I'm writing farewell letters as I embark upon another journey of my life. This is me finding my way back home. Home - it's been so long since I actually was home that I've forgotten what it was really like. It's a life changing decision and I'm.. scared. I wake up scared every morning and I go to sleep anxious - for once not knowing what the future holds at all, any more. I know I'm grateful to get this shot at a do-over, a shot at happiness but I have never been so apprehensive about a decision. I know it's not going to be all rainbows and butterflies, I know it a little too well. I need my people to believe in me again. I need ME to believe in me again. I need to pick up a pen and write words that make sense again. I need to wake up because I want to, not because I have to. I need to step out of this ghost of me and try and remember what it was like to be alive.
I've lost so much over the years that my sanity eventually had to add to that list. But this is me fighting with all my heart, for my brain. This is me holding on to that shred of intelligence that I know prevails somewhere beneath all my broken and crumbling exterior. As I stare at all my belongings strewn across the room, I think of a life unfulfilled. I have to pack it all into neat little bags and carry it home. I have to somehow get to the place where I'll be kept safe from all the monsters of this world - the biggest one being my mind. I wish Dad could help me with this - he has always been the one arranging my life's disarrayed bricks into piles that made sense.. Only for me to crash them all over again. I find new ways to destroy myself, all the while waiting for someone to fix me and put me back together again. Maybe it's a sort of sport for attention seekers like me. I wouldn't know.
This empty house is in sync with my empty heart - I don't know what even lies underneath anymore. I try and reach out to people I once called my own and hope one of them has the answers, has a quick fix for the disaster that is now me and that's when I recall how this one boy always tells me that I can't wait around for people to help me - I need to help myself. But what if I was built on a self-destruct mode? What if I just jinx everything and everyone I come in contact with? What then if I have no home and noone to call my own.
My mother tries to reassure me - she should have been named the Iron Lady. She tries for me to find the silver lining beneath all of these dark clouds. But maybe some horizons are just grey Maa.. Bleak and diminishing into nothing. Maybe I'm a toy that can't be fixed - maybe I am too broken for any sort of repair. It's just a matter of time till you decide to throw me out, toss me out in the cold where I belong.
Kids get bored of broken things. Adults too.
Why aren't you tired yet ? I am.
I am so fucking tired of being me.
I've lost so much over the years that my sanity eventually had to add to that list. But this is me fighting with all my heart, for my brain. This is me holding on to that shred of intelligence that I know prevails somewhere beneath all my broken and crumbling exterior. As I stare at all my belongings strewn across the room, I think of a life unfulfilled. I have to pack it all into neat little bags and carry it home. I have to somehow get to the place where I'll be kept safe from all the monsters of this world - the biggest one being my mind. I wish Dad could help me with this - he has always been the one arranging my life's disarrayed bricks into piles that made sense.. Only for me to crash them all over again. I find new ways to destroy myself, all the while waiting for someone to fix me and put me back together again. Maybe it's a sort of sport for attention seekers like me. I wouldn't know.
This empty house is in sync with my empty heart - I don't know what even lies underneath anymore. I try and reach out to people I once called my own and hope one of them has the answers, has a quick fix for the disaster that is now me and that's when I recall how this one boy always tells me that I can't wait around for people to help me - I need to help myself. But what if I was built on a self-destruct mode? What if I just jinx everything and everyone I come in contact with? What then if I have no home and noone to call my own.
My mother tries to reassure me - she should have been named the Iron Lady. She tries for me to find the silver lining beneath all of these dark clouds. But maybe some horizons are just grey Maa.. Bleak and diminishing into nothing. Maybe I'm a toy that can't be fixed - maybe I am too broken for any sort of repair. It's just a matter of time till you decide to throw me out, toss me out in the cold where I belong.
Kids get bored of broken things. Adults too.
Why aren't you tired yet ? I am.
I am so fucking tired of being me.
So there's this super glue. It fixes people up immediately. It's called home :) I'm sure the tiny fragments that were let loose are coming right back into place now. Home has that effect :) Cheer up lil one
ReplyDeleteWhere are you??
ReplyDeleteM, I'm so so sorry. I'll write you a mail soon.
ReplyDelete