Hello, are there any pet store here sa bacolod nga ga sell a Fancy Rat or any Rat as a pet not a Hamster or Guinea pigs i really want a “hated” pet so bad (please dont judge me hahahah) suggest please.
and do any of you here has pet rat?
Hello po, I’m a first-year student from NU, and I’m planning to transfer to La Salle next school year. I’m a bit worried and wondering if all or at least some of my major subjects will be credited there. Afaik, minor subjects are usually credited without a problem, but I’m unsure about my majors.
I may not be very good at describing myself, but I always knew I wasn’t like this before. Still, let me try. I was beautiful—not necessarily in appearance, but in how I saw the world around me. I’d see myself as a cloudy person. My thoughts, my every moment, were brushstrokes on the vibrant canvas of my life. I talked about anything and everything online or in real life, and somehow, whatever I said would turn into a funny joke. I might even dare to claim I was funny because who I was, was just a happy boy with eyes that danced when he laughed—a boy who lit his own torch and held himself together because he had a world he loved.
But as time passed, a storm that many had warned me about arrived, which I call my teenage years. They say puberty is really difficult and not the easiest to bear, but I wasn’t ready for the way it hit me. I felt a rock through my heart and mind. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me every second of the day. In the deepest corners of my mind, I always knew something was off, like a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes anymore.
In just a few months, I saw a big difference in myself. I had convinced myself that I was not enough. I couldn’t stop the thoughts raining in my head. I felt empty while sinking into quicksand. What used to be light became a hard burden, a constant pain in every part of me that seemed never-ending.
That’s when it started: the insecurity that gnawed at me day by day. I became obsessed with looking in the mirror, making sure every flaw was there—my body was too thin, my face heavy plump, my teeth unsightly. Does it ever end? Everything became like a monster’s hand to tame. I never had a choice but to accept my flaws, but it was the hardest thing to do. I felt so small in every day’s journey. My life became a series of challenges to overcome rather than be cherished. I looked down because I couldn’t stop overthinking how everyone perceived me.
Month after month, I realized I was officially not the person I used to be. I couldn’t stop everything that felt like it was attacking me through my heart. A house of storms was my home. Thunder so loud shook the walls of my room, which was piled with clothes, plates, unmade bed and all the regrets was my own atmosphere, keeping me in that bed that was hard to get out of.
I'm stuck in a state of doing nothing but existing. I force myself to stay sane amidst the chaos, but it's becoming impossible.
My energy is gone, and I feel trapped in a cycle of despair. I can still move, but every action feels like a huge effort. It's as if I'm drowning in my own inability to escape the mess, and finding a way out seems like an impossible dream.
Even though I could still sleep, it became an escape. I slept longer, trying to avoid facing the mess that had become my life.
When I finally woke up, it was more like a harsh reminder of how bad things had become. The thought of dealing with it was too much to bear. I wished I could stay asleep forever to avoid the reality that awaited.
At this point i’ve become too familiar with myself who i am really are focus on every part of me was an everyday goal
does it ever end? this taste of contempt?
but i always knew everything goes up even how deep i have been so i keep myself standing in the world trying to live just so maybe something good will come
i’ve learned so much about life yet its still hard to answer all the questions myself have made why in billions of living people why does it have to be me? Why does it feel like im the only one that is unlucky. At a young age im trying to find the reason for this stage that seems to be a must to be going through. I don't know what's true, because i am full of anger which festers and grows in my heart.
And i always question myself do i wanna die? yes do i think about it everyday? no
But, my wounds are always open, my stitches break, and the staples just ... fall. Because of that, I over romanticize my life because all I could ever think about is how this pain is too much and I need to do something to gain from it - even if the happy meter never reaches its fully capacity. I romanticize my struggles all the time, faking optimism like it's a skill because I need it so much.
I'm not saying that I was wrong for doing that because if I'm being honest, for me, it was better than therapy. I learned a lot from trying hard to see through it. I controlled my emotions, connected with my inner soul, and most importantly, I fought - hard. But I do wonder how it feels to not try so hard. To not force myself to fight because I'm not suffering; because I'm okay.
But you know what? I’m still here. I over-romanticized, and I’m still here. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from it, it’s that there are going to be times in life that are uncomfortable, times that are so freaking hard, but we can always work with what we’ve got, even if it’s not a hundred percent real. You might be forcing yourself to smile today, but at least you did, and you should be proud of that. It means you tried, and trying is always a good thing.
And all because of this mazelike, hard path, I wanted to be a writer. I don’t really claim that to everyone because I know myself better than anyone, and I know I may never achieve that. I’m not smart enough to fill everything with words that are truly expressive, and I’m too lazy to think. And that’s all okay. I always cope by writing, and all I write about is how hard life is because in every part of my work there’s an underlying thread of hope. It’s all I ever wanted to hear from someone, and all I got is me. I write to read every word, reminding myself how hard I’m going through it. It pains me, yet I find comfort in it. I acknowledge this journey to the point where I can’t describe myself without this grief. And to tell you the truth, I am really trying to love myself because no one can stab me hard more than I can. My thoughts are really magical—they create scenarios that put scars on me.
i am so scared of feeling sad it is something i am very afraid of after all this. but i couldn’t escape it so its just me trying to learn how to ignore it and its working
For the longest time, remaining in the heart of this struggle, I met people who saw me for who I truly am and stayed with me during my darkest moments. They knew I could be better than I was, and they taught me that I never really wanted to end my life. That realization made me understand that I didn’t actually want to die—I just wanted to live. The world seemed unfair to me, like every rock of the mountains was given to me to carry. But despite all this heavy weight on my back, I’ve always known that I have the brightest wings that no one can compare.
In my downfall, in the endless dark pole, I found some call in my dark thoughts. Death will never be a solution for a person asking for a revolution. Maybe the world isn’t always good to us; maybe the world couldn’t carry it all, so it gave it to a person who will conquer it all. The time will come for me to heal. I will learn to bounce back, just like I feel.