Hello. My name is Lyra. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.
I am 18 years old, a 3rd year college student taking up Language & Literature at a premiered university in the Philippines. I am a Filipina, yes, and nothing else (unless you count the tiny drop of ancestral blood in me, in which case I am also Malaysian and Chinese). I am a pansexual, though I have had no sexual experiences with anyone as of yet. I like to think of myself as a creative soul, until recently. That was when I discovered that I had no soul. *wails like a banshee and claws at your face*
I like (maybe even love, but I can’t be sure) a lot of things, but I also hate a lot of things. For example, on the one hand I love skies, nature, people’s eyes, music & art & literature & film (a.k.a. hipster shit), the internet, culture, food, sleeping, and thinking endlessly about things. On the other hand, I hate human beings, socialization, responsibility, prejudice & injustice & oppression & bigotry (a.k.a. Anti-Freedom Fighters things) mainstream radio fare, mediocre writing, pretentious literature, and thinking endlessly about things. I would say I’m a complicated person, but I hate to impose.
I am also a walking brochure of mental and personality disorders. Among those that I have self-diagnosed are: neurosis, analysis paralysis, social anxiety, narcissism (but narcissists aren’t supposed to know they’re narcissists so IDK), mild OCD, passive-aggression, bipolar I, and depression. I do hope I don’t sound like I’m saying this just to sound cool (well, maybe if I were still 12, but not anymore). Anyway, you’ll gather about as much from my posts, so you be the judge.
Generally I’m an okay person to be with, as long as I’m not stuck in some sort of rut. If I’m steady, I’m fun (or so I gather). If I don’t have a hold of myself, there are only two things you can do: get away from me as fast as possible, or brace yourself for the slaughter show that is my emotional unraveling. I tend to do that with friends. Most don’t put up with it, and just go away until I regain my composure. I’d say that was wise, except I really wish they wouldn’t go.
I mentioned up there that I consider myself a creative soul, but let me clarify for all intents and purposes that I am a stagnant artist, if there ever was such a thing. I cannot create anything. Many factors are at work to cripple my creativity, but for the most part it is due to my “illnesses”. I can still appreciate beauty, though often with wistful pain. Sometimes I feel like I was born to be an “appreciator” and not a creator.. But if that were so, then how come I feel things churning inside me that want to come out but can’t because they don’t know how to take form–or rather, I don’t know how to form them? What does the existence of these ideas mean for an “appreciator” such as me? But well, that’s not your problem, and for my sanity’s sake (not that I have much sanity to begin with), I don’t think about it too much anymore, either.
I like talking about myself, as you may have noticed. I also am in love with music. I literally cannot go a day without any form of music (except mainstream radio fare. I most definitely could do without that). I sing in my head if I can’t hear music anywhere else. It keeps me alive, cliche as it may sound. I also used to draw. I hate the human race, and I hate touching people who aren’t my friends. It gives me the creeps when strangers’ skin come in contact with me. God damn, if that ain’t dysfunctional living then I don’t know what is.
Okay, I think I covered enough ground to give you a good picture of what I am like as a human being. Key terms: clingy, self-centered, angry, insane. Yep, that about does it.
Oh, right. Er, here’s a recent photo of me. As you hurl your dinner into the nearest available toilet, do keep in mind that I am a biological female. Hellew.