Visceral look at inner thoughts. (might be disturbing)

Daniel (@eindal) 8 years, 9 months ago

This is a tell-all type of writing. Free form of thought, not too heavy on the grammar. This is all real, as it flowed. Held nothing back. Feel free to opine. Good or bad, doesn’t matter, an outsider’s view is welcome.

February 2, 2013 at 11:37 pm
Daniel (3) (@eindal) 8 years, 9 months ago ago

I’m scared.

I feel I’ve found something very precious but that the person I know I am is incapable of truly appreciating it. Of doing the necessary things to keep it with me.
I can’t express love properly. That never mattered because I found few people in my life who truly deserved it. I never saw it as necessary because I was focused on the single minded goal of protecting.

I am trapped.

Behind the prison of stone, a fortress around my heart of my own making. I did it to protect myself, to be able to endure not only my pain but to be able to support the pain of those around me. Those who needed an icon of fortitude, and image to which they could aspire to or, more importantly, rely on. I honestly wanted to give others the support I felt I never had.

I can’t say I regret it. It worked, I was able to endure the world around me and ease my mom’s mind, be my sister’s guide. I couldn’t offer them love, perhaps that would have been better, but I offered what I needed and couldn’t get at the time. What we all needed so desperately: stability.
But now that the hard times have past. I find myself trapped by the very walls, the very container I built to protect others and myself. I find myself drowned in a sea of old anger and mistrust, of resentment and the sadness that comes out of a young man’s impotence.
I have been swimming in it for years and I fear it has become a part of me, soaked into my very being. I fear that I won’t be able to get rid of it. I’m afraid I won’t be able to love if that’s the case.

I need help, I know this, but I don’t know how to ask for it. When the foundations of my prison, or maybe I should call it a well, shake, and what’s trapped inside threatens to overflow, I desperately try to find an outlet. Physical activity, distraction, whatever it takes. Too often I don’t manage and it spills into my outer self, I feel it pour out of my body and it burns. I swallow it and it makes me sick to my stomach, physically ill. Mentally, it haunts me, doesn’t let me concentrate; appreciate the moments, the beauty right in front of me. It keeps me from being happy.

Was it the war? The death? The isolation, much of it by choice, that did it? That undoubtedly changed me, added to what was there and made me even more callous but something was there before all that. Something that scarred me inside. No I wish it was a scar, that would mean the wound had closed, but this one seeps and hurts still.
I’m a master of deceit.

I’ve placed myself in a place, around people that see in me someone quite superficial. I’ve gained their anger, their silent contempt, their jealousy, and even when I’ve gained their respect, it has served me only to conceal myself. My weakenss, my sadness and loneliness, the pain. Sometimes I try to share myself, part of me of me desperately trying to claw its way out of the prison but the light never shines through, I can never seem to connect, they can never understand, so I give up and use them for my own means, to vent and temporarily ease the pain, knowing full-well I’ve made no progress and, like a drug, the anesthetic effect will wear off eventually. I am a user.

But I do love.

The people around me are also examples. I am smart enough to surround myself with people who, whether they know it or not, have something to teach me, something I aspire to and that I admire in them. But I can never tell them. If they were aware of this they’d change, or I’d be afraid they’d change. Silence is my tool, my weapon, my shield. I love them. I love my family and I’d happily lay my life down for them. Their struggles, their pain, I’ve been there for it and seeing them overcome it makes me hopeful. If only I were that strong…

I’m confused.

Perhaps I’m a coward. Sometimes I think. No, I know that that wall was a place to hide. Because I was too weak to confront reality, because I was too weak. I needed to hide, a place for myself but it ended up trapping me.

I’ve grown up in darkness.

Where everything is a threat, where everyone whispers death and means ill. I’ve forced myself to believe that danger was everywhere, believed I had to be ready for anything. I grew up in darkness and became afraid of even the light. It hurts my eyes, I am not used to it. I don’t know her and so she scares me. But I’ve felt her (and it makes me want to cry remembering) the warmth, how it never chased me away, how it chased away my shadows and it would let me simply sit there, content. Yes, I’ve glimpsed her too, with no demands no contempt, asking nothing, simply giving me warmth and letting me be at peace.
I long for it.
More so now, more than ever. I’ve grown tired of fighting. I’m tired and my mind is tired. I want peace, I want love. I want to rest. I’m tired.

I’ve found love.

But I can’t seem to touch it. I grow desperate to see her right there, so close, so willing and so incredibly out of reach. Distance is one thing, but it’s this need, the sick need born of living in the dark. I am the starved man that, in his desperation, consumes what is in front of him but cannot appreciate it. I want o appreciate it. I am now afraid of myself, of the weakness I’ve bred in myself. It threatens to destroy the thing I love but it is not something I can fight, or something I can hide. The problem is me.

So I look for answers.

How to finally rid myself of these demons, or how to rid myself of the self I’ve come to be. I need to change. Only then will I be able to grasp what fate has been so kind to put in front of me. I realize I am lucky, that I have been given an opportunity many never get. This makes me that much more desperate for a solution.

I’m still searching.

Realizing it’ll take time and effort, all of it worth it, but also realizing that the search has to happen within, in the darkest place I know, facing the demons I fear the most. They are not simply my shortcomings, we all have and can accept those. No, these are larger older, wiser things that will not be easily put to rest. They know me well, exploit my weaknesses and hope to make me their servants. They’ve taken root deep in my self and don’t wish to be disturbed. They are quick to anger and terrible in their response, they speak only when it suits them, they were born of me, I created them but they would enslave me, they protected me at one point, they were necessary…

I’ve grown… I’m stronger and know how to tackle the world. How to protect those around me, how to drive them to be the best they can be. I am a man, and intelligent, wise at least for my age, I am respected and successful, capable. All of this, however, wasn’t enough. Had I been king and thought of as the man among men, it would not have been enough to muster the strength because in front of the demons I am but a child, alone and afraid, because they tap into my memory and remind me that there was nothing to do and that I was incapable of many things, but I’ve grown. And they were the catalyst. Special people who have wisdom’s eyes. Those who managed to see right through my disguise, whose vision pierced through me and they saw me trapped, but most importantly they saw me there, true, tired, afraid but wanting to better the world despite my burdens. They saw me. And they saw that what remained of me was salvageable, they saw the beauty in the mangled remains of my self and they found me worthy… of love.

I have hope.

They saved me. Each and every single one of them and I can never thank them enough. I’m not sure if they know this because to them it was a natural, honest process but they validated me, reminded me that I could still make it out, at least that there was something left worth saving. I had forgotten… and because of that I was so lost. They found me and left a trail for me to find myself. Their honest belief allowed me to believe in myself. So I have hope.

I have doubts.

The hardest part is yet to come. At some point I will find myself faced against my demons and the truth is that even with this newfound strength, I might not win. But I’m not sad, I appreciate that an opportunity has been given and I won’t waste it. I’m still afraid however, that I won’t be able to find myself when I dive back in to the dark. I’m afraid of it still, but most of all I’m afraid that I’ll let her slip, God she makes me want to be better but this battle is so difficult. I don’t want to lose her, but I know if I’m not successful then I won’t be able to truly appreciate her, to truly love her and so I won’t be deserving of her. If I fail, then she is lost to me and I’ll go back to the life I’ve always known. I’ll go back to hiding, I’ll go back to sleep. If I’m fortunate someone else might find me, but then again, fate seldom gives us the same chance twice. And another would not be the same.
There are so many roadblocks. My mind puts them up.

What if I’m making to much of this? What if she’s not what I think she is? Maybe I’m just a stranger in a world that doesn’t have a place for me. Maybe all this is for nothing and I shouldn’t even worry about it. There might not be a point to this. What’s the point of this life anyways? I hear a low hum that drives me insane and won’t let me concentrate. The clock is ticking and it pressures me, ‘hurry up’, ‘hurry up, your life is passing by and you’re wasting it.’ It fills me with anxiety because I can’t help but think of the many things I’m missing as I write this. My symptoms confirm themselves, I still can’t appreciate the moment, I live in the infinite possibilities and torture myself every time one passes by.
My friend texts me, he’s partying, I’m happy for him but I don’t want to talk right now so I give him a simple reply. I appreciate he thinks of me and realize I don’t offer the same. I feel bad.

I feel like I should end this now. I’ll read it in the morning and hope to learn something from it because I’ve become distracted. My only pining now is for her, like a coward I put off the fight in front of me. I know what I have to do but I fear the pain that comes with it. Maybe tonight, we’ll see.

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