Old Feelings

I found two pages from a journal long lost that I wrote in 2010 when I was a child. 3 days before my birthday. They bring old but familiar feelings.

Day 1                                                4/4/10

I’ve realized today, on this Easter day, with the pollen bruising the allergies of others and the day with its lump in his throat. The sky weeps, or it wants to but it can’t because of the hatred and sadness in the earth. I know now that I can never feel at home nor have one for that matter. A reunion of a birth coming our way. Today the rebirth of our Savior. This horrible glorious day. I love holidays. A Time to spend with family that love you. A time of happy Sadness. There is no home for me. I tried to live but life gets the best of me. Nowhere is home for me except for me. Nay, not even me is home enough to live. I portrayed home a place where I can be myself but I see now that that was a mistake. Humans must sacrifice themselves in order to live. You must first die to live. Is this what they tell me? Must I live this fate as well? Should I die? No, I have died. Not today but long ago. I was once free but now I am lost. Or rather I am not lost because I know where I stand. I stand here, waiting for the light that seems to never come. Here in the darkness I stay, and hope that light never comes. Caged bird that I am will forever be manipulated no matter how hard I try to break from its grasp. A lonely bird I am. A lonely bird I shall always be.


Coming to Age

After the graduation of high school, I was forced to experience true adulthood. I had a taste of it that senior year but I knew it wasn’t all it had to offer. You don’t expect for things to get worse but they can. My entire life, we’ve struggled to live. It was just my mom and I, with no one else to help us. My mom made sacrifices as a loving mother does. I was scheduled for college, ready for it. I was always told I was smart enough. I prepared for it for 4 years by taking harder classes. I was even allowed to go out of state as I always wanted. I wanted to be independent and experience what life had to offer. It came at a price, however. I would miss holidays and birthdays with my family. I would celebrate other holidays with friends and their families. I never felt so alone but I was okay. I wasn’t forgotten and I had fun being independent. 

The year ended and I decided I would handle the finances of my school. That’s when I truly realized how money would ruin me. Debt. It’s something we all grow up knowing about but I never knew how badly it would affect my mom and I. I confronted her about it and she assured me that everything would be fine. Bills started to go unpaid and more debt racked onto my mother. You see, prior to my adulthood, my mother had already put herself into debt in order to raise me. I was an accident with no love of a father. My mother was on her own living with family member to family member. I would never know what it was to live in a house with just my parent. I could see my mother struggling. So I gave up my college life out of state and went to a community college I always dreaded. I felt like I was stupid because community college is something of a ridicule to intelligent people. I avoided telling people what school I went to. I took up a job tutoring high schoolers in a program that encouraged college of any kind. And yet, I was embarrassed. 

I paid for the bulk of my college tuition with the aid of my mother, financial aid and grants. But I couldn’t take many classes. The year dragged on. I felt behind. My final year, I wanted to finish faster. I took on another job. Chick-fil-A. Within 6 months I became a team leader (like an assistant manager). I hated the job. People were cruel. Co-workers wouldn’t do their jobs properly. We were overworked and others would agree. My family made fun of the job because it was a fast food joint. Yet they loved to go there. I was ashamed to work there because of her words. Yes, her. 

I was always tired. My social life was non-existent. I struggled to survive my classes and work 60+ hours. But I needed the money. My grades suffered but I passed. I got my associates. I was ready to go to the university. I had no other choice if I wanted to survive in the future. An associates is nothing. A bachelor’s is kind of something. A doctorate is what I want. I want to save lives. That’s what I’d think. But I couldn’t pay tuition. So, I stopped for a year of school and solely worked. Raising as much as I can. Which was mediocre. I raised enough for a year. My school boasts about having low tuition. It was still too much. I lost my grant because my mother “made too much.” How? We lived with my grandmother who makes nothing at her job in the hospital. She’s a scheduler with a beginner’s money. My mother works at a different hospital and is getting the highest she could be paid in a position that forces her to do everything in the office. None of them have degrees. But still I go. 

Things don’t go as planned. More and more expenses arise. I help my mom with bills as much as I can. But it still isn’t enough. I had quit my jobs to study for school. I would find another next summer. I hated the jobs anyways. If I had to, I’d go into private tutoring. Now I can’t pay my final payment for classes, my cell phone’s bill is overdue, bills bills bills. We have no money and I don’t want to ask my mother for more debt money. I feel pathetic. I feel angry. I feel annoyed. I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of breathing. But I can’t leave. I can’t leave my mom alone. I don’t care about anyone but her. So, I continue to struggle on like everyone else. What will happen now? How am I supposed to hope for a career of money if it takes more money to get there? How do other people in worse positions than me do it? How do they get there? The government doesn’t want to help me. Civilians won’t help me. Family won’t help me. I do all I can but it isn’t enough apparently. For now, all I can do is smile while I keep killing myself inside. I understand now why thieves exist. They just steal from the wrong people. I never wanted to grow up. And now I understand why.


We are lost. Why was I thrown away? Why? We had such amazing memories and laughs together. I thought we would be together forever. So, what happened? My best friend. We dreamed of traveling together to be surprised and amazed at things. We were to giggle together when foreign rains fell on us. Now you don’t even go outside anymore. You only go when you have “things” to do. When I want to play, you say, “Later. I’m busy right now. I have to finish this.” But you never play. You go to sleep because you are tired afterwords. You sometimes think about me, this I know. I see how you sometimes hesitate to stop whatever it is you are doing just to play with me. I like playing! Remember hide-and-go-seek? Do you still like that game? Ah, there’s a boy here! Why? He has cooties! Oh, I get it. It’s a game. We are planning to kick him out, right? Huh? You are hugging him. Holding his hand. Haha sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-?? WHAT? You… you like it. Gross! Icky! But what about me? Where are my hugs? We used to play so much but now you ignore me. I get it. There is no longer a need for me anymore, right? I don’t need to be there with you to scare the monsters away from the closet or the bed. Oh? There are others here like me. What? Oh. This place is for ‘us.’ You don’t need us anymore. We can’t stay forever, I see. A part of us will stay but we mostly have to go. We won’t forget you so don’t forget us, please?

No Adults Allowed,



Date: March 20, 2017

I’m blessed with a talent I never fought to have. I can memorize things just by working on it once. What is “such a hard algebra problem” to others, is a simple problem for me. Of course, that is assuming I have seen the connections. I see things in numbers. Connections or relationships to the family of alebra. It’s the basis of all math. No one understands and why should they? They can’t see what I see. I’ve tutored for so long (since middle school, if I remember correctly) that all subjects become easy for me. I try hard to show these connections to others. I’m good at explaining things in about 3 different ways. But I am ungrateful. I don’t want it. It is tiresome. Why is that? I used to love to be the smart one. Am I done learning? I’ve learned up to Calculus II, Biochemistry, Physics, Organic Chemistry, Biology, and more. But there is so much more I could learn. So, why have I given up? Such a bothersome conflict I must go through. I don’t have an answer right now but I’m sure I will eventually. Knowledge is power. Then power must be knowledge, correct? I sigh. In conclusion, my current conflict: I’ve learned so much but why do I wish to stop? There must be others this way. Isn’t there?


No Help Needed

“Hey! You’re smart! What do I do?”

I have heard this line quite a bit in my life time with certain variations.

“You missed weeks of classes because you were sick? You’ll be fine. You’re really smart! You don’t need to see my notes.”

I hate sentences like these the most. It almost makes me feel like I’m not a normal person like everyone else. Intelligent people are not supposed to need any kind of help. This is a social norm and no one is doing anything to prove it otherwise. At times, I keep it this way at the expense of my own happiness. I begin to believe words like this and think that having help is one of the greatest sins I could ever possibly have.

“Problems in your personal life? You must already have a solution. You help everyone else and give them solutions. You don’t need my shoulder to cry on.”

But I do and I have forgotten that fact. Hear me out. I need you just as much as you need me. Something that I wish my friends and family would realize is that I have a voice that wants to be heard too. I don’t want to just listen to your problems and solve them for you, I want you to listen as well. But there is hope.

“I need your help. I know I always seem like I have everything under control but sometimes, I really don’t. I can be just as clueless as you can. Please help me.”

That’s something I say. Rarely, but I do say it. I realize that a bit of humility can go a long way. But I’m careful who I say it to. I ask people who will listen to me. And I mean actually LISTEN to me as I do them. You just need to find that person. I realize that I can’t think that I am alone in this world. I’m not.


It’s been said before, “you are smart.”

This blog targets intelligent, but not limited to, people who see intelligence as a hindrance.

All too often are there victims to the plague called ‘intelligence.’ And all too often are there individuals who suffer from it. For as long as I can remember in my academic career, I have been told that I was smart. I was rewarded for my intelligence, as is anyone who appreciates intelligence. Often times, I believed them. As I reach the young age of twenty-two, I realize that I have had more troubles within myself than I let others believe. I begin to wonder, if there are others out there who feel the same. There must be. I’m an academic therefore, I am not na├»ve to think otherwise. There is a problem with the word smart. It does things to my mind as it always has in childhood. I noticed how much of a curse it can be to be intelligent and have decided to broadcast it. I may not be as intelligent as most, I accept that. However, I am not average. I know things that annoy others, even when I try not to. I am alone. I am lonely in my solitude of academia.

I am surrounded by a family who are not so academically inclined as I am. They would rather choose the uncivilized way than the rational way. I cannot talk to them the way I would my academic friends, which is few. Nor do I want to, at this point. Therefore, I have learned everything on my own (with the exception of educators, of course). When I was stuck on a homework problem, I would figure it out on my own before talking to a teacher. Family is of no help to me. In my family, I am ridiculed for my intelligence, but I am also encouraged. It’s controversial and I don’t believe they see it. I don’t hate intelligence. I bear it. I log it. So that it may one day make a ‘better’ me. This is my diary. A diary of a scholar.