What happened to us? When did we lose ourselves?
’’And when his garden died, he died too.’’
’’He often worried about you.’’ —’’I wonder why did this child become so silent. She never says when she’s afraid, even if she’s terrified, she never expresses when she's sad. There’s just a blank on her face that doesn’t let you guess anything. How will she ask for help when she’ll need it? Will she even ask anymore? Or will she just let herself die, with that impassive face and hollow interior. When did she become like this? This is not what I wanted. This is not how I asked her to live her life. What went wrong? Why don’t you know? Why do you just stare at me? Why don’t you know!? What happened to you too? I don’t understand anything..Why won’t you answer me? You’re not even real, are you? You seem so glacial..Right, of course…because you're a figment of her murky mind. This is not you, I know. Because the real you would just embrace me and cry with me. But the real you can’t do that anymore.’’
At times, there’s this very annoying and blunt quote of Anne Sexton that echoes in my mind. It goes like: ’’I felt an unspeakable sense of loneliness’’ or ’’I was feeling unspeakably lonely’’. I do believe it’s the second one that’s more accurate but I can’t be too sure unless I check it online. That I won’t do since it’s not that important anyways. I’m unsure of information that’s in my head most of the time. It starts like this, I guess.
At first you start doubting your knowledge on even the silliest and predictable things. It’s fine, it’s fine! It happened to me too. It’s a sign of the times. That’s what others will say to ease the worry of losing your wits.
But that’s not what’s eating me anyway. What I believe it’s happening is harder to put into words because of some reasons I don't understand well enough to explain. To be more dramatic I’d also add that those reasons are hard to accept as well. That’s a lie now, though.
I accept(with slight disgust) what I’ve come to slowly allow to unveil from the rotten pits of my emotional spectrum. Slowly being the main key-word. As I said before, I’m just recently re-assuming ownership of those reasons.
God, I do hate commitment, even when it is to my own feelings.
Anyways, in case focus was lost, as I’m sure it was, I was talking about self doubt. More specifically about the reasons that lead to self doubt. My reasons, mind you, reader. This is about me. ME. Ew. Why does it feel so gross to talk about yourself..?
Ah. Ah! Wait. I know. Let me quote myself: God, I do hate commitment, even when it is to my own feelings. Hah. It’s so much more fun to roast yourself than heal. Toxic, toxic. To some it’s a coping mechanism, to others is a carefully disguised deprecatory habit. And to a pitiful bunch, it’s a desperate last thread they hang on.
If anyone worries, don’t. I’m not cool enough to have self-roast as my great exit from the play of life. No, no. I’ll probably beg, cry, shout, curse, threaten and finally faint, all in that order, when good ol’ Death will stop by. There’s only one scenario where I’ll just go with them without throwing a justified tantrum.
If I manage to fill this metaphorical hole in my gut. I have no idea when but I lost my confidence. Confidence is vital for someone like me, a greedy individual with poor human complexity. My equilibrium of the human holy trinity, the mental, physical and spiritual, is nothing but a scarce, chaotic space.
( Others might/will disagree.)
I still crave something, though. My closest guess would be success. But as much as I think it’s a good thing to be perceived as an ambitious person, I know that deep down I don’t have that fierceness, that savagery. I only had a self-crafted counterfeit. And let me tell you..Oh, it hurts to admit that I only now realise I have lied to myself almost from the start. A nauseating feeling of pride churns and struggles against this acidic wave of truth.
You know your pride is toxic when you’re trying to heal from something and the said feeling just pops-up like it’s their time to shine.
If I had a dollar for all the times I should’ve listened to my head and not my pride …Ha, ha! I’d still be poor but a little more relaxed. I think I’m losing hair because of the stress too.
Is that normal for a person in (almost!) their mid-twenties??
No, but the truth is I’m worried. I’m worried I’m losing myself. The passions I have, most of them start to fade away from my preferences. That wouldn’t be completely terrifying if I didn't think they were my identity, believing I found my path.
I am who I am so I no longer need to struggle and find my way just like most people I know. I’m safe. I’m on the safest island of them all and it's called Certainty.
But it all went downhill. I don’t know when or how but I feel like I lost something, as if it withered away while I was certain of my Certainty VISA.
This brings me back to the beginning of this text. Something that made me think I lost that something longer than I thought and maybe, now, I have cleared my head and heart enough to understand that part of me.
That fragment represents the words of someone I lost. Someone I often dream about. There, they usually complain about my bad attitude, my stubbornness, my sharp tone and my (infamous to them) lack of ambition. They don’t worry about me often. Perhaps they’re used to the fact that I always survive, somehow, even though they never really appreciated my ways.
But seeing them so sad for me, now when they can no longer help me or hug me, made me understand and cry. Crying and crying silently on the right side of my bed, struggling to hold on to the vanishing memory of a 90% bitter, 10% sweet dream.
I lost that something the moment they left this world. I was constantly pushing myself so I’d make it in time for them to see I’m fine. I’m okay. I made it, dad. Don’t worry about me.
I was trying for him but he left. It was his time. But I never stopped doing it. Trying desperately to make it. To prove that I’ll be everything I promised I’ll be. Not even trying for me but for him. My efforts were all for a ghost.
He moved on and I’m still stuck in time but moving forward.
Haha…He’d be so mad. He never wanted this.
He only asked me one thing, one simple cheesy thing. So characteristic and at the same time unusual for him.
He told me to be happy.
Why did I forget that, dad?
How do I find myself?