Too much. Too much of it. Sometimes i feel like I’m going insane. For questioning— the how i feel quite intensely with no proper reasoning. How the outsides quickly mirror the insides, how the dreams manifest in real life, how the symbols contradict only to synchronize in time; and how you never seek for signs but have them knock on your door way too many times.
How you sometimes deny the magic and the fire as it burns you to death and to be rebirthed with its own light. Dying and living—and a loop that is never-ending. The crying to bed at night and the waking up with swollen eyes that feel its aftermath. No, I don’t see it. I don’t see why. But i was given two sides of the coin of life. The duality of which, i have to master in time.
No, i don’t see it. I don’t even get it. But i was given this depth of feels to be felt, and maybe not yet to understand the sudden body signals, the splenic insights, and the ancient whispers of light. No I don’t see it. But the eyes that feel and the body that aches, has always been right.
This day felt like a day of survival. A day of waiting for the sun to set so it can rise again tomorrow. Such a paradox really but earlier i was getting a little impatient, yet again. Things don’t seem to be working. Walking along this path that has little to no form of lighting. It’s too dark but holding on tight with this wand of faith handed to me by God when He instructed me to go to this direction. My grip is tight, a bit afraid that it slips off my hand. ‘Cause it’s the only thing I have that keeps me going. To look past the limits of my eyes, to search beyond the unsearchable and to try to grasp the shaky uncertainty that tests me.
Should i keep moving or should i go back? What if there’s nothing in there? What if I’m just wasting my time? What if my intuition was wrong? What if this isn’t really where I’m supposed to be? Will there be light if i kept on walking or am I just fooling myself?
These are my everyday questions. My everyday eerie movie. My everyday battle against the demons in my head that are seemingly obsessive. Well, maybe the rollercoaster effect is to blame. The highs and lows of the ride that give the same amount of shitty feeling. The seesaw syndrome of my extremity. Of my duality that makes and then breaks me. It’s just, hard—To live in the present moment. To just be. But I’m trying. God knows I’m trying. But sometimes the pushing to be present hurts. Maybe because it requires of force. Not like a normal gravitational pull like how i am with my writing, with my words, with the world i create out of my imagination. But I’m not allowed to stay there for long. I HAVE TO stay in the present reality.
And I guess there would really be times like these where I couldn’t get my shit together and that I have to push things. And I think this rythym of pushing with so much force will never stop hurting if I don’t stop trying to control things the way i want it. And hell, I know this already, don’t I? Why do i keep on doing the same old shit?
Earlier i thought to myself: this transformation journey sucks. It fucking hurts. The breaking of old patterns just so i can be better. The changing of habits just so i can be consistent. The allowing of things to unfold at the right time so i can be patient. The loving myself first so I can love others more. The building of self-worth so I won’t be needing of validation from other people anymore. And the fucking slowing down and the fucking details! It sucks. It hurts. But it’s essential for my growth. And it’s all for my highest good. Fine. Let me convince myself of this positive fucked up self-help theme of the world right now. To be self-reliant, to know how to self-regulate and to be self-aware! They sound so simple but it isn’t.
P.s. I know this too shall pass. I just had to blurt it out and felt like posting it. If you reached until this postscript, then i guess you’re not highly sensitive at all 😁 (But please excuse my language.)
Today, I felt empty. I buried my face on the table where I write, with my hands and arms reaching for one another like they both needed that warmth, that hug that could maybe lessen the intensity of the pain I have inside. I listened carefully to the chaotic rhythm my tears make as they run down my cheeks and each time it drops to the surface of the table like a raw melancholic beat. Tears that created a melody that nearly lulled me to sleep—that aftermath of crying that makes you want to just close your eyes, hoping for a beautiful dream that you believe show signs.
But then you realise that the things in your head still want you to keep blinking and think more and more til you reach that certain level of restlessness. I am restless, my mind exactly. Not sure whether it’s the right part of my brain that makes my head ache for the flood of words that wanted to escape or if it’s the Amygdala who confuses itself for the battle of emotions that fight against each other to find out which one stands out best. Perhaps, the latter. The war each and everyone of us create can sometimes get too damaging, worse yet, it could make you feel so down and even depressed. Needless to say, I reached that phase of downhill, of rockbottom, of almost losing yourself as you drown your own aching body to the bottomless ocean of agony you thought existed.
Truth is, it’s all in my head. I knew it’s not real when something invisible poked me in the head that made me release my face from drowning in its own tears. Something that cannot be seen, like maybe an angel who whispered to me saying, “you have to look up”, thus I did. I looked up and looked out the window from my left. There I saw a rainbow that showed up like a unicorn passing by with a full smile on his face. Why, I asked myself, does the rainbow suddenly filled my emptiness? And is it really the rainbow that made me feel better or it’s just me wanting to use that rainbow as a tool to lift my spirits up and keep on fighting?
Sometimes, we know where to find the answers but our fears don’t allow us to get there as swift as we want to. Perceiving the road as dark and scary instead of looking at it as a trail of colours with such extraordinary beauty. Some days it’s okay to be empty, it’s actually an opportunity for you to seek for ways to fill your heart with gratitude as you search for the signs you’ve been praying for. But please, don’t stay there. Stop doing that to yourself. Get up and fight the voices in your head that kills your confidence. Hasn’t everyone told you yet that it’s in your hands? Isn’t it too cliched already if I say that the choice is yours to make? Cliched or not, I’ll say it over and over again to strengthen that belief system we all need to guide our way. The power you used that made yourself feel miserable for the nonexistent fears that has lead you to such disastrous episodes is nothing compared to the power you have to turn everything around. You decide your own destiny. Shape it the way you want it with the guidance of God who knows what’s best. Everything’s going to be alright, trust me.
She closed her eyes to feel the warmth of the words that were too excited to escape. Words that have been jailed for quite a while, words that she kept to herself they ended up battling too much in her head. Ironic as it may seem, no matter how much she wanted to get turned on by the sensuality that writing usually gives her, she refused the treat—for she thought she didn’t deserve it.
“It’s not about “deserve”, it’s about what you believe.” -Wonder Woman
And despite of it all, all the mess and the war, she still believes in the power of love. Love that she puts in every work she does, no matter how many times she had failed herself or even others. She loved every splash of ink, every bit of ideas, every little sense of magic, every foolish mistakes, and everything that helps her create.
And that’s the point being.
You love it so much sometimes it hurts.Due to the unavoidable expectations that punch you in the face and the ineluctable, poisonous presence of fear that chokes you until your out of breath. You love it so much you want only the best. Not realizing that the more you love it, the more it’s tougher to get. That the best is yet to come, only if you strive to be better first.
And it’s okay. To struggle, to lose sight of direction and momentum. To sometimes experience a tremendous imbalance of emotions. It happens. For when you chose to take the road less travelled, you have to understand it’s much harder than the rest, that you will cry more often and it’s triple the pain. Many times you’ll be wounded, you will fall, you will be deceived—that’s because you do what you love and that you love what you do. You may rest from time to time but never throw away what you believe in. If you believe in love, keep it with you all the time and go back to it each time you get confused by the decisions you’ve got to make. Love always finds a way, always.
And it’s when you start to indulge the wild taste of darkness that you appreciate the brightness of the rainbow that’s meant for you. So don’t stop and take it all in. The meaning of it all can only be found by you.
“You’re crazy to think there’s love in between all of this. You’re completely out of your mind. It’s merely a sexual desire, don’t you see?”
Face still straight and emotionless, the Psychoweirdo uttered these words that has probably shattered Ben’s hope. She wasn’t lying, although she’s quite bothered with the way this guy treats her, she’s 100% sure it’s not love. How can someone know of something she hasn’t felt ever, neither received from anyone, nor is present even in her own self? Isn’t that ludicrous?
Ben stood up, opened the bottle of Scotch resting at the table and poured some in his glass. He walked slowly towards the window, in deep thought, but his eyes were lost in oblivion. He could feel the rage firing up inside him whilst he hears his alter-ego that poisons his head, telling him how much of a loser he is, presenting all his regrets at the core of his mind. Regret? Perhaps yes, he regrets that he left his family for this woman of magical charm–he was blind enough to see the scars concealed pretty well in her porcelain skin. And yes, crazy enough to think that this crazy woman will eventually fall for him. He drank all the scotch left in the glass he’s holding and firmly said,
“Ash, I am crazy about you and you’re mine!”
As he declared, Ash saw a flash of demonic fire burning in his eyes, which is not too foreign to her. She has seen this before, roughly around a decade ago, when his foster father raped her, multiple times before she was able to escape. All the unpleasant scenes she has buried in the micro deepest layer of her memory has emerged and evolved into a fresh huge monster that in that very second has made her ill, making her want to run away again forever.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re done. I’m leaving.” she hastily picked up her bag and almost made her way out when Ben grasped her by the wrist, shut the door and said, “I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen.”
With his strong built, he pushed his body towards hers, her right cheek pressed in the back of the door like what a policeman does when they catch a criminal. With both her hands in his possession, she could hardly move, it seems like the flashbacks from ten years ago weakened her knees, she’s nearly vulnerable and almost ready to yield.
“You’re hurting me! Let me go!” shouted Ash, as she tried to fight back the weight of Ben’s body that’s hindering her to run away.
Pain suddenly disrupted her brain. Not the physical one she currently feels (’cause that’s way more tolerable), but the pain from the darkest places she’s been in the past that she never wished to see again. After a few seconds, she smelled the stinky odour of the past that was too familiar to her senses, when the man behind her said them words that her father used to say…
“How about we play some games first?”
******
This is a continuation to The Psychoweirdo fiction series. For the previous parts, click on the links below.
Today, I felt empty. I buried my face on the table where I write, with my hands and arms reaching for one another like they both needed that warmth, that hug that could maybe lessen the intensity of the pain I have inside. I listened carefully to the chaotic rhythm my tears make as they run down my cheeks and each time it drops to the surface of the table like a raw melancholic beat. Tears that created a melody that nearly lulled me to sleep—that aftermath of crying that makes you want to just close your eyes, hoping for a beautiful dream that you believe show signs.
“You’re crazy to think there’s love in between all of this. You’re completely out of your mind. It’s merely a sexual desire, don’t you see?”
Apple Rae 