Found this in my drafts, dated back November 24th. Late post, with lots of blanks for you to fill.
I’m writing. Writing to you, simply because I want to let someone know how I feel, but also because speaking feelings comes difficult to me. Forced and unnatural. I’m writing. Writing because there’s more drama for the imagination but less drama in reality. Cleaner and simpler, but always left open for interpretation for the reader.
So earlier on I mentioned how I considered therapy once. Well, it was more like three or four times. I wanted to do it, but I really didn’t have the guts for it. I’ve imagined myself plenty. Just sitting there, silent, because in the end its hard to express how one feels. It’s easier to evoke happiness, even when you don’t feel that way. It’s easier to share happiness. Laughter and joy feels good to spread around, but sadness, shame or any negative emotion is harder to share, especially face to face, at least to me. It feels that I’ve learnt to smile and laugh, making it an instinctive habit.
It’s tiring sometimes. Days like today, makes me want to run away from everything. I want to be someplace where nobody knows who I am. It doesn’t matter where, just as long as nobody knows who I am. I could be in a busy city street, strolling, not having to care about my problems or anybody else’s’ for that matter. I would exchange smiles with passing strangers; and we can leave it at that. A genuine, positive, interaction. Nothing more, nothing less. I need not know them, they need not know me. I could be in the country field, sleeping under a tree, the bits of sunlight passing through the leaves, creating small spots of sunlight on my skin. I’d be happy knowing that I’m far away.
What I’ve really learnt in life is that pain and discomfort is temporary. The unease I’m feeling now is temporary, but at times, I come to the awful realization that happiness and excitement is also temporary. It’s like holding onto things that doesn’t really exist. A mirage, perhaps? Each interaction with another person is like a drug. Sometimes the interaction goes so well, it causes our senses to feel overjoyed and excited; and other times, it goes wrong.
Now, I feel very confused. I want to be logical, but I cant. I feel like a thermometer, changing as the environment changes. I feel weak, because I aspire to be a thermostat. I want to have the ability to control my emotions. This constant battle with myself then becomes tiring. I feel conflicted. I dislike self-pity, and being felt sorry for. Maybe that’s why I don’t like openly talking about emotions. All the negative outpour makes me feel like I’m seeking sympathy. But the thing is, truth be told, I think every human being secretly wants to feel sympathy and empathy. I feel like I’m talking in a circle now.
The worst part is when you feel really down that you let everything that’s happened to you in life affect you. I think I’m pretty good at limiting the thoughts of the past affect me for the most part, but when you feel down, you become weak and you let things get to you easily. Past is past, right? We go through experiences, to learn and to grow from them. I’ve learnt a lot, and probably still have a lot to learn though. I want to be impactful one day and teach others that it’s okay. But before that day happens, I still have a lot to understand, learn and master. I need to be able to forgive. I keep thinking I have, but I really haven’t. It’s very tiring.
So reader, read. My words are for you to read, and for you to interpret.