“ is it terrifying? “

“ no. i don’t think so. it’s the way it is, you know? everything must come to an end, the drip finally stops. “

Act 1: The Spilled Bags.

in the journey of finding the person in myself that once i adore so much, i’ll give you this imagery:

have you ever rummage through your things inside your bag, awkward smile and a “ just one second! “, the panic and heart palpitations then you pour all of your things. it’s messy, and embarassing. but you found it, “ sorry it took so long “, you brushed your knees and sigh to yourself. you could say, “ way to go, champ. “, cheeks blushing out of embarassment but you also realized the panic…. is gone. and you didn’t intellectualize or even realize this fact, but you could breath just a bit easier.

that, is how it feels when you try to find the best version you once was. it was — it is there. you just didn’t know where it is, but you kept on rummaging. again and again. in my opinion before, that’s all that matters — as long as you keep on seeking it. but obviously the guilt of not finding it any sooner kills you, gives you guilt. but sooner or later, you’ll find it. or you don’t, but you’ll still stand up and brush your knees. now, that’s what truly matters.

Act 2: Shit Gets Cold. (Pardon Me)

when i was younger, there’s a quote.. or perspective? i forgot. it said something along the line of becoming comfortable in your sadness, that’s why it’s so hard to get out.

and for some point, i did realize i shouldn’t have been comfortable with my own sadness, i need to get rid of it. just like my father said when i was young, some of my spirit are like shit, pardon my language; it meant it’s only warm at first, then it gets cold. which now, makes no sense to me, because who fucking cares about shits getting cold? pardon my language again, or whatever.

enough shit talking, so then i get back on being sad. and for so long i felt bad about it. i thought i changed, no, i thought i made some changes…. or at least were trying to change.

i felt that so long.

i know changes will never be linear, it’s easy to give such wisdom to other people. because it’s ideal, i learnt so much about life, about living; God, i don’t even want to live. anyways, i got the gist of how to live, and i tell others; helping them living life the fullest. but me? i don’t know anything about it.

i went to therapy 2 years ago, i started getting on medications. she, my psychiatrist, is a family-friend. she is very nice and very kind. out of desperation, i didn’t care she was my mother’s best friend. i felt like i filled my guts with guilt, with sadness and every sad sobby stories. i vomit-ed it all. even ones i don’t think you should tell your mother’s best friend. including ones about her best friend, who happens to also be my mother.

and she asked so nicely, “ can i speak to your mother about this? “

i softly said, “ no, sorry. “

and she nodded, and i knew she kept her words. because i’d know if it came to my mother.

and for the first time, i believed in living. i kept my promise to live for another day, and another, and another. then some little side quests, like being kinder. or working my ass off to finish my thesis. and then appreciating life. and for the record, i know those records are small, but all that matters is that you kept making new records right?

“ after that, you’ll beat your record again. every day, you’ll set a new record. “

Act 3: Spitballing, and Spoiler: It’s Not Great.

i wish i could put a ‘the end’ on the story. it would be good. it lasted sweet.

it went on for two years, the best version i ever was.

i met some new people, and arguably some of the best life lessons. these people, not all of them are still in my life. and despite at some part of my life i try to pretend they don’t matter —

they do. not in a way of i wish they’re still in my life.

have you ever had people you thought, huh… you might not be in my life anymore. and it is for good. but if i could relive our moments, i will. just once. to remember again how good it was. but i’m glad. i’m glad you came, and i’m glad you left.

i promise i’m not just spitballing, there’s a conclusion here. so don’t get tired of me yet. please?

well, it didn’t end well. somewhere along the line, i lost who i was and who i worked upon to be a certain version of myself.

to update you, i didn’t take my medications properly. i kept on stop taking it when i felt slightly better because of many things.

i also, didn’t keep my promise to live a life i adore. or kept trying to be happy.

god, we could do 30 nights just listing the promises i couldn’t keep to myself. so i’ll keep it short, i relapsed. i withdrew and went back to the person i was before therapy. worse, even. i did mistakes that i wish i’ll carry to my grave.

the ideas, of ending it all, came again. i don’t like who i am anymore. and i kept on asking, these two years… have it been me? was i an imposter? or,

am i just doomed from the start?

“ sometimes i feel like i was born with a leak, and any goodness i started with just slowly spilled out of me, and now it’s all gone. “

Act 4: Life’s a Hokey Pokey.

these past two months have been the scariest months i’ve ever lived by. not because something big, or momentum have happened. nothing much had happened, some things happened: like a weird spin-off of a series that makes no sense it’s there. it’s just bunch of puzzles that doesn’t fit each others.

i wish i could say, “ but at least i lived, right? “. cliché. but i didn’t.. really live.

it gets back like before that i have to live day by day just to get by. and, i’ll stop spitballing.

i did some mistakes, and even bunching it all into one word of ‘mistakes’ makes it sound uneven. big, individual, mistakes. plural.

i thought, if i’m doomed then what’s the point of getting better right? so i fall back, over and over to the same mistakes. getting bigger, worse. one lie after another to hide it. i was, proud even.

in this world, sometimes when it gets so bad; only awful things makes sense. rest if it? the nice things felt like façades.

so i continue them, like an addiction. and that makes it shittier, and sillier. because it’s not even drugs, or alcohols — things that literally affect you and give you an addiction and withdrawal symptoms and as people described, you turned into zombie at one point and another you roll over the ground like a dog itching for a part to be scratched but never got it to the point you’re balding.

it’s just. hurting others. that’s the habit i kept on falling back to. even justified it with a silly wisdom, “ no one will get hurt from anybody else if they don’t expect something from you “. but, hurt people hurts people.

i try to talk to my friends, i didn’t search for justification or them defending me. i want somebody to call me out and say, “ you’re correct, you’re a piece of shit and please die “.

when i talked to my best friend, she made some points,

1. you felt guilty of all them, so that doesn’t make you a fully bad person. because that means your heart’s still working to keep you on the track
2. if you keep introspecting yourself, even though you’re coming from a bad place; eventually you’ll get better and better.
3. she didn’t say this directly, but after knowing all i did. she is, still my best friend. she said once, even if i think i’m a bad person, she’s still my best friend. not because she didn’t hold me accountable, but because; she’s my best friend.

in my life there’s three people that changed my life.

first, the private tutor i had for 4 years, who believed in me when no one else did.

second, the english teacher in my high school, who believed in me when no one else did.

third, my now best friend from uni, who believed in me when i didn’t believed myself.

life is a never-ending turning around. what’s done is done, you have to acknowledge the bad parts too. but if anything the bojack horseman series taught me about, it’s that sometimes life’s a bitch and then you die? no. life’s a bitch and sometimes you just kept living it.

“ you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around. you turn yourself around, that’s what it’s all about. “

Act 5: Equally Loved and Equally Damaged.

i’m not sure where to end this.

hey, let me tell you a fun fact about me. usually i hyperfixate over a media and then after it ends i searched for every explanations to make sure i don’t miss anything.

deep dives on how character A’s personality, what did this show taught us about life, hidden meanings of character C’s metaphorical scenes, and so on.

so right after i finished bojack horseman, i searched a recap of what people think of the last episode — because there’s no… Ending ending there. it’s not a sad ending. it wasn’t a happy ending too. there’s no, “ happy ever after “ like children shows always end things. but… it wasn’t a cliffhanger. or at least, not one you think only a sequel would do it justice.

it leaves to people to wonder. it gives an open ending. will he relapse after? or will he change for good? i don’t know, none of us know.

the article wrote the characters as “ equally loved and equally damaged “. we are introduced to characters beside bojack horsemen, they have their own little stories. good things, bad things, and in-between things. but i agree, all of them are equally loved and equally damaged. that’s what makes it interesting — older medias taught us the formula of a story requires a good person, a bad person, and side characters no one cares about. but, humans aren’t like that, right?

so, i’ll leave this on an open ending as well.

because i have a life to live on.

“ that’s the thing. i don’t think I believe in deep down. i kinda think that all you are is just the things that you do. “

how’s the view from halfway down, bojack?