Second year of engineering starts in a week. I'm a new me. Actually, I'm always maturing. I'm never a single definition of "me" for more than a year. That should be a good thing, I think.
I don't claim to understand myself, for it is impossible to do so. If one lives a dynamic lifestyle, sprouting some "philosophical" bullshit months ago and currently resents that same bullshit, then why bother to even try and comprehend him/herself?
My life has been split into several periods; a maturation process. Every time I advanced to a new period, I thought that I have discovered "myself"; I didn't.
This is my life in words.
Pre-2011
Life was overly simple. Problems did not bother me. The reason was disappointing. I was simply too innocent, unexposed to the sufferings of the world. I was in a subconscious state of denial. I only focused on the present, not the past nor the future. There were no plans other than the plans of others, and to play video games.
However, I didn't deem myself a puppet back then, for I wasn't controlled; I was simply offered plans which I didn't find the need to reason with, neither did I need to seek any form of motivation other than video games.
Entering high school in 2008 didn't change me one bit; not yet. I was exposed to teenage life when I still had the mind of a child. Yet, I never left the subconscious state of denial, simply because I did not know it existed. It's called "subconscious" for a reason.
Looming Fantasy (2011-2012)
If I were to spit out only one reason why poetry changed my life, it's because of the fact that it is a gateway to my subconscious.
I always took pride in my English proficiency. My first recorded poem was the for sake of impressing my friends. An innocent, happy-go-lucky kid suddenly worrying about people's impressions of him? Yes, it was due to the stupid issues of teenage love. Before, no damns were given when people picked on me. After September 2011, I started thinking. That's a huge insult to myself. It's like I never even had a single thought pre-2011. I was simply happy. I lived in my own world.
It's pretty comforting when you do not give a damn about judgement. That's a sign of maturity... really? No, it was just teenage anxiety, you see. Again, no. I'm just finding excuses to make my past self look less miserable.
It's when I started blogging again in 2011 that I realized my apparent obsession with fantasy. A state of denial is a fantasy, for one is denying reality itself. But it wasn't just petty denial anymore, it evolved into creating fictional scenarios and spending dangerous amounts of time fantasizing and daydreaming. Suddenly, I was desperate to be better, to look better, to act better, to be a better me.
I doubted myself. Everyone was better than me. I wrote my first chapter-based story in early 2012. Tyrant Eliza. It made me realize how... violent my fantasy was.
A fantasy that loomed over me, threatening to consume me if I were a tad bit careless. It was the title of this blog back then. Since my poems and stories all originate from the subconscious, it is of no wonder that I have weird blog titles.
So, wanting to be a better me, huh? So... maybe I should actually try to change? Well, I didn't. I kept lamenting and daydreaming and didn't do shit in trying to improve myself.
So came a friend of mine who was even better than me in literature. My supposedly "perfect" poetry was criticized mainly for being too typical. It's true; I often stuck with simple, lazy, overused rhyming patterns and similar themes. Also a bad flow.
Shivering Shadows (2012)
So an experiment turned out to be a symptom of a disease. A disease of the soul. A fluctuation between uncertainty and absolute confidence.
I ventured further into the world of poetry, preferring fleshed-out metaphors over usual rhymes. Ignoring several grammatical errors, it's still one of my best poems to date (I seriously wonder how I came up with that),
Metaphors are substitutes for reality. I didn't know how to express my condition to people, so I did it through poetry.
I believe that my fear of judgement during this period was even worse than the last, to the point that I started to develop a dark side. The reason? Yes, states of denials.
Instead of daydreaming so much, I started active denying. The optimism associated with the last period is gone. Bye dreams! Hello cold, cruel reality.
No, no hello. I subconsciously stored the pressures of reality somewhere in me, and it formed Shadow Vegas. It was an amalgamation of all my fears. I feared my fears. And since reality was Shadow Vegas, I basically feared myself.
So came three more poems. This was the most despicable, most miserable period. I no longer subconsciously denied events, but I did it consciously. I channeled my subconscious into exploring Shadow Vegas. I was afraid of facing it in reality, but through poetry? Yes, I could. Though I just recently discovered that my poems during the "Shivering Shadows" period gradually steered towards the theme of insanity. Every. Single. Word. Of. Society. Scarred. Me.
It was also during this period where society's judgement became harsher. My dark side was stronger. I was losing control.
The last few weeks of high school turned this around. I managed to convince myself that society's judgement no longer mattered, as I wouldn't be seeing the cruelest faces after the year ends. This motivated me to open up. I started talking to people more. I started being happier, albeit slightly. Poems became cheerier. Well, not exactly, but those two focused less on Shadow Vegas and more about the balance between the conscious and subconscious.
It was the final exam. There can never be judgement from that same society after that, at least, not face-to-face. My dark side was appeased. Slowly, it started to relax, while I started to accept it. My fear ended there.
I wanted a new life.
Wandering into the Sunset (2013)
New life? No, it wasn't that simple. Where do I start?
The lack of an insatiable lust for fantasies, coupled with the acceptance of my dark side, left me lost. So lost. I didn't have goals. I enrolled in college for the sake of enrolling in college.
Hey, a new environment; it's gonna be fun!
I tried to be friendly. I tried to be nice. I wished classmates hello. I greeted teachers with a smile. I made new friends. I met amazing people.
Well, this is precisely why you should never become too kind after emerging victorious from a battle with fears (of society). There are people that will take advantage of you. Fortunately, it was nothing too serious. Yet, it served as a warning.
I felt emptier.
And suddenly, I found myself a girlfriend. The emptiness quickly vanquished.
Having a girl who loves you for who you are does great things to your heart. For one, you don't need to excessively worry about people's opinions about you. Judgement was no longer a huge issue. I didn't need to force myself to impress people.
It was for a moment that everything went right.
Yet, the wanderer within me was weak; he was easily influenced by the past; by society. Old problems came to haunt me once again, only it was in a different form. It was a false perception of judgement; believing that people secretly disliked you even though you barely knew them. It was no longer the fear of open judgement; it was the fear of opinions.
So the wanderer had to bid goodbye. His time wasn't up yet, but exploration was a foreign concept. The path to sunset is never an unobstructed one, and I was too timid to pursue the unknown.
But what caused this? The past. The fear of judgement. And what caused the fear of judgement? The future. The thought that people will resent you.
There's so much to learn about time. Rather than wander into the sunset, I should be wandering through time.
Transition Through Time (2013)
The past was spooky. The future is spookier. There was no present. It was the reason I became lost.
There were times where I felt so disconnected from the world. It was as if I wasn't myself (and no that's not an exaggeration). This state of disconnection is what I call "transitions". It's a pretty trippy concept, usually a result of a highly specific sequence of events happening at the wrong (or right?) time. And no, that's not even an official term or whatever. I just have a weird mind.
All these transitions inspired me to delve into the cold, dark world of time itself. I started observing. I started noticing. I accepted Shadow Vegas in the past without understanding him. A lack of understanding towards one's dark side will lead to consequences. This very period had me dealing with those consequences from the past and future.
I started doing research. I started questioning. I suspected myself of having bipolar disorder, and I was damn sure of it. I thought that I understood. I thought that everything was beyond my control. And I felt happy. I embraced it. Soon enough, I used this as an excuse for everything I've done and everyone I've hurt.
Suddenly, all the past problems and future doubts vanished. I was gleeful. I couldn't be blamed for anything. I was invincible.
A state of denial yet again.
It wasn't about fantasizing or rejecting events. It was about giving excuses. To reason with my wrongdoings. To reason with my actions. I have solved the riddle of life.
If that were true then this post should have ended here.
It wasn't bipolar disorder. It wasn't anything even remotely close to it. It was simply a misunderstood dark side. It's like showering one's own children with gifts and toys when all they wanted was their parents' love.
Yet, I stuck to this excuse and continued observing life through my distorted, miserable lens. I tried my best. But life was still a riddle.
My dark side wasn't satisfied. My wanderer wasn't satisfied. I thought I knew everything about humanity. Such a false sense of satisfaction. Excuses!
So it's pretty depressing when I've written one of my saddest poems on Christmas. Also the remake of Tyrant Eliza was so gruesome and disgusting that most of those who read it didn't get past the first chapter. All these symbolized my blackening heart. I had to do something.
I went to Japan on the following year (2014). I had an epiphany.
Flames of a Sordid Winter (2014)
There must be something else that I've missed. Was Shadow Vegas lonely? No, he had friends. Who were those friends? Where did they come from?
I was actually straying further away from true comprehension of life, but I didn't know. I found more excuses. This led me to conceptualize White de'Leon, the Frost Lord.
Now, sometime during the year 2009, I had ideas for a story called Reincarnation. It started off as a boy going to hell and back, with some cliche romance and evil forces added in, but it soon evolved into a war between three opposing factions, and much later I came up with five (!!) sequels to a story I've never had any progress on.
So I had this whole fantasy world set up in my mind, should I start writing? I tried to, but then I realized that this world kept evolving, with characters continuously developing and new plot twists scattered about. The world became realer.
Shadow Vegas is the main character. So who are his friends?
Japan is a cold place (duh). I came up with a new story while vacationing there. Whereas Tyrant Eliza expanded on the (canonical) history of the fictional Shadow Vegas, Flames of a Sordid Winter illustrated the egoistic life of White de'Leon who has zero fucks to give.
It was during then when I associated personalities to individual characters; insanity for Shadow Vegas, apathy for White de'Leon. It's a pretty neat symbolism. Shadow Vegas dealt with darkness; White de'Leon dealt with ice.
So this personality was an apathetic one. Good, because I realized that I needed to stop giving too many damns about insignificant issues. I hid behind the facade of White de'Leon. I started to change how I acted, how I treated people, how I was being defined by others.
A cycle, you see? Back to pre-2011 when I led a carefree life. Life was so peaceful as White de'Leon, eh? It eventually became a subconscious excuse to just not give a fuck about anything in general. I quickly became somewhat of a bad friend, I think. But I loved it, because I wasn't me, I was White de'Leon.
Flames of a Sordid Winter was supposedly the title for the story I planned out during my Japan trip. It was meant to be pretty long, but I've only written three short "previews". I no longer had motivation. There was only one reason:
Hey, this personality thing is fun, this is who I truly am!
Reincarnation. (2014)
I had a side of insanity and a side of apathy. There are too many interesting characters in the world of Reincarnation (some are still developing even till this day).
Another fucking cycle.
I thought I've left my fantasy behind in late 2011, and have dealt with my dark side in 2012. But it was just so mesmerizing. To live in a fantasy world without regards to reality. It was splendid!
There was hypocrisy in the form of the mad doctor-engineer Rammer Strobe. There was simplicity in the form of the immortal Slitzh Manseus. So there were four personalities. I felt happy and safe. They sheltered me.
The four personalities defined everything I did. If I felt stressed out, apathy kicked in. If that didn't work then I reminded myself of the simplicity of life. If my actions didn't match my opinions then I accepted myself as a hypocrite. If I just couldn't handle all that then I found peace in the realms of insanity.
But life did not improve (obviously). My obsession with personalities and fantasies led me to conceive completely new characters. There was tyranny in the form of the cruel, bloodthirsty king Kishi Minazuki; hostility in the form of the rebel Thebel Azara; timidity in the form of the powerful but cowardly Pascal de'Ponte Grisselyn.
So there were seven of them. I was even more immersed in the world of Reincarnation. I felt that I belonged there. It was a place of retreat from a screwed-up reality.
Suddenly, a measly attempt to explore the dark side ballooned into a full-scale war between reality and fantasy. Yet, I liked it. I liked it so much that I deemed it to be the reincarnation of me. Every line in the poem ended with the past two years worth of post titles. I felt that my entire life has led me to that moment. I finally understood life.
Even the theme of this section of life is named "Reincarnation." with a period. I felt that my observations have ended. I was on the right path. Life was truly, and simply, the balance between reality and fantasy.
... No, wait.
Balance? But creating fantastical personalities that affected the "real" me isn't a form of balance. There's a huge world somewhere in my head and here I am, just an individual. Powerless.
So I continued my observations. There must be something else. It all started with an experience of focusing on the present. The poem had no metaphorical meaning; it was simply a description of my worktable at that point of time.
Ah, this is new.
Living in a fantasy is equivalent to daydreaming about a past that never happened, or a future that hopefully will happen. What I didn't know was that both the past and future affect the present, and the present affects the past and future. To deal with the issues of time, one must focus on the present.
The "Reincarnation." era had to end, and so must the "Transition Through Time" saga. I was at the peak of my observations; there were no roads left. I had to fall back down and approach life from a different angle.
What have I done wrong? What defines a wrongdoing? How should I make my life right? I had to embrace sins. I had to acknowledge them. Insatiable need for consumption and indulgence. Excessive sexual desires. Jealousy. Hatred and hostility. Laziness and lack of motivation. Addiction to gains. However, there is one sin that is the hardest to embrace. It is simply too difficult. Everyone has it somewhere inside. If the conscious does not value it, then the subconscious will. The cause of all wrongdoings. The obstacle to all paths. The sole roadblock to excellence. The reason behind all the excuses, all the states of denials, all the fantasies and all the strayed paths.
Artistic Impression (2015)
I stopped caring about personalities. Yes, I still acknowledge them, but they can never take control of my life. It is all about me now. I have many personalities, but the good balances the bad, so I am still me.
There is no longer reality or fantasy. There is only me. I am reality and I am fantasy. And the only way to ensure that is to simply live in the fucking present. Yes, the same fucking concept I had pre-2011. Another fucking cycle, but it's a good fucking cycle.
I no longer want to lose "me". Never will I give in to society to lose who I truly am. I will explore and understand "me"; not the dark side; not conceptualized characters; not even others.
I delved into foreign lands in the past, but I never once stopped and ask myself, "Where's me?"
This is not the end of the maturation process. I will continue to grow and explore. There will be no end. The only "end" is when I stop acknowledging who I am, for a society-defined me isn't "me".
All problems in life should not be given excuses for the sake of consolation. It should be tackled. If there is a problem in the present, it should be settled now. It's hard for me to do so, for I have hidden far too many problems in the past. But the least I could do is just calm down and breathe.
Life is a canvas. The world is a canvas. I am my own canvas. If the world paints me in a way, I will paint them in a different way. It is that simple. Unfortunately, I don't paint. I don't draw. I don't sing and I don't act. I don't direct videos. I don't code games. I don't even build although I'm in engineering.
I write.
Through writing, I discovered and observed. I understood and embraced. I noticed the tiny little details about me that was unnoticeable if I didn't write.
Writings are a form of analysis. They are the medicines to a sickness. They are the bright sides of the shadow.
Words express the world to me. Words express myself to the world. But take the world out of the sentence, and words express myself to me.
Life goes on as second year is approaching. This post took me two days. It is my longest post yet. It feels liberating. It feels astonishing.
Even if not many will read this, sometimes, life feels better if you leave an artistic impression somewhere, even if it's to your future self. I did so too many times in the past, and now I understand.
Every poem has a significance. Every story has a meaning. It is never about proper grammar or a wide range of vocabulary; it is about the very act of writing. To write is to discover.
That is art.
Live life freely, but never, ever lose hold of who you are. Never let go of the "self".
Be human, and breathe yourself.
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