“I have a bag of drugs in my pocket.”
“And I am trying to decide whether or not to take it.” *Sniffles*
“I’ve got the – his death – thing completely managed. I know people were worried. Since he died, everybody’s been looking at me. Waiting for me to fall apart or freak out. Or just – boom – become a mess. Like some bomb everyone thinks is supposed to go off.”
“My mother was calling three, four times a day. It makes sense. It’s natural.”
“Every man I’ve ever loved… Has died.”
*Chuckles* “Including my baby.”
“Thank you, universe.”
“So I should be.. Like.. Greek tragedy, turned to stone, bat-shit crazy, but I’m good. I got this. I am fine. Can’t you see it? I’m telling you, I’m amazing!” *Chuckling* “I am saving lives left and right. People even fighting to hear me lecture. I am entertaining… Joke, joke, joke! I’m funny! I’m fun! I’m a party! I’m doing.. I’m great! I’m handling his death-thing really, really well.” *Chuckles* “Okay, except today, I yelled at my co-worker who was only trying to invite me for coffee, and then I went and scored this bag of drugs from this random junkie.”
“I haven’t taken any, but I might. That’s the thing. I really actually might.”
“I have been sober for 1,321 days. I was fine. It was managed.”
“But I might.”
“All the stuff you’re.. Managing.”
“.. You’re not supposed to be managing it. You’re supposed to be feeling it.”
“Grieve. Lost. Pain. It is normal.”
“It’s NOT normal.”
“It is! It IS normal!”
“It’s not normal for you because you never done it before.”
“You.. Instead of feeling it – feeling the grief and the pain, you’ve shoved it all down. And you do drugs instead. Instead of moving through the pain, you run from it.”
“You..” *Sighs* “Instead of dealing with being hurt and alone, and afraid that this horrible, empty feeling is all there is, I run from it. I run off, and I continue to do my work harder than ever.”
*Sighs* “We do these things. We run off, and we.. We medicate. We do whatever it takes to cover it up and dull the sensation. But it is NOT normal. We’re supposed to feel.. We’re supposed to….”
“And hate.. And hurt.. And grieve.. And break and.. Be destroyed and.. Rebuild ourselves to be destroyed again. That is human – That is humanity. That’s.. That’s…. That’s being alive. That’s the point. That’s the entire point. Don’t…. Don’t avoid it.”
“Don’t…. Extinguish it.”
“He… He just.. Died. I don’t want to feel it. I… I.. I don’t think I can. I don’t think I even want to… No. NO. I can’t. I CAN’T! I can’t do this. I just can’t.”
“You have to. If you don’t….”
“No, I can’t. Shi- I can’t do this!”
“You.. You have to.”
“If you don’t, that bag of drug in your hand is not going to be your last.”
And she feel down to her knees, and cried.
She cried harder than she had ever cried before.
I went down to my knees and hugged her.
“You’re going to be okay. You’re going to survive this, okay?”
“It’s perfectly normal. It’s boring, even.”
“It’s… It’s so normal” *Chuckles*
It was.. It was just so heartbreaking.
I saw someone – a woman – that has been trying to be strong for far, far too long.
For more than 4 years she’s.. Running from her feelings? I don’t really know the details.
And she deemed herself strong, and even great for trying to “manage” her feelings.
Yet it only made her all empty, and numb, and unable to feel things.
She was breathing, living, moving here and there – but not alive.
First thing that came to my mind after seeing that woman? Her, of course.
The way that woman described her ability to be ‘strong’ was just really, really similar to what she did when she was trying to explain how strong she is in handling her problems.
Okay, I might not understand how she truly is doing right now.
But all I know, she’s always trying to ‘be strong’ in every case in her life.
Which, I get it as.. Distracting herself and running away from her feelings.
I don’t want her to confine her feelings for that long.
I don’t want her to keep running away from her pain and her feelings.
I don’t want her to be that woman.
I had that once, I ran away from Facebook.
Oh, I could sugarcoat it by saying that I do not need social media and shits.
But those all I said was not the goddamn reason on why I left social media.
It’s because I can’t handle the fact that I saw her doing lovey-dovey things even though she said she was NOT ABLE to do them.
It’s because I can’t handle the fact that she is hiding her things from me on her Facebook ever since ‘that’ thing happened to her – with addition of she lied to me about NOT hiding her things from me.
It’s because I can’t handle the fact that she IS treating me like a complete stranger a day after ‘that’ fateful thing happened.
And It’s because she’s acting like we never actually do anything together – as if our sweet and wonderful relationship never happened.
There. I fucking said them all.
I don’t want to run away anymore.
I want to face all my fears; I want to break through those scary looking walls.
I want to face everything that is currently going on in my life.
I want to acknowledge them; I want my heart and mind to know that they exist.
I want to face all the facts, and not running away from them.
Oh, I know they will break me sometimes.
I know they will cut my gut open and left it bleeding at times.
But I don’t care – I don’t bloody care.
Try me; give me all the worst thing that those thing can possibly do.
And I will stand firm on my feet and call myself strong.
Not because I am able to put those feelings aside and continue to life my live while always trying to overlook those nasty and heartbreaking facts, NO.
But because I know I am able to feel all those feelings that I will have, and continue to feel EVERY SINGLE one of them.
Because I know that I am facing them one by one, and I am letting myself feel them – I am letting myself for those feelings to wash through me WITHOUT taking control of me.
Because I know that it is what it means to be truly strong.
Let me say these things:
You do not have to ‘stay strong’ when your whole world is crumbling around you.
As your broken face stares upon the mass-devastation, you should NOT be pressured to stay positive about the burning inferno your life has shattered to.
I want you to know that it’s okay not to be okay.
And I want you to know that I care about you.
I may be unable to tell you I care.
I may not write you page long messages about how much you mean to me.
It’s not because I can’t find the words to write, but because I do.
I’ve practiced every day the words I will say, and the things I’ll do.
Heck, I even confess my feelings to the one above every single day.
But I guess that is the kind of person I am.
I find it hard to talk about ‘feelings’ that doesn’t for one second mean I don’t love you.
I may lack the ability to say it, but I promise you every single day you’ll feel the love in every action I do.
So I’m sorry if my linguistic abilities are lacking and I’m sorry if you did want pages and pages of words, but I really do hope before jumping to conclusions, just once you really do look into my eyes.
For then you’ll see there’s nothing but love and care.
I just wish the notion of in writing or verbally confessing didn’t mean so much because.. Just because I don’t say it, it doesn’t mean it’s not there.
My love and care for you, is always here, right inside my heart.
And it’s not going anywhere else .