(i wrote each of this at totally different times and mindsets so there is no continuity and relation between each one. they revolve around more or less the same theme, but i was trying to convey different substances and pieces of mind)
I
I guess it's agreed upon that looking back at life gives you a content feeling of self. Look at the time you succeed, the time of pure joy. The hard work and the payoff. I used to agree with that; looking back, I could see the things I have gone through to be here, and there was pride, there was contentment. But now there is an itch on the top of my head- I started to question how much of it I actually did enjoy. What is my life, if not a series of endurance, perseverance in the face of failure and humiliation. I've overcome a lot of things, a lot of hard time. I was, by some miracle, able to get by, able to do what I had to do. I kept pushing my limit, defeating my fear. I guess that is, in itself, an 'achievement'. "You can do it," I say, "You've done it and you can do it again." Yes, I probably will be able to push through life. I can't help but ask though, what if that is all? A life that is fought so hard to be kept, to the point where all joy, all love, all passion is stripped away to be just that- to survive?
II
It was a painful life. Living in the moment just to dread the future and curse the past. Everything has always felt like a personal attack- every silence, every remark. You thought that you'd grow out of it. So you sought a new start, and run for the promise of a new life the second there is a chance. And you tried, for the love of life I tried to build something worthy. But no matter how far I go, I can't run from myself. It's always there with me, pulling me down, restraining me from living a proper life.
It was a painful life. And an incredibly long one. A purposeless life wasted on trivial things; it's getting harder to breathe when you can't help but ask, "What is the point of it all?"
Again, I feel like crying all the time. It was kindergarten, middle school, high school all over again. I keep finding myself at the same place. Despite all efforts, I haven't really changed, I just got better at hiding and toning down emotions.
I'm torn between wanting to freeze time and wanting it all to end.
III
I know that I am nobody (and I say this non-metaphorically, non-emotionally). Calm-headedly, I have come to term that I am nobody, and so is everyone. Strip human beings of their self inflation and grandiosity and you'll see that we're just.. species, numbers, don't matter. That realization alone is paralyzing, but I have made peace with that. Meanings are not created by how important you are. They are created by how important you see things around. A meaningful life is not impossible even if you've realized the hard truth of how insignificant you are and how insignificant you will ever be. Meaning is tethered to purpose; something, someone, to look forward to. I don't have that and I'm afraid that I won't ever have that. I dread the future even more than I dread my past, because I have reasons, many of them, to conclude that I am unfit for this world. That being an adult is not something I look forward to. Whatever bits left of self-worth I have today, will be gone, shattered by the time adult life begins. For now, I can crawl with life, but I'm not sure I will be able to sleep with it in future time.
