When life gets hurtful, people say there are no words. There are always words…the real problem, is that some cannot put aside their ego or selfishness long enough, or are not strong or honest enough to say them. Because words make how you feel into reality. Words like Love, sorry, promise, loyal, hurt or goodbye. They put a part of you out there in the world in some way, to be acknowledged in some way, to be seen. Some people are not real enough, to use words.
If there was a word for this, what I feel now, above all others, it would be conflict. It was even a conflict, as to whether or not to write here, yet, or ever again. Because I currently have little tolerance for anyone or anything. I have depleted people skills other than wanting near everyone to just fuck off and leave me to my own devices, and no desire to share personal feeling with anyone, let alone that one person. I can likely rest safely assured however, that he will not read this, and has happily turned away, seemingly secure in the knowledge, that he never has to set eye on me, my writings, or anything else to do with me ever again. And I have accepted that is what he wants. I have accepted many things in that regard.
Me however, I am caught/torn in this intense situation. A cocoon if you will. It is this painfully real transformation of one thing into another. A myriad of truth and painful realisations.
It’s like piecing this puzzle together, as as it all slides into place a light comes on, and then the ground drops from beneath your feet. All you feel is falling, and after a while you stop fighting it…
It has a lot of different feels, and lack thereof. The common factor, is that it all feels so fucking hard to do. Every little thing. Talking, eating, moving…and then you go to sleep (if at all possible), wake up, and it’s the same all over again. It takes the form of anger, irritability, resentment, hurt or just a deep chasm of emptiness. It is a near complete lack of sensory input.
It has been a calm rational thought ‘I should kill myself’ or ‘I am nothing’ and it didn’t even feel like sadness. It can be very cognitive, like -the world is an evil place, and people are heartless. You just feel the light drain from your eyes, and the eyes drain from your smile, and wonder if anything can ever bring it back.
Then, in stark contrast, there is this opposing desire to be strong and overcome. There is a passion to prove, that if I can make it through a minute, a day, and a week, then there is hope to survive another yet. And then defiance, opportunity, plans and other things creep in and push, whisper, push…to keep going. To do better. That there is more.
So, here’s where it changes, just one last time. Just as others have made choices, so have I. Only these ones are honest, resolute, progressive and some, concrete.
They are selfishly only for me, and surging with primitive desire to not only survive, but succeed. They are raw, spontaneous, laden with fear, anticipation and change, but I’m making them anyway. I can no longer stand still. Because if I do…I won’t make it. I can’t just exist any more.
Hence, I’m not sure what you all do for shits and giggles on a Friday, but I’m pretty sure it’s not diagrammatic reasoning, cognitive ability, personality factoring, verbal aptitude, inductive reasoning, psychometric and situational judgement testing. But today that has been my program, and a doorway to other things. Out of this closed dark room in my head and my house, drapes pulled shut.
I have this world of possibilities and new options in front of me, and I have to piece it all together again, but I will, because I can. I have done this before, clawed my way out of the dark…it sharpened my nails.
This time the hole is darker, deeper, and full of the broken bones of promises with debris of scattered dreams…but this time I know which way is up. And I will do it the only way I have ever done anything. Alone.
I just…need a minute.