“The shattering of a heart when being broken is the loudest quiet ever.”
Anxiety attacks; penetrating every fibre of your body. Loneliness, if only you knew its remedy. Love; oh how you wish you knew how to experience it fully, letting it engulf you completely, and not spit out your soul, when it chooses to. At times, you want to put up a fight and let it be heard by the people who have wronged you; intermittently but terribly.
‘It’ meaning the response you could possibly muster up for someone who superbly smack shit across your face leaving you listless and hurt, simply because they can and you can’t be rude to people.
Almost 22, I wish I could deal with certain situations better. That is if my only resolve to an unpleasant occurrence be it my personal or professional life, wouldn't be to break down and cry. Because apparently tears imply that you are a weakling that you aren't allowed to be frustrated, bitter or downright angry, since that makes your lachrymal glands explode.
And like most of my so-called good wishers have said. People will take you for granted. And boy do they not!
But I often wonder if it’s worth it? To be inanely passive and let things be; even if it kills you from inside. To know that your worst fear is to not that you can’t land a fantastic job or go to the writing school you have visited frequently in your dreams.
It’s as simple as being unable to stand up to the accusations of one person who means the world to you. To realise that someone’s repeated insinuations can make you think so little of yourself. And that after all these years and all the distance, it still matters. What he or she thinks of you still is majorly responsible for how you think of yourself, and you’d do anything to change it, but you’d rather not.
Secretly, you blame them for everything. Your dysfunctional antics, stopping even a friend to reach out to you because they shouldn't; because the dimensions of the entire problem are rather entangled, and also embarrassing.
Slowly it becomes a part of your existence, gnawing into your everyday reality, affecting every decision you take; however not enough to dismiss the perpetrators of a hurt soul.
An author once said, “We accept the love we think we deserve.” Maybe. Maybe not. My idea of love is mostly not the self-deprecating kind; neither am I atrocious at giving love, even though I am not utterly resplendent. But I do realise that due to a few bad experiences, I blatantly might refuse a chance to those who are quite fond of me.
So, from now I hope to try and stop feeling low and let certain people or moments define what life or love should mean to me. And be steadfast, even if not spontaneous, to move past the hurt, to grab hold of good wishes which come by my way every day. And mostly importantly even if I am unable to curtly answer back someone, to give myself the time to recover from something which genuinely bothers me.
Because some people will be worth the fight and some won't. And as always, some infinities will be bigger than other infinities. And it's up to you to pick one and go with the flow.