Have you ever felt like sometimes because you’re naturally sad or angry, you end up vibrating the same energy towards other people? It’s a pull of gravity. Like I try my best to smile and laugh and project a colorful personality in public but at the end of the day, when it’s sombre and piognant, I tend to swell up varying emotions to the point where tears just starts falling, uncontrollably, drowning the world with it. It’s tiring sometimes- the feeling of lost and agonizing intensity of not knowing why it hurts.
I’m trying to focus on something, on details, on little things but they always end up in jumble. It’s like searching for words in space. It’s there but it’s not. It comes and it goes. Like how my life is actually right now. I want to write something because I feel too much again. But words turn to scratch and scratch tuns to crampled papers over the bin. Does anyone know how much frustrating this feels? I try to say something, but all I get are the wrong words – the wrong words which are the exact opposite from what I mean.
So tonight, I’m trying to just write down what I want to say without touching any topic at all. My friend says not focus too much. To just try to start with something because even jumbled words will eventually find its meaning. It will just flow continuously and I won’t even realize it’s not words I’m writing but my heart’s feeling. So I’m doing it today. Writing out of nowhere, with pieces of scratch, hoping that it will make sense in the end. If not, let alone the fact that I’m trying.
Speaking of trying, I’ve been trying so hard to focus on the important matters of life. Whenever I go out, I make it a point to smile and be cheerful to avoid dragging people down to my pits. I tell myself eveyday that difficult days are natural and it will pass. Piece of cake. So far, I think I’ve projected an easy outgoing attitude. But is it enough? Will the process of conveying bright emotions publicly help me realize the importance of actually feeling it for real?
I have dozens of questions in my mind, sometimes hidden but always present, and answers circulating, wavering through different directions, unattainable, complicated. I’m growing old and with it, I feel like my innocence is dying with it. It scares me a lot. I don’t want to be left alone with multiple questions as to why I am acting like this. I want to keep appreciating life as it is.
So there it is: a negligible story of my fucking distressful life. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I hope it will.