I have to find a reason to get out, otherwise I would not get out. It's easier to stay locked up inside. There's still some rationality left in me I suppose, telling me, berating me for being the way I am right now. It is in conflict with the... darker side of myself. The rope from their tug-of-war snapped, the force pushing me out.
The wind is strong and warm today. It's a bright day today. I breathe in the air and I wish that as I breathe it, I can extract those qualities and embody them. The winter's bleakness still remains and I know today's just another lie. Tomorrow, the gray clouds will come back and laugh at me for ever believing that things will get better. And I'm still cold.
I'm walking, at a much slower pace than I normally go at. There is no motivation behind my steps. My mind is catatonic, but somehow my body still moves in its own accord. Perhaps it's trying to break away from my mind. Far away from the darkness that is starting to form. Even though I am moving more slowly, I feel like I am investing more energy in each step. Each step, heavier. Each thought, more pessimistic. I'm the rain draining away through the pipes and evaporating.
The wind blows open my coat and I become uncomfortable at the act. I self-consciously tried to prevent it from exposing my clothes underneath. I am in no way indecent, but I just don't like revealing myself. I don't like revealing myself, neither with my appearance nor my heart. But there's a danger to keeping everything wrapped up so tightly. I'm bound to be engulfed one day.
I have never been so afraid in my entire life. The fear of realizing that you're worthless and everything you strive for in life is meaningless. That your time and your breaths are better lived if given to someone great, but who has already deceased. That everything you had done in your life confirms the fact that you have nothing better to offer. Your body, an empty vessel. The potential you once believed you had, now gone. How do you cope with that realization?
My glass house cracked in the storm late last night because I realized.
I broke down. My composure broke. And I cried so heavily, so endlessly, that I feel deprived of air. There wasn't enough air in the room. The tears came so quickly, blurring my vision like fogged up windows during winter. It reminded me of the time when I was young and I lost sight of my grandmother and my brother when we were out. The sheer panic, the feeling of abandonment overwhelmed me and the tears came instantly. The tears came even quicker this time, because I wasn't just physically lost-- I lost my spirit. I spoke broken words, reflecting just how broken I was.
I don't know when I started to teach myself to hold everything inside. I don't know why I told myself that I can't cry in front of others. I don't know how I can bury so much of my misery deep within without collapsing under its weight. I don't know why I thought these were the right things to do. But every once in a while, I am reminded that, it's okay to cry... that it's not a sign of weakness.
My parents tell me that you cry because you feel mistreated. I disagree. I cry because I despair. I cry because I don't know any other way to express the anguish I feel. I cry because for the moment, it's all I know how to do.
I'm weary. I'm empty. I'm hollow. They say home is where the heart is. I don't know where my heart has gone. I'm so utterly lost.
I used to believe that a person's worth is measured by the amount of people he or she is surrounded by. I no longer believe it. A person's worth is measured by the love and respect his or her friends have for the person and by the love and respect the person has for him or herself. I don't know how others love or respect me. I used to be so tortured by my own thoughts of how others thought of me (actually, I still am). But resignation washed over me. I had bought a Claddagh ring to tell myself that I love myself, to remind me that I must love myself. I stopped wearing the ring. I stopped loving myself.
I saw a child today. I looked at it with sad eyes and I wish that it would have an easier time growing up and finding itself than I did. I thought of the people I love and I wish that I am a better person than they think I am, if they ever thought so. I thought of myself and in my mind, the dreams are replaced by a dark emptiness.
