I can’t shake the uncontrollable belief that in order to love yourself you must achieve something unutterable and incomputable and unquantifiably grand.



I know you can’t see my tags fay but that sentence is my entire life right now.

I don’t know whether I should be pleased or concerned that my writing resonates with you, since it comes from a rather restless and unrelenting place, so I’ll settle for the uncertain state in between the two. That being said, I hope you’re feeling better!

Hey! Yeah probably, haha, the first 88 was short turning and there were so many people. I’ve seen you a couple times at NT and getting off the 88 but I didn’t know if you knew what I looked like so I didn’t know if I should say hi. But next time for sure! And I know you’ve probably got you sights set on UChicago or Brown or Columbia or something but if you go to U of T :> we could get coffee or chill at libraries? since that’s literally where I live. 

I feel the same way when other people relate to what I am writing. I’m glad but not at the same time. I’m emotionally a mess right now, I don’t know what to do, what the right things to do are. It’s hard. The only real relationship I have I feel is worthwhile is with a fourth year who’s obviously graduating and didn’t even apply to U of T medical school because her MCAT scores disqualified her or something. I feel like you can relate to me when I say, I can talk to people perfectly fine but to actually find someone who share the same values as me and is at once intellectually stimulating and a whole crap load of other characteristics is hard.

I’ll be honest, this is weird for me. You’re the only person who’s younger than me that I feel like I can have a good conversation with. Most of the people I relate to are much older than me.

I’ll be alright.

I feel like I should remember the first time I felt like committing suicide like how you’re supposed to remember your first kiss or first time. It’s one of those moments that’s supposed to remain vivid as the rest of your past fades into nothing more than a story. But it’s hard for me to pinpoint those moments. I can’t seem to remember them until the next one arises.

I can only speak in generalities when it comes to how I feel during these moments. Nothing you can’t get from a psychology textbook. But this weekend, when I almost jumped out of a moving vehicle, nothing about what I was feeling felt like a textbook.

There is always a reason to feel meaningless. Always. Before, these feelings only haunted me at night but now they follow me whenever, wherever. Saturday morning, I sat by the ledge of my balcony thinking, “If I just crawled over, closed my eyes and let go, face forwards, it’d all be over.” I kept asking myself questions like, “It’s only the third floor, what if I don’t do it right? Am I really that worried about the pain? I am really such a girl aren’t I? But if I die, who will take my place to be this overworked surgeon/rare disease advocate researcher person?” 

And it’s always that last question that saves me. Because I don’t know who will be the person I want to be if I don’t do it. I don’t know anyone else that could do it with such dedication and compassion, I could only ever trust myself to do this job. Somehow, all the time, my lack of confidence in my future both push me to end my life and save it at the same time.

The worst part is, I feel guilty. I feel guilty because I’m lucky I even have a top notch university education. I should take advantage of all the amazing opportunities in my life right now. Coming back from Africa, I just think how many of the kids there would starve to learn and here I am, struggling. How unworthy am I, how undeserving am I of what I have been privileged with?

I feel guilty because there are people who expect me to succeed, who believe in me, people who I’ve made lose their self esteem, people who think I’m this perfect being with such a mysterious mind. It all sounds too good to be true. When all I am right now is pathetic.

The one thing I felt, the only thing I had that was constant since the beginning of when I started to be so self loathing was him. I still wait, everyday, for him to say “hi” or anything. But nothing ever happens. And I know that he is someone so irreplaceable to me but I was never much to him. I was just as transient, just as disposable as any other person in his life. And I should of understood that. But I chose not to. I still wait because oh, I don’t know. Is it so wrong for me to feel this way? Is it wrong? I know he’s not perfect but he has someone who thinks he is. Is it wrong for me to think that even though some days I can’t stand to look at myself? 

I’m terrified of being by myself. I wish he was here so badly, as anything, anyone. I have questions. God, I have so many questions. I know he probably thinks I have it all figured out but I don’t, and I look up to him a lot whether he understands it or not. My God, I wish he was here right now.

There’s no one to talk to.

I feel ugly and stupid and disgusting and worthless.  I feel like the biggest fraud. I’m so disgusting I get why he’d never want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to be seen with me either.

I want to cut myself every time I do something wrong to remind myself and count up all the reasons why I am not good enough.

I wish something would kill me already. A natural disaster, or a break in, or a drive by shooting, or a car accident. Anything.

I keep provoking my dad to get mad and more and more frustrated with me just so he’ll hit me, or stab me or push me or something. Something to hurt me.

We all try to convince ourselves we’re good enough but really most of us are not even close to enough.. So we’re just all lying ourselves and I’m lying to myself that I am even anything. I don’t want to live as nothing. I don’t want to live like that. Everyone has something. He’s smart. I’m not. I’m stupid. I’ll never even compare to him intellectually. I’ll always be some dumb kid who can’t even do math. Why would he want to be associated with someone so stupid, so unstable, so below average and keeps to themselves, who’s too shy to even look him in the eyes. There are so many pretty people in the world that I shouldn’t even be attractive. I feel like shit and no one really likes unhealthy people. I’m not talented. What’s the point of living

No one gets it. No one understands. When I say to someone I’m not in the mood, they think, oh this girl thinks some homework and music is taking up too much of her time, she can’t time manage. That’s not it. I have to deal with this constant weight of knowing that I can’t love the person I want to love. I can’t touch the person that I care about. I can’t even speak to them. And on top of that I’m managing to keep my grades above 90 and music and my project at the lab. It’s pressure because this project is all on me. All the results that will be published will be my results. As in I have to get all the results. As in like it’s a full time job pretty much. It’s pressure because you want to do a good job. Because if not, then I don’t stand for what I stand for any more. And everything is so much harder because of how sad I am. It makes every task 10x harder. And it might not seem like much, but for a single person, it’s emotionally overwhelming, the pressure to do exceptional when you feel like you want to kill yourself. And that just translates into physical illness. And I don’t connect with anyone at school, I don’t talk to anyone, I don’t think anyone is trustworthy or worth my time or genuine or anything out of the ordinary and it’s all a fucking blackhole of shit and death and self hatred.

I know someone is going to think, well you should love yourself first before whatever. Fuck that shit. Because the only reason anything makes any sense is because I hate myself. If I loved myself, then nothing in the world would make any sense.

It’s wanting to know that makes us matter.

For so long I’ve tried to be things like objective, rational and restricted. I think in rigorous fields, people hold up these characteristics as something extremely desirable. Complete objectivity and rationality, destitute of emotion and spontaneity.

Well I’m done trying to be that because it’s not who I am. I feel as if I should instead be associated with the romanticism writers who were keen on this idea of “spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings” such as Keats, or Byron. I prefer that over order and balance.

I feel rather than trying to catalogue what I feel. And I know I’m an aspiring scientist, I’m supposed to be all these things such as objective and rational but I’ve also grown to love analysing literature and it’s so interesting to see how the ideas of writers and historians juxtapose the ideas of mathematicians and physicists. It’s even more interesting when they are combined together like when Fermat’s last theorem is analogised with sex.

As a scientist I feel like I’m always trying to find order, or patterns. I’m constantly trying to control nature, constantly trying to decipher nature, because when we understand something, we can gain control over it. Right?

But as a person, I think our desire to order the world is nothing but futile attempts at trying to control things we shouldn’t. We can come up with a mathematical model of drips from a tap but once the drips becomes irregular, the whole model is blown apart. Each successive drip sets up the condition for the next one, the smallest variation makes us seem stupid. 

I think sometimes people in math and biology or chemistry are too focused on the end result, the final answer or product that we forget to learn, to grow, to enjoy, to discover. Things are easy once they’re discovered, the point is to discover them. That processes of discovery is what is crucial. Comparing what we’re looking for misses the point. It’s wanting to know that makes us matter. Otherwise we’re going out the way we came in. Sometimes we need to connect the dots and draw a conclusion for ourselves and forget what the answer should be.

And I know I waver between focusing too much on the final result and this as well. It’s mostly because I can’t find what is undesirable about me that he doesn’t like. And so I think if I am this perfect being, better than anyone he’ll ever come across that I win. But I think that everything I’ve said thus far is a much more accurate depiction of who I am on the inside and who I want to become. And I think this is what makes me different from all the people he will meet in his lifetime. I really think so.

I’ve finally found a reason I see acceptable to present to someone as to why I am interested in diseases. At first it’s hard to understand someone like me saying that I don’t want to be a doctor for the patients, I want to be a doctor for the diseases. People believe that’s inhumane for some reason?

For me, it’s not about the answer or the cure or even saving lives, it’s the search that is meaningful, that is interesting; treating patients is only the practical application. This search involves a very deep understanding of basic biological mechanisms and pathways. That is what I am so interested in. The enigma. And even if things like cancer will never be cured, I think that is okay. I think the path we take in an attempt to find a cure is what is important. Because through our attempts we learn so much. Things we’d never expect to find. 

If the answers are in the back of the book I can wait, but what a drag. Better to struggle on knowing that failure is final.

What a cringe post now that I’m looking at it a day later.

Selfishly, I wish he’d go to grad school here. I wish he’d come here so we can sit in the same library. I want to know that he’s here while I’m going through things. 

It’s not fair. Everyone here sucks. No one even compares to him in my mind. I’m not talking about a boyfriend, I’m talking about someone to relate to. It’s not fair because there’s no competition on my side. It’s not fair because I think I’m good enough but I’m still nothing. And if it were anyone else, I swear the roles would be reversed.

I’m the idiot smiling like a dumbass at my math TA because the way he talks and commands the class is the exact same cringe worthy thing he’d pull if he was to TA a class. And it reminds me of him so much, I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. But I think it’d be the cutest thing ever if he did TA a class. And then I’m thinking about how attractive I think he is is just ridiculous and maybe it is.

I want to be able to face him one day and not feel a sting of rejection but at the same time I just want to tell him how much he means to me in person, in a non crying manner, so there’s a voice to the words. I don’t really ever get a reaction or anything from him, it’s more or less indifference, or sarcasm or belittling of me. Sometimes I feel like if I was like this with anyone else, there’s no way they’d just…shrug it off. Or am I too optimistic? Or maybe to innocent and simple minded?

I know I’m a good person and I genuinely care about him a lot and I’m really hard working and I miss him and every time I think about how much I miss him I cry. Whether I’m waiting for bio lecture to start or I’m staring out the window at the library, I cry. When I don’t know how to do a math problem, I think about how easy he’d think it’d be and how I’d completely blank out if he were here and thank god he isn’t because I’d make a fool of myself. 

And it all seems so surreal because he’s not really in my life other than in my imagination. That makes me so sad. I think I sound like a two year old and this post is the most ineloquent thing ever but it’s how I feel right now.

And no matter how sad I am, how hurt I am how whatever I am, I wouldn’t ever ever ever have it any other way.

I hope he’s doing well right now.. He worries me all the time even though he barely exists really. Half of me is worried about my own life and the other half worries about how he’s doing. I want him to be great and successful and everything he ever wanted so badly. I believe in him so much.

The Girl Who Cried Tears of Blood.

It’s like 2AM in the morning and I was officially having a panic attack about my biology midterm tomorrow when I decided to watch a nat. geographic documentary. I’ve already watched this one but I was really hoping that this “world renowned” haematologist doctor would follow up. Boy, was I disappointed. Nothing has happened since to demystify this case of a girl bleeding out of…well…apparently just her skin holes.

Maybe it’s because it’s 2AM in the morning, and maybe it’s because I just watched a rerun of an hour long documentary leading up to the same anticlimactic conclusion I got two years ago but I am pissed off. 


First, a quick recap, if you haven’t heard about this. So this girl from india just spontaneously bleeds from her eyes, scalp, chest, hands, feet, whatever. There’s no pain, no cuts or bruises, she just bleeds from her skin.

So the first part of the documentary just features this girl Twinkle and her mother running around india looking for answers to this “mysterious condition”. WHICH, I might add, was also complete BULLSHIT because one of these indian holistic doctor people started talking about how if there is a balance in the body he could cure cancer, AIDS, diabetes. That just cracked me up like it was nobody’s business in the middle of the fucking night. LIKE, EXCUSE ME? You can cure cancer just by taking three pulses on someone’s wrist? Where are you even getting three pulses? Are you sure you’re not just taking the same exact pulse? And I’d like to see you try curing cancer with some herbs and yoga. Maybe brain tumours can just slide out of your head if you hold a nice upside down position in yoga for long enough.

OK OK, so this Dr. George person meets Twinkle for the first time in the documentary, because of course, when the indians can’t figure it out, all the world renowned americans come over. He examines her, does a bunch of tests and it’s all test tubes, centrifuges for a good ten minutes and then he reaches his final diagnosis: liar, liar pants on fire. There is nothing wrong with her. Everything about her is fine. The blood isn’t even coming from her tear ducts, in fact, he never even sees her bleeding start. And of course, she is always conveniently on the toilet or watching TV IN THE OTHER ROOM when she starts-a-bleedin’. But then Twinkle starts crying, and he feels bad and so he’s like we should monitor you 24 hours in the US. WHEN I ARRANGE FOR THIS. THE END.


OK, so what actually ends up happening? FUCK IF I KNOW!

I’M THE ONE UP AT 2AM REGOOGLING THIS SHIT THREE YEARS LATER. (This Dr. George character was also a little hard to find considering he’s world renowned)

WAS THE GIRL EVEN SOMEONE TO FEEL BAD FOR? NO. Because in the beginning of the documentary, she announces to everyone that she doesn’t study if anyone tells her to, and wastes her time fighting with boys. IMMEDIATE TURN OFF ON MY PART, I wanted to punt across a football field.

And the thing is, I could handle it if the answer was, “Welp! She’s a liar!” Because that wouldn’t be so bad, it would still an interesting documentary to laugh at. I just hate these documentaries or any event that hypes things up like this and then nothing ever actually gets done or carried over from where they left off. Like when you go get a physical and half-mention to your doctor that you’ve been tired recently, so he or she tells you that you should really get your iron level tested and you’re like, “yea…that’ll totally happen…” but never do and your doctor never follows up because who really gives a shit and everything is fine in the end because you just needed to stop staying up to watch reruns of South Park and go to bed on time. That’s how everyone handles the situation. Except Twinkle hasn’t been feeling more tired than usualshe’s been bleeding out of her fucking face holes

And you can think that it’s just a hoax but the whole documentary ends on a note where the mother is so determined to follow through with everything. If she wasn’t, then WHO CARES. But George is all like yeah ok maybe some time in the future…..or not…and high tails out of the country.

I mean I’m not a doctor yet, but this shit is so simple to prove, and I guess it’s awkward to be the one to prove that they’re lying but I would TOTALLY WANT TO DO IT. I’d totally scream in their faces, “HA! YOU’RE A LIAR! CALLED IT!”. And it’s so simple. I’d just stay with the girl for a week. Not leave her side. Just watch her the entire time. Simple enough, because apparently she bleeds so often and always at such critical moments and enough that she can’t go to school.

Oh man.

Makes me want to go to india though, for some lights festival. But I ain’t doing any cleansing though. Those holy waters probably contain some brain hijacking parasite naegleria fowleri for all i know. 

Also, you can watch the documentary here: http://vodlocker.com/lgp1ko9mymii

A really dark place.

I’m in a really dark and bad place right now. I don’t quite know how I got here in less than a month. I don’t even want to go into details of why I am feeling the way I am. I just know I’ve never really contemplated suicide like I did tonight. I’ve never saw it as such a relieving idea as I have tonight.

And I’m really scared.

And I’m really messed up right now.