do you dream
I haven’t been writing consistently, I know and most of what I write become like rants. I babble about problems of my everyday struggle. Somehow, I hope it helps those going through the same or for those who wish to understand better.
I run away a lot of times. That is something that I… I have practiced for sometime now. I am quite used to it. Obviously, it isn’t something to be proud of. Running should never be a choice. We should strive to face each obstacle head on with effort and patience. We run at our own time, not of others. And you may know, it is quite easy to speak of battling these problems, but more than difficult to do so in action. And that on its own is a struggle.
Often, I find myself lost in the ideals and the dreams, I forget the realities. And I would like to believe in the books and researches telling me so that the moment we forget our realities, the harder we can expect to fall because falling is a sure thing.
I believe that the urge to run has a lot to do with the fact that I don’t have a “break”. I can’t stop myself and I really don’t want to. I want to run and run and never return. And isn’t that what suicide- death offers. Isn’t that the bliss that people like myself look for? Or is it just me? Am I alone in the thought that the release of life, the hold of people, of both dreams and disappointment and many other things is blissful? I would love to just float up into the sky and not be weighed down by each and everyone’s expectations, of their visions and dreams. I would love it. I would love it so much to just float away.
I see patterns and ways to stop myself. I have so many privileges and opportunities. I see it. Yes, I see them clearly. Clear as day, I promise, but just because I do, it doesn’t mean my days aren’t clouded. It doesn’t mean that I am free to do what I wish to do.
I wish someone had told me how to turn back around and fight. Wouldn’t it be nice to say “no” to my darkest shades. That would be lovely, wouldn’t it. To say “no” where it is called for. No, I will not falter with school. No, I will not excuse myself from love. No, I deserve this friendship. No, I deserve me. But it’s never that easy, is it? No, I will not falter with school… tomorrow, I promise. No, I will not excuse myself from love… unless I haven’t grown to love myself. No, I deserve this friendship… well, not until I learn to love. No, I deserve me, but who is this me?
If everyday were an easy day. If I could remind myself and know, understand and truly take it all into consideration, I would. But I am coward. I fear everything, even myself. I fear everyone and everything. I fear of making the right choices and even worse, the wrong. I fear falling and letting myself spiral down. I fear depending more than I fear independence. I fear it all and the worst of it is, everyone seems to be hearing me, but no one understands how far I could go.
I could pick up that razor and slash it into my skin, if only I didn’t fear it.
I could break all connections, run off to become a hermit of sorts, if only I didn’t fear it.
I would, if I didn’t.
And I’m so afraid of making any decision that the only thing left is to not make one, to sit still until someone tells you whether sitting was right or wrong because of the many choices, not choosing is also a choice.
In my dreams, I am never afraid. I grew out of that until I forgot it and dreams became scary again.
Is that ridiculous? having to learn to be brave.. no, I suppose not. Bravery is a virtue that I do not possess and if I did, I hold on to it very loosely. I do not keep it in my heart for I don’t even know where my heart lies.
Often I find myself declaring what life is to me, but when I really think about it, without prejudice against myself, I find that what I have declared is only but smidgen of the truth.And it is sad, to know and often forget how lost I am.
If everyday, I knew, it would not be hard on my soul. If everyday I reminded myself that a path has yet to paved correctly, then I wouldn’t be lost. I wouldn’t be anticipating something that I had already previously realized as a fault.
It’s difficult. It’s painful. It’s tiring. Everything sucks out every energy and fiber of my being whatever.. those are… to me.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful for me to be free?
For once, let’s think about the people in pain, in similar pain. We say, “how selfish”, “how sad”, and whatever else runs through normal people’s mind when one commits suicide. To me, “lucky them”. Lucky for them to be able to do what I can’t. Some will say, I am lucky. But I think people are so selfish to cling on to others and force life over them. I think it’s so selfish for people to say we are lucky we are alive when it hurts to be alive. It’s like saying to me, you’re so lucky you feel pain everyday. It sucks to feel so alone and know that you aren’t, yet you are. It’s hurts to be always praying, wishing, thinking of ways to make yourself better as to not burden others. It’s painful to have other people be your priority because you’re not enough to be the reason to live.
Of course I dream of strength and of being able to stand my ground. I dreamt of it every night. And it consumes me worse than the day before. To know and not be able to fight it, that’s what sucks.