shared, every warm hug, every letter, every present and essays in birthday cards. They didn't mean anything, because we were never close to begin with.

Of course, when I think rationally about that situation now, it's natural for people to outgrow you, and maybe sharing all those aforementioned experiences doesn't necessarily mean you know somebody. Perhaps to her, I was just somebody to hang out with casually, but for me, she was someone I genuinely loved and wanted to keep. A lot of time has passed, but embarrassingly I can still feel that same humiliation and hurt.

Guess my problems are still inconsequential at 27 years old, huh? :)

Most of my compulsion to write unfortunately occurs at work when I should be looking at dull spreadsheets and social media analytics instead. I'm lucky to work in an environment with minimal micromanagement (as long as I get everything done when it's supposed to it's all good) but I wonder if I've sacrificed feeling fulfilled and challenged at work as a result.

I've been feeling a myriad of emotions this month. I'm restless, I'm apathetic, overwhelmed, apprehensive. January is always a difficult month for me, and the low temperatures and an empty bank account due to the holidays don't help. It's so grey and I'm so worn down.

I think I put too much pressure on myself with wanting to create a new layout every month for my blog so I'll just keep it simple and have one. I still kind of like this layout I made for May so i'll keep it until I design something better.