We all have our struggles. I agree. Each of us contemplate (or not) about the minutest things we need to do, things to get done, people to smile at. We either go through the motions or we consciously battle each action, reiterating the possible consequences of doing something absolutely surprising. There have been numerous days when I have sat in quiet, outward meditation with a tornado raging inside my chest, making it hard for me to breathe because I am constantly trying to suppress the choking sobs that are aching to spill out of the purple treasure box locked in my heart. I was confident that I could keep it locked and safe where it belongs. But I realized that I can surprise myself. I let myself go too far. I let my thoughts wander and left my heart unguarded. (If you want to stop reading, you may. But this is not a sob story about how I did something and now I’m recounting my experience. It is a [probably sad] attempt to throw an objective eye on certain recurring events.)
Inside the privacy of my room, in my mind, and in my heart I’ve long pondered the necessity and need to be rational. I used to be relatively subjective about everything in my life until it started hurting. When you wear your heart on your sleeve, when you easily let another into your mind castle it is difficult to retrieve yourself from them and push them out of the castle. When I looked into the mirror I did not see myself but I saw a figure fashioned by society – meek, nice, happy, friendly, a second thought. I didn’t see what was wrong with that until I saw myself disappearing into my over sized clothes and fake smiles. I couldn’t face the real me simply because I didn’t know her.
If you were to ask me if I have met her yet, I would say no. Not yet. But she is in there somewhere. Past all the sad nights, wounded hands, red eyes, and stories I’ve written, I believe lies the road to discovery. But this path to redemption is fraught with holes and insecurities. It always seems easier to wallow in self hate and self harm. But that isn’t getting me anywhere. I’m still stuck in rewind, going over my memories, inhaling the white noise like bathing salts.
Is there a middle ground? I don’t know. Do things get better? I don’t know. Do I know where to go? I don’t. Do I want to work myself out of this harmful conundrum? I don’t know. As long as there is one person I can talk to then maybe recovery isn’t as bad as it seems to be looking right now. I’ll just leave everything as it is for now, cloaked in presentiments.
P.S: And while you’re thinking or doing your thing listen to ‘Same Dark Places’ by JR JR.