Thoughts on Stigma now

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Is there still a stigma for depression?

Is it still considered a stigma if people romanticise this disorder and conveniently play it off the moment they feel blue or hurt by the littlest things? When suddenly people think it’s cool to be ‘depressed’ like it’s a fucking accessory on your character profile of Dungeons and Dragons.

You people don’t know what it’s like to constantly want to jump or cut or be addicted to your medication. You don’t feel the days you just want to bloody off yourself for no valid reason. You’re just using our disorder as an excuse and easy way out. It’s so insulting, it makes me sick.

Where did the days where people whispered behind our backs about the scars on our wrists go? I’d take people thinking I’d spontaneously whip out a knife to stab them any day.

Depression isn’t something you can just turn on and off at your will. If you want to pretend to be us at least get that part right. It gets tiring, doesn’t it? Nice to know, because that’s how all of us feel like. Indefinitely tired. Tired of feelings, of moving and mostly of life.

Yeah, life was simpler with stigma. At least people left me the fuck alone. Everyone’s just an asshole now.

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IMAHORRIBLEPERSON #1

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I spoke to break them up.
Somewhere along the way, I decided that what I believed in and forsaw was the only conclusion and I manipulated her into aggravating the situation. I nearly succeed.

I knew exactly what she was getting herself into. But I wanted to break her. I wanted her to finally fail. I was sick of her getting everything she wanted. Her pets, a perfect husband and endless support from our father. I let her go.
But I wanted to watch her crash and burn. And I wanted to be the one who caused it.

I wanted to take the good she didn’t see if front of her before she noticed. I wanted her to regret. To feel extreme loss; again and over. She didn’t deserve to be happy. She was just lucky. She always was and it wasn’t fair.

I thought everything through. I read everyone involved perfectly. I was ready to twist our mother against her, I could have. I would have but I didn’t.

I didn’t because I hesitated. After months and months of making notes in my head of what to say and who to accidentally bump into, I didn’t do it.

I didn’t do it because I decided that her staying this way would hurt her more. To have her fight hard enough and not end up with what she wanted just like the rest of us. I let them stay together. Because it was my way of trapping her. Her personal hell defined by a signed contract and circumstances. I wanted her to face her own consequences.

I wanted her to hurt more.

So I built her up again and sometimes it saddens me that she’s so happy again, with child and husband. Showered with support in everything she does.

I should feel happy for her but I’m so bitter. Because in the end I am the one who gave her this life again. Everytime she asked me to fix things I somehow did. ‘I’ll figure something out, right?’

I was supposed to sabotage her.
I was supposed to tear her down.

But I didn’t and I should be happy but I’m not. All the effort wasted. I go home and see her as one of my social-engineering  failures all because I hesitated. A could have; an almost.

It pains me, I never got what she got when was down. Instead I am told to shut up and to stop crying. When I am torn and vacant I am demanded to smile and be happy for my father.

I knocked her down and instead of suffering I saw how much tighter the collar around my neck was.

No matter how hard I try, I am always losing while she is just lucky.

Sister, sister you are ever so lucky.

And I can’t help hating you for it.

Matsuya all day, everyday

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Besides walking through dark alleys at 3am, countless 24hour marts, Calpis soda and ridiculously good convenience store food, one of the few things I particularly miss from Japan is Matsuya.
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Matsuya is the best thing ever especially for people like Nii and I, mainly because we’re such devil may cry anti social gaijins, we would rather not talk to anyone other than each other even when it comes to ordering food. That’s right, Matsuya doesn’t require up front counter customers-employee interaction, thank Gad. You pick a beef bowl you want at the kiosk, collect your gyu-don ticket, get seated and they serve you your food. No questions asked, just eat and get the fuck out. It’s all about efficiency over here. Oh and have a cup of water too because they’re polite like that.

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It doesn’t help at all that their variety for beef bowls is huge and I barely managed to sample all of them within the 10 days I was in Japan. I had to get Nii to order different sets just for the sake of trying. You see, it turned into an obsession then some gyu-don pokedex OCD after the third time eating it within 2 days. I would insert some beef pun here but I’m currently short of it.

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Matsuya is also so affordable. Either that, or I’m just really low maintenance scum. But I can totally live with that.

Why you may ask? Because I only brought a pathetic 100k yen over (roughly SGD$1000) due to last minute financial constraints and I WAS REALLY BROKE, OKAY, IT SUCKED. But seriously though, Matsuya was my choice. I woke up specifically to eat a different beef bowl everyday and most times, I’d be salivating over having my next one the supper before.

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Another reason why Matsuya is the bomb.

Because Japanese rice is life. I don’t care if you come up and tell me that it’s just normal rice with vinegar, sugar and more water. No matter how hard I try, I’ll never get my rice nearly as fluffy or as chewy as I get it at Matsuya, and… and… oh my gad I’m starting to tear up. In essence, Matsuya rice is probably the only rice that I’d eat as a proper staple and it makes me emotional.

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And do you know what goes great with the rice? Their sauces, which is practically free flow if you know how to ask for another bottle in Japanese, but why put yourself through all that trouble when you can simply steal it from another table like a fucken gaijin, right? #touristperks #imahorribleperson

But seriously though, Nii knows that I’m crazy over their sour plum sauce. Absolutely crazy. He’s convinced that I only ate the large sized bowls because I was after the rice underneath, which was completely true. All the better to drizzle sour-salty sauce over, y’know.

I even tried looking for it at this 24hour everything-mart, Don Quijote. I failed, which explains why I was 10x more depressed when I got back to Singapore. I can’t eat Tori Q rice anymore it’s not the same. *curls up into a ball and sobs*

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And lastly why Matsuya or just Japan in general is awesome, they have 150yen beer. That’s roughly about SGD$1.80? The price may vary depending on the exchange rate, but guysssssssss two bucks for a beer????!!?!!??!?!?! Priorities man, and this is wayyyy up there on my list.

Well, writing this post is making me hungry and sad. Mostly sad because whatever I eat now will never hold a light beside Matsuya, a Japanese fast food chain.

I am ruined.

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Fade

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Today I wanted to off myself.
I wanted so badly to just sleep and become the nothingness in my head because I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin.

I wanted so much to off myself. But I didn’t because I had no valid reason to. Just like all the times I’d cry hysterically without knowing why.

I wanted to off myself. Because I realized how I’ve become so detached, I didn’t even feel real.