I am a box filled with Lego pieces. Outside I keep it clean, but inside I’m a mess – a mumbo jumbo of colourful pieces waiting to find order. I want to live and feel all the shades and tones of mental and physical experience possible in life because I am horribly limited.
These past few days, I find myself sulking for reasons I don’t even know. Actually, it’s not just recently because by default, my emotional setting is sadness. What used to hold me back a great deal was my valiant attempts to squash negative feelings. I desperately wanted to be happy and the way to do this was to push away all negative emotions and let happiness rise to the surface. I believed that it was sadness that was holding happiness back and if I just moved that feeling aside, the happiness would come skipping on into my life. Now I know that’s not how it works.
“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” - Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper
2013 just strolled in and there’s been two deaths in the family. Both of them have been a big part of my life. I tried my hardest to avoid breathing in the loss that seemed to permeate the air. But I’ve always felt lost. It’s like i’m drowning in the ocean of my thoughts and seeing everyone perfectly okay. “Numbing the pain makes it worst when you finally feel it.” – J.K Rowling
This is the same point of my life where I wallow in all my frustrations and broken ambitions. All the could-have-beens and what-ifs just seem to sprout from the deepest and should-have-been forgotten compartment of my mind. If only it could be done — change fate’s design. I’m broken from the inside and it feels as if the world is better off without me.
It’s hard being alone, it makes me think and sometimes it’s bad. I just miss a life I don’t have. I’m reaching and looking for something to just take me away. One of the things I wish I had most in life is a look into the future, like if I ever found a book that was about my life, I’d skip right to the end. I want to know what I’m meant to do, if the feeling of being alone and sad and hurt will ever go away.
How much longer do I have to go through it all to be fully happy. I can’t have it all show on the outside, I’m supposed to be good at hiding it all but this isn’t a cut I can cover with pants, or scratches I can cover with makeup, it’s the harsh reality of life. But through it all, Sadness becomes a beautiful melancholy. And then I realized: there is beauty in this sadness. It contributes to creative achievement as well as tragic demise. These emotional turmoil I’m feeling has inspired me to create stories and with that, I felt more comfortable with it. I have embraced sadness as a friend in a world where people are obsessed with finding happiness.
P.S. I apologize for the depressing post guys! I just don’t know elsewhere to vent these emotions out.