For most of my life I’ve felt that we have to earn love from others. A part of me has always felt that bright lights never had a place near me — an undeniable outcast, hiding in plain sight. Along the way, who we are is just a collection of identity traits that resonated with us — a series of memories, emotions, beliefs, ideologies.. For me, I’ve failed to find originality in the development of what our “true form” is supposed to be.. The struggle within, that periodically impacts the average person, chronically consumes my busy mind. For a long time, I had myself convinced that having the ability to process multi-layered consciousness was some strength or superpower…. In truth, the saying “ignorance is bliss” magnifies the falsities that manipulate me daily. The problem with me is that my brain is wired different. Most people seem to enjoy life for the most part.. I’ve developed a tendency to find darkness in all the beautiful places. Which poses the constant mental battle within; do I have it all figured out? Am I seeing the world in its true colour, or is my view masked / veiled from seeing the saturated beauty that the rest of the world seems to thrive off of? How can I look at the same thing as someone else, & feel my stomach twist, as they smile? Why can I love so strongly, yet never feel loved by anything?
Buried deep within, there has to be a better version that got left behind; the wrong path taken; accidental detour… However, can we truly kill ourselves without dying, and become reborn fully with the scars of what feels like a thousand years of self destruction? Am I just the fucking crazy person that I’ve been called my entire life? How long do we have to wander, before returning from lostness becomes undoable? As daunting as it is, part of me refuses to believe that we’re permanently locked inside of our broken minds. Surely there’s no clear indicator of where that faith/belief comes from.. slowly I’m losing touch with it, but it’s always had a place within me. There’s not really an easy way to reflect or write about how you feel without sounding like a whiny little bitch, or a “look at me, my life is hard” — 95% of the time we don’t even cross the radar of people that know us, yet we’re all playing the lead role in our unpublished fucking stories.. Alternatively to all of this, how comical is it, or human of us to pretend there’s constancy in anything.. It seems in reality every nice deed is layered with a price tag, placing people in unjustified emotional debt, for things they rarely even asked for. Aimlessly scrolling social media feeds, inbox messages, photos, to find yourself a year from now, heart broken, left wondering how the fuck you ended up back to square one with 1000 extra pounds of emotional baggage added to your already existing mountain of problems.. I close my eyes & try to embrace those who found their way.. I see people on the street who genuinely look happy, surely it may be a mask, but you can often tell.. I guess it’s kinda like an addict can always sense an addict.. To me, it’s the same thing.. you can’t bullshit a bullshitter.. I think to myself, where did they come from? Were they fed with a golden spoon, or did they find their way back from the grave & recreate their own identity? Did they figure out the formula to repair a broken mind? Or do they come from unbroken families, with daily dinners & their life paved before it even began? Above all else.. the real interesting ones are those who have all that and still manage to fuck everything up.. How broken must they be, knowing they just had to walk straight, and somehow fell down the fucking stairs 20 yards away from where they began..? Poetic justice in literary expression, huh?
Words, words, words.. who cares? Eventually we’ll all be forgotten. We’ll stop chasing the love that isn’t our own.. but truthfully, I am motivated to figure it all out.. We’re not guaranteed another day, so despite ramblings of my troubled mind, rest assured that even at rock bottom, there’s still hope of climbing out of it. As I dig deeper into the fucking abyss of life, you do pickup on things that may be hard to digest, but most things healing, are 100% out of our control. All we can do is try our best to tap into them, & let the elements that are far more powerful than our minds do the healing. We can tell ourselves the same false reality everyday, but that will never make it our true reality.. Those worries / burdens of the past, will just eat at us until we are the murders of our own lives.. Do we sit & watch our own demise, or risk the chase against darkness, in hopes we find ourselves enjoying the warmth of beauty one day? As obvious as it may be, I still can’t confidently say yes.. I’m better at giving advice than taking it..
I do know one thing though, I’m sick of being myself.
Writing from // July 2022