Neverlasting
Doing nothing for more than a year has warped my mind. I’ve lost control of everything I’ve tried so hard to control. I tried to let things go and move forward but sometimes a sense of dread that held down any sense of hope hold me back and anchor me down, still. To describe what was going on within would be: stumbling, slow, and of course, painful. Each day adds a little more weight being put on the back of my shoulder for me to carry.
It’s funny to the point it hurts, looking at how carefree I was back then when I knew nothing. From the start of the pandemic and how me, without any care of how everything would go down, inhaling coffee like it was water, to now where I restrain myself to only take coffee once or twice a week to keep myself from ruining my sleep even more. It’s almost cruel how I wasn’t allowed to seek refuge in a dream. Having trouble sleeping means more time to give to the waking world, and to be awake longer means shouldering the weight of my own life for a little more longer than necessary.
Sometimes hardships get described as both an awful and exceptional event, such as falling into the water, but what if no matter how far you swim through you can’t find no dry land in sight? To me it was a kind of gaslighting, to live in a battle that no one around me would acknowledge as a battle.
I was driven to redeem my existence by accomplishments and keep going until I reach a better place, but feeling like the ground you’re standing on getting pulled from under you and getting door slammed in your face over and over again is tiring. Even the roads keep on getting burned no matter how carefully I tried to tread. I tried. I know that my best is far from enough but Heaven knows I tried, yet the person I see in the mirror was still nothing but one filled with both confirmed and potential wrongness and failures.
Perhaps first and foremost, all I wanted was to free myself from the mental shackles of my own. Perhaps the silver lining to all of this is to stop wishing for perfection in myself when the world itself is imperfect. It is simply unattainable. I have no clue of where I belong or where I wanted to go, but I knew I wanted to get myself away from the place I am in. My constant need of control of the way things are supposed to go, how everything had to be as perfectly crafted as it was planned in my head is probably the one that breaks me and in the end. All I have to do is just keep going. Even when I can no longer walk but force myself to crawl, with tears running down my face.
To live a life where fate was not your own, your body is not your own and your life is not your own. The never-lastingness of time is something worth to always keep in mind because in the end, you can never stop time from coming at you. You don’t have to do anything for the minutes and hours to arrive. For even when some pain remains incomprehensible, life continues its cycle and someday somehow it will push you back up again like how it pushed you down before — with its own surprising way. Perhaps I still need to hold on and wait, perhaps things will change and I may feel differently. Perhaps I’ll see myself in a place I never thought I would be, through ways I never thought I would walk through.
