A light reaches out at the end of the tunnel. It is the promised light we all will see one day, for the price of time and effort. My light seems to betray the distance this tunnel will go on for, with an exponential increase in brightness the closer I get to the exit. The smells of flowers and bees become more defined through the musk in the air they leave behind, which is something I enjoy and despise at the same time. Beauty comes and goes, but if I get lost in it, then I fear that I will be the one who might disappear forever. So I run away again from it all. Just so that I will never have to lose again.
This cycle of winning and losing, with the latter being grander, is getting to me. I am gaining weight like crazy, and not in a ‘muscle-champ’ kind of way. I am noticing how I am done with other people in this world, yet I crave the confirmation that my friends will be there with me in 5 years time protecting me from the shadow monsters dubbed loneliness. My studies are finally speaking more to me, but I shove them away in fear of eventually losing interest and hopes that this is the correct path for me to take. Being in a limbo of dating or not with that girl is only making things for me, as I have yet another insecurity added to the list which does not do me any favors.
I am, honestly, in the worst position of my life. Nothing in my life feels remotely right, or even ‘uplifting’. Every area only serves to distract me or push me into even more disarray than I was before. Pretty much the only positive aspect I have going for me is my little start in increasing my meditation skills, but as far as that goes, I have not much hope for any impressive improvements soon.
It is as if I expect someone to save me from this confusing life. As if I am waiting for some thing, or for someone to come around and give me the thumbs up; the go-for-it. I always seek confirmation for every muscle action performed by me, it has gone over my head that the only person who really needs to give confirmation is me myself. Back when I used to be in a better position, a couple of months ago, I needed less confirmation of other, and more of just a good time. I was not the same person I am now, but a better, updated soldier. I did what I thought was right, and I did it with a smile eventually; it truly made me happy, to work out, to work hard, to work. Compared to the time-wasting kid I am now, similarities stop at hobbies and the body we share. I don’t even like the same things I did back then, and whether that has to do with depression or not, the truth remains that I have not been a good man of my words.
But where people fall, a new opportunity arises: to stand up. And I know this. And I keep talking about this.
So why am I not working on getting back on my feet? It only takes a couple of days of extreme hard work to get back on track, so why am I not fighting any longer? Do I really want to make this year as regretful as last year, or do I want to make something out of myself?
No more questions. I have done this countless times before, but now, I see how necessary it is to get out of here. I have addictions, mental illnesses, problems and no dreams for the future. I don’t know who I want to be, who I feel most comfortable being, and who I trust less: others or myself. I need, I have, I require, I necessitate to work on myself. This is not a plight or a cry for help, but a lash against desperation. If I truly want to change, then I must stop being such a fucking pussy, and get on with life. This cycle, this depression, this so called desire to be a hero, none of this will end as long as I don’t add in some changes to the mix.
But how? I have my gym plan ready, what change can I bring to it?
I have some recipes ready, what change can I bring to it?
I have the homework set out in front of me, what change can I bring to it?
I can stop writing here, because I know what is bothering me. It is not my weight, nor is it the girl. My friendships can be repaired, and my college work can be done through some extreme hard effort. These are all problems I know I can solve, but the obstacle standing in between me and them is…fear.
My fear of death. My fear of impending doom. My anxiety controlling me every step of the day. As long as it is this entity with the loudest voice, I will keep submitting myself to this fear. And motivation/discipline is not enough to get me over this fear, because it literally is my fear of the future and my fear of improvement.
Call it a fear of starting to love life too much to be afraid to get too attached to it. A fear -not of being afraid to hate my course, but one of me loving it so much that I don’t want to imagine a future without it. A fear where I literally don’t want to get myself attached to anything because it will only bring pain to me in the end. This is exactly what is pushing me away from relationships, from being too close and giddy with friends, from the love shown by my family, and by my own improvements.
A fear of attachment.
This is why I hate thinking of the word ‘love’. A concept in life concerning two souls bound to each other, attached so narrowly that separation will tear the skin of the other. That is why I keep thinking of why I want to have friends with me in the future, is it not?! So that I can attach myself to as many things as possible, making it impossible to lose them forever…
Could this be the real result of what my mother’s passing has done to me? Is this what has come out of it? A person unable to appreciate the fine aspects of life? It feels like I finally understand myself. I am terrified of the beauty of life, so I seek the ugliness of it all to make sure that I won’t regret dying when that time comes. The problem seems crystal clear now, comparable to revealing the secret behind one’s magic trick: I fear, thus I suffer. There really is no other way around saying that I fear life.
Time to start facing the truth: I will die one day, whether it be tomorrow or in 70 years from now. No, it’s no good, it is not getting through to me. To tell myself these words, and to believe them, they are two separate states almost completely detached from one another.
Even if I don’t know the answer, I feel like I know the issue a lot better now, and that has given me some tiny fragrance of hope and motivation again. This is no time to sit back and relax, because there is a lot of improvement to be done. 2015 is not going to be yet another of ‘those years’: I desperately want to live life again by the end of this year, with people around me. I would rather take the difficult road and try to have as many people with me, but not for the reason of having them to catch me when I lose something, but because I want them to have fun with in life.
Was my day seized? No. No, not at all. Before I started writing, I was in a mess, feeling bad and horrible about every thing I had been attempting. But now, with the problem clearly lined out now, I can see a hook I can hang on to to get back on top of my own game.
Day: Not Seized
Johnny's Journey 