Just Another Outcast

I’m not sure where it all went wrong
Or was it wrong all along?
I’ve felt alone for far too long
Even when I wasn’t alone
Even when I had others on my side
It never did feel quite right

Will I ever fit in?
Is it meant to be?
Or was I destined to be an outcast
Forever alone for all eternity
I don’t know what’s wrong with me
I guess I never really knew my identity

After all this time I thought I’d find my place
Find some peace
But my seat is only temporary
I’m only here for a short time
Meant to be replaced
Easily forgotten
Soon I’ll become just a face
Just a blip on the radar
A vague notion on the mind

I’ve tried for decades to find acceptance
And sometimes I find it
But it’s always fleeting
Never meant to last
I’m permanently impermanent
Just another outcast

I suspect that this is what I’m meant for
To wander for all eternity
A nomad without a home
Someone who bounces from place to place
Unwanted here, unwanted there
Never understood, never appreciated
Never accepted for who I am
But it is what it is, that’s life

I’ve tried my best to find my place
To find a permanent place to stay
But my seat is only temporary
I’d like to stay but I can’t
It just doesn’t feel right

I’m just another outcast
It wasn’t my choice, but it is my role
Best to accept it
Ignore the disappointment
In order to avoid the rigmarole 

Left Behind (Time After Time)

Time after time it feels like history repeats itself
It feels like it’s the same old story being told
I’ve been searching and praying for so long
Trying to find someone to hold me
Who would have my back
But it seems like my search is in vain

Each time the friendship comes to a close
Each time I’m left feeling betrayed
I gave it my all, and I tried my best
But I guess that wasn’t enough
It seems it wasn’t meant to last

Each time I pick myself back up again
Eventually I’m able to try again
But the next time is always harder than the last
I can only make myself vulnerable so much
I’m afraid to get hurt again
I’m afraid to put it all in
And get nothing in return

Is there something wrong with me?
Am I the reason all things come to an end?
Am I the reason no one wants to be my friend?
I’ve never really fit in
Never could find my place
I’ve tried time and time again

But it seems I always get left behind
Ignored and forgotten, easily overlooked
What have I done wrong?
But I’m never given the courtesy
Never been told face to face

We’re not cool anymore
Time has passed us by
We’re going our separate ways
And that’s all I’ll ever know
All this but never been given reasons why
Never could figure out why I’m so easy to leave behind

I guess that’s life
No real place for me
No true friends to hold me down
No one who has my back through thick and thin
But I’ll manage, I’ll get back on my feet
I’ve always been on my own, always been alone

For brief moments of time it seems things will be different
But the story always ends the same
Me on my lonesome, again wondering what happened
You’d think I’d learn by now, would no longer be blindsided
You’d think I’d realize that friendship was not meant to be
It’s me versus the world, that’s how it’s always been

Just trying to find my place
But never appreciated and always left behind
I’ve changed and I’ve gotten better
I’m no longer a burden like I used to be
But that doesn’t seem to matter

It’s the same old story, it always ends the same
A friendship ends, a friendship dies
And I’m always left behind
Always the one that’s hurt
But no one ever cares
I’m collateral damage, it’s okay if I get hurt

They don’t think I’m worth much
I’m just baggage that can be cut loose
It’s okay for them to severe ties
They can find someone else easily, don’t really have to search
“That guy, I don’t need that guy,” they say
And perhaps that’s true
But I gave them all of me, and they just said, “fuck you”

It’s the same old story
It always ends with me hurt
They’re able to move on
Never consider what I’m worth
It hurts every time
And eventually I’ll get over it
Eventually I’ll heal
But it gets harder each time

Maybe I’m just meant to be on my own
Cause I know what I’m worth
I guess it is what it is
Never meant to be
There’s not a place for me in their lives
It’s just me and me
I’ll make it through
I promise you I’ll be alright

I guess I never really needed them
But it hurts just the same
But I’ll get over it and heal
I’ll be alright
But I’ll be alone
At the end of the day my heart is my home

Fly Eagles Fly

It’s finally over (and good riddance too). My NFL season is done. I don’t really talk about sports much on this page for whatever reason. I guess maybe it doesn’t seem that relevant to mental health (although it is mentally and emotionally draining for me a lot of the time). But I think I have to talk about it. If I don’t talk about it here, I feel like the results of this season will weigh heavily on my heart and mind. Best if I just get it off my chest then.

I admit, I don’t look like your typical sports fan. I’m a 5’9” Asian-American male who weighs one hundred and twenty-five pounds soaking wet. I’m thirty-two years old, but probably look closer to twenty-two. And based on appearance alone you’d probably think I’m somewhere between a hipster and a nerd. You wouldn’t be wrong in that assessment. I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum. Choosing not to conform, and not being afraid to stand out. I’ve always thought of myself as different, but the truth is I think I’ve just always had a hard time fitting in. I never really knew the full reason(s), and I still don’t. But I suspect my varied interests plays a role in it.

While I’m not generally one to start a conversation, I can talk at length about football or UFC, but I can also talk at length about Marvel or Star Wars, or metal and rock music, or politics and the environment. If there’s one thing you should know about me it’s that I can get quite obsessive about my interests. I need to know everything there is to know about a certain band or author or what have you. It’s always been in my nature to try to find out the answers to all of my questions. Not a bad trait to have, but it’s not all rainbows and sunshine. This incessant search for knowledge and information can at times prevent me from living in the moment. And it can end up using far too much of my time. And chances are once you get me talking about these things you can’t get me to stop talking about these things. What can I say? I’m passionate about the things I love.

But it often comes at a cost. Especially when it comes to sporting events. If there’s a UFC event on you can bet that I’ll be watching the whole thing, from the first prelim to the main event. Doesn’t matter if the fighters are people that I’ve never heard of, or athletes that I don’t like, I still have to watch every fight. Part of that is because I’ve always been a completionist at heart. If you give me an RPG I’m looking for and collecting every item, junk or treasure. And you’ll find me doing all the side quests before I even get started on the main one. Which again comes at a cost—more often than not I get tired of a game before I get a chance to finish it. The same goes with listening to music or pleasure reading. I listen to artists by discography in chronological order. Likewise, for authors with an extensive list of works (take Stephen King for example) I will read from oldest to newest. And during COVID I found a Marvel comics reading order online that includes over 15,000 issues, starting from it’s inception to present day (I’m currently in 2008, not that anyone asked), so I’ve been chipping away at it since then.

If this sounds tedious, it’s because it is! But it’s a part of me that I feel like can’t really be helped. I’ve tried to suppress certain interests of mine before in the past, but it’s never really worked out. As much as I pretended not to nerd out in public, I still ended up doing it on my own time. I am a complex individual that’s composed of many parts, not all of them are equal in size, but all play a role in shaping who I am. When it comes down to it, I’m a creature of habit, so once I get stuck in a routine it’s hard for me to break away from it. Even after all this time, I’m still trying to find a delicate balance. How can I do the things I love to do while still being flexible? How do I manage my time if all of my interests demand my attention? Unfortunately, it means that some of these things get neglected for a while. But eventually I always go back to them. Except one thing that I can’t return to, because I’ve never left it behind.

Football. Football consumes me. I follow it year round, not just in the fall when the season is played. Every day consists of reading articles from various news outlets. Once the Super Bowl ends, I look on at Free Agency and the draft. Once the draft ends I’m thinking about training camp. I live and breathe football, even though I didn’t get a chance to play it when I was younger. In fact, I didn’t even participate in sports when I was a kid, which I’m still bitter about, but that’s a story for a different time. Not being able to play did not, however, prevent me from watching a shit ton of sports. Which is something that my immigrant parents never really understood. 

I can’t really blame them. Growing up in China and Cambodia never afforded them the luxury of playing or watching sports. But I digress. My interest in watching sports began in fifth grade, mostly by accident. Our family never had cable consistently, so my TV options were rather limited. After school I would watch TNA Wrestling, and on the weekends I would watch whatever game was on, be it football, baseball, or hockey. It started out at first as just something to do, but I eventually developed an interest in football in particular. I would read about it and check stats in the newspaper, I started buying Madden and NCAA Football video games, and I would listen intently as I watched the broadcasts. Eventually it became part of my routine—turning on a football game once we got home from church. 

That much hasn’t changed in the twenty-two years since. If anything it’s gotten worse. Rather than just watching a game or two on Sundays, it’s gotten to the point where I watch five games at a minimum each week, regardless of if the matchups are good or not. If you wanted to hang out with me on a Sunday, Monday, or a Thursday during the football season you can forget about it! My time slots are booked up. I’ve tried to become more flexible, to be less stubborn, to be less obsessed. But whatever I’ve tried has not worked. That being said though, I know every rule there is to know about the game. I can tell you who plays what position and for what team. I can explain strategy or schemes to you. I don’t look like I know football, but I do. 

But this season was disappointing and tough to watch. Which unfortunately, is something I’m quite used to. Sports fandom itself is a hard thing to understand from the outside looking in. How does this affect us directly? Why do we care so much about the teams that we support? Isn’t it just a game? Yes, but no. Somehow we find camaraderie in a shared interest. These fellow fans become our brethren—brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts. If you really think about it though, how is this different from any other fandom? Do people who read the same books not gravitate towards each other? Do friends who watch the same shows not talk about them together? The only difference is that it’s on a much larger scale and on a grander stage. Sports fandom reaches into the millions, bringing people together from all walks of life. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor. From the city or the suburbs. Local or out of towner. Male or female. It doesn’t discriminate by race or political views. It brings us together. 

And for a while, it allows us to forget about the worries we have in our regular lives. We might have high highs or low lows, but we’re in it together, as one. To a sports fan, we’re as much a part of the team as the players and the coaches. We rejoice with them when we win, and we commiserate with them when we lose. For the last few years, there have been many more wins than losses. But it wasn’t always like that for me growing up. Many seasons ended for us in heartbreak fashion but I can’t remember a season anywhere near as disappointing as this one.

I still remember the day I became a hardcore Philadelphia Eagles fan. Having moved to New England from Philadelphia when I was in second grade, the first few years that I watched sports I mostly rooted for Boston teams, although I did support both the Patriots and the Eagles. But all that changed in 2004 when my two hometown teams faced each other in the Super Bowl. I remember coming to a crossroads, not knowing which team to pick. But as I stated before, I’ve always been different and a bit of a contrarian. So I went against the grain, and sided with the Eagles. Since then we’ve played in three Super Bowls, winning one and losing two. While the Patriots have appeared in nine, and won six. However, I do not regret that decision and I never will.

Since that time, there’s been many a rough season that culminated with a coach getting fired. Or a season that started out with high hopes and promise but fizzled out. Or ones that have ended with disappointment and heartbreak. But each one of those years we learned to temper our expectations, because we had a feeling it would be the same ole Eagles letting us down once again. It had always been a team that fell flat in the biggest moments. One that never could get over the hump. But even through it all, they were still our team. We were still behind them through thick and thin. All that changed in 2017, when we finally won the big game. This was, “the new normal” for us. We expected deep playoff runs and more rings. Our expectations were high, and they remained that way.

Little did we know that it would soon fall apart. It wasn’t meant to be. Just a one off, rather than a dynasty. But even after the winners of that Super Bowl got sent off to different cities, hope was restored. We came so close to winning it again last year. Just a few plays away. So close. So we started out 2023, expecting to make it back. Expecting to be just as good a team as last year. And it started out that way! We were the best team in the league, on top of the world from September to November. But December came and we crashed and burned. Never in my years of watching the Eagles have I seen such an epic collapse. Never has there been so drastic a fall from grace in such a short period of time. One of the best teams in the league for the first three months, but one of the worst in the last seven weeks. So that’s it, we’re done. The season is over. Onto the next one. We’ll try again and start over. But however upsetting it was, however disappointing, the Eagles are still my team forever and always. I’ll always rep the green and white. I’m still sad that this is how it ended, but I’ll still be here cheering them on. Fly Eagles Fly.

Lady Luck

What a cruel mistress we serve
Sometimes Lady Luck is on our side
But more often than that she is not
She is one on whom we cannot rely
She is a fickle master
Choosing to bless us as she sees fit

We cry out hoping and praying
That this will be our day
That we will win or get lucky
That the ball will bounce our way
“Just throw me a bone, just one please”

But our pleas are empty
They reach the ether unheard
“You know I need this”
“You know I’m most deserving,” we say
But not all is won on merit
Life isn’t fair
We don’t always get what we deserve

We must get on out of bed
Continue with what we do
There is no windfall waiting for us
There is no blank check with our name on it
We must focus on what’s in our power
We must focus on the day to day
We must do what we can, for that is all we have

We can’t force Lady Luck to heed our wishes
We can’t expect her to always be on our side
We can’t live everyday waiting for a miracle
It will only ever lead to disappointment

But even still, luck be our mistress we hope and pray
Please be on our side
Grant me this one request
Bless me this one time

We can wait and wait and wait
Ready to reap our reward
But what if luck has nothing for us, what then?
We’ll live and we’ll die
Never knowing what joy feels like
Do we want luck to be our master?
Or do we want to control our luck?
Do what we can and prosper
Rather than keep waiting for the days to change

Great Expectations

I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. I never really have (aside from a handful of times). Truth be told “resolution” is a word that I’m not too fond of to begin with. It’s too definite and suffocating. It’s a results-driven word that sets up a pass/fail scenario. Did I see my resolutions through to the end? If yes, then I succeeded. If no, then I didn’t. For some, it’s not a huge deal. They might say, “oh well, I’ll try again next year.” Or use some other justification. But for someone who overthinks as much as I do, and used to struggle with self-confidence the way I did it could instead be quite damning. The prospect of failure was too much for me to bear.

Before I started seeing a therapist, I had a tendency to spiral. I’d replay scenarios in my head, wallow in self-pity, and I took failure personally. Every time something didn’t go as planned or ended in a negative result my confidence meter took a hit. As I’ve said before, I was not well-equipped to handle adversity, had no self-awareness, didn’t have an ounce of mental fortitude. When times got tough I withered. When the pressure was on I came up small. When misfortune hit everything cratered. So for me, a failed resolution became another reason for why I didn’t deserve to live. I took it as proof that I was worthless, and would always amount to nothing. 

So why bother making them if I was certain they would fail? Why risk it when disappointment was likely inevitable? Not a healthy train of thought in the slightest, but I was not a healthy person. As you know, in the past few years I’ve found my healing. I’ve changed and I’ve grown. I’m not the same scared kid that I used to be. I’m not the same person that used to break easily. I’m not the same guy that looked for excuses not to try. But as much as I’ve changed, a few things still remain. I don’t do New Year’s resolutions, and I probably never will. Perhaps deep down I’m still worried about the pain that failure might cause? Perhaps not. 

Either way, the tradition is results-driven, and as you’ve probably noticed by now I am much more process-driven. I hold myself to a certain standard and I’ll settle for nothing less. I’ve lucked into positive results in the past, but was never able to sustain the success, because I hadn’t set myself up for the future. In order to get repeated good results, you need to firm up your process. It’s hard to do that if you’re not meeting the standard. If I’m being honest, that type of outcome—success without meeting the standard—is futile to me. If the changes I make aren’t permanent, then it’s wasted effort. Everything I do henceforth would be done in hopes that I would hit the mark without knowing how I actually did it the first time. Which is only wasting time. Think of it like an experiment. You write out the steps you need to take in order to get the results that you want. If there’s a mistake in your process, you tinker then try again. And again and again and again. That’s how you learn and grow and improve. By finding out what works and what doesn’t work, and changing your process accordingly.

This is exactly what I lacked when I was in high school—the ability to adapt. I didn’t have a process whatsoever, let alone a sound one. But I still expected success to come of it. I still expected things to work out in my favor, meanwhile ignoring the fact that I had done nothing to ensure such results. You can’t get good grades unless you study the material. You can’t get a girlfriend unless you develop some sort of connection first. You can’t find success unless you put in the work. Sounds obvious, but it wasn’t to me. For whatever reason, I had thought I was a special case. I thought I could get positive results without putting in much effort. In truth, I think at times I was just too smart for my own good. Elementary school came easy to me, so I continued to expect more of the same. I should’ve known that eventually it would catch up to me. But I remained blissfully ignorant and unaware until it was too late.

By that point, I was in college, and in way over my head. Throughout Junior High and High School I had put in the minimum level of effort required to come away with mostly B’s, some A’s, and a handful of C’s. Which was acceptable to me, but beneath my level of care. I kept asking myself, “why put in all that effort if I can do less and still come away with adequate results?” I thought I was being smart, but little did I know that this was always going to come back to bite me. I approached my college courses with the same level of inattention, and I suffered the consequences for it—coming away with the first and last D I ever received. Which nearly ruined my college career right when I had just begun. But I put my head down and got serious, because what else could I do? I needed to right the ship immediately.

After some steady effort for the next three and a half years, I was able to bring my GPA back up to something respectable. But what could’ve been? How different would my life have turned out if I’d actually tried? What if I hadn’t talked myself into accepting a life of mediocrity? What if I had worked diligently the whole time, rather than only for the last handful of years? What if I had been as determined then as I am now? Unfortunately, these are not questions that we will ever get the answers to. Who I was then is not who I am now. I wasn’t someone capable of pushing through adversity. I was weak-willed, a quitter—someone who always took the easy way out. Someone who was used to running away or hiding. Someone who was pampered and sheltered. Someone who never took responsibility or held himself accountable. I thought that all mistakes could be covered up, and that I could lie and weasel my way out of the consequences. I lacked the self-awareness necessary to realize that I wasn’t fooling anyone.

And yet, I somehow lucked my way into mild success. Again, nothing sustainable because I didn’t have a sound process, but it was better than what I’d experienced up til then. For the first time in twenty-four years I was content. But the contentedness was fleeting. As I gained more responsibility at my job, the work became less fulfilling. And the little confidence I had gained whittled away again, and I was left with even less than I’d started with. Little did I know, but I wasn’t meant for the corporate world. I had only entered into it because, like always, I had taken the easy way out. When I left high school I didn’t have a plan—I hadn’t spent much time thinking about my future. Which is fine for someone of that age. It’s perfectly acceptable to start college with “undecided” for a major. But the thought had never crossed my mind. Instead, I pursued one of the career paths that I thought would be acceptable to my parents. I didn’t have the grades or the patience for a STEM major, so I studied Business instead.

But that was never my interest or who I was. It wasn’t what I was meant to do. I wasn’t a marketing analyst like I had thought. I wasn’t a salesman like my employer had told me. I wasn’t even a customer service representative even though I was good at it. I’m a writer and a storyteller. A creative and an artist. I was meant to craft sentences and build worlds. I was meant to wordplay. That is what I am and that is who I will be. I’ve learned a lot since I dedicated myself to this blog in 2020. It’s been a long journey with many twists and turns. Up until last year I was learning on the job, getting better incrementally but not getting good enough or progressing fast enough. That much changed when I found a writing community. I started to receive the feedback that I needed to hear in order for me to level up my ability. The year 2023 was a blessing, and I’m looking forward to seeing what 2024 can do for me.

So as the calendar crosses over, what am I hoping to accomplish? What am I expecting from the new year? As I said, I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. But I will set expectations. I expect to continue to improve as a writer and a storyteller each and every day. I expect to be able to write free of hindrance—no longer will I question whether or not I’m good enough. I expect my words to flow easier than they did before. I expect my story to be more coherent. I expect to continue to foster relationships with other aspiring authors. I expect to continue to learn from both the good and bad in life. I expect to become a better person this year than I was last year. But most of all, I expect abundance, growth, and blessings. Something good will come of your life if you only continue to work.

Writing. Plain, simple, unadulterated. I am a storyteller, an essayist, a poet, a writer, a thinker, a mental health advocate, a regular real life human being