Were we friends? Were we lovers? Did we ever become more than just instances of thought sharing? Did you ever feel that thoughts and feelings were reciprocated across the miles? Through the chats, the messages, the serious discussions and the joking around, the nights out, the afternoons in, the sharing of experiences, was there ever anything more? Did we ever connect? Will I ever connect on a deeper level? Something I crave so much but always seems so unobtainable, as if no-one else wants it. For me it’s a need. I need to be connected. To be understood. To you, to him, to all of you. Without the connection we are just drifting, bumping into other humans randomly. Gouging wounds into each other, marks of the passing. Scars of regret for what was done and for what wasn’t. I have an understanding of people, how they work but this doesn’t bring me closer to them. The more I figure out about myself, the less I fit in. The lonelier I become and the more distant from humanity I feel. The more I wonder at how I can be so different. Then think to myself that I’m not, there’s nothing special about me. There is nothing that I have felt or seen that another human hasn't already experienced before. I thought everyone was like me; two people trapped in one body. The person we present to all and our personal inner-self. The one no one really knows about. The one no one has ever seen in its entirety. Sometimes I allow people to peek through windows into that place where my true self lives. There are many windows and each one allows a different view, but no one is ever allowed to see it all. To see the whole picture because no one has ever shown the slightest inclination that they might understand, that they have their own inner self that they hide. I’m just not brave enough to show my true colours. I cannot let go. I cannot give myself….but I want it to be taken. I want someone to expose it. To free me. To expose me and accept me.
I don’t know what’s missing in my life to make me feel like this. I don’t know why one simple question can reduce me to tears and rip away everything I’ve been building on for so many years, tear down my happy and confident mask to reveal someone so full of self-loathing that they can’t allow others to love them: Has anyone ever really got you? No…… Are they supposed to? How can I be surrounded with love and feel so desperately misunderstood? I am a good person. I am a bad person. I am loving. I am cold. My duality torments me, confuses me of my own feelings. It tears me apart and makes me feel dishonest to myself. I feel as if I am an actor playing the part of ‘me’. I have to fight myself every day. I contemplate my own mortality often. The implications of my actions. The implications of my lack of action. The implication of my existence. The implications of my departure from this planet. I contemplate my worth. To myself and to others. Nothing gives me meaning, I am drifting and you all seem so far away on the horizon that I’m not sure I can ever get back…
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That's deep.. Is this actually how you feel or are you a writer?
I am a writer in as much sense as you are a reader. This is a small slither of me. It is true to my feelings.
*Loneliness
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