I wonder how I got here. I feel an eternity away. It’s days like these that all I can do is drag myself to the shower. I don’t know why I go there. I sit under the water and it beats down on my head. It’s so hot it gives me goosebumps. I wonder if I have no one because I pushed them all away or because they all betrayed me. It’s days like these I think it’s more likely the first. The times that someone does reach out- I push them away too, even though usually all I want is a friend. Maybe I just don’t know anything else anymore. I feel my father reaching out, but I can’t reach back. I want to. I feel my mother pushing away, and I try, but I can’t pull her back. I have so many thoughts, so many questions. My mind is never silent. It sounds like it’s screaming, days like these. Maybe we were born alone, live alone, die alone. Maybe everything in between is some kind of illusion that we create because we are so small- so irrelevant. That’s the reality and I think that on some level, we’re all aware of it. We can deny it until the end of the earth but it’s the damn truth. I don’t feel like I’m creating illusions today. I feel alone, and I feel tiny. Fading. Invisible, almost. It scares me. I feel comfortable here, and that scares me more. All things around me change, and the most I can do is watch. I’m comfortable -content even- if I just don’t let my mind wander. And that’s exhausting. Sometimes I don’t know the difference between the truth and everything else. Even when it comes from my own mouth. I sit until the water turns cold. Instantly, not gradually- and like ice. It shocks my body, makes me suck in my breath and I stand up fast. It brings silence to my mind, if only for a passing moment. My only real consolation is that tomorrow might not be a day like today. Maybe tomorrow, my head will be quieter. Maybe I’ll regret this someday, but that day isn’t today.
“I remember riding in a taxi one afternoon between very tall buildings under a mauve and rosy sky; I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald, My Lost City (via sleepingtigers)