“Of course I look angry all the time. My entire life I’ve been fighting a war. I am soaked in pain and sadness. The irony however, is that I’m not actually angry, I’m trying to learn how to be happy. And that in itself is a war…”
Yes, I am an introvert. No, I’m not shy. No, I’m not stuck up. No, I’m not antisocial. I’m just listening. I’m just observing. I can’t stand small talk… But I’ll talk about life for hours. I’d rather be home with a close friend or two than among a crowd of acquaintances. Don’t scold me in public. Don’t embarrass me in public. Respect that I am reserved. And if I open myself up to you, know that means you’re very special to me.
I deconstructed myself this year. Broke up into all the tiny pieces I consist of.
As it turns out I’m not made up by the things I am, but by the things I am not. At the same time, nothing has changed and everything has. I am still the same, but I see everything clearly now. I have become predictable to myself, I feel pure and vulnerable and I enjoy it. I feel as if I’m shaking off the dust of the matrix we live in and waking up to the world as it is. It is nothing. Nothing we run after is real. Nothing we believe in is real. Everything we believe in has been imposed on us. And within the range of possibilities we choose, but nothing of that has come from us, from within. We are not any more or any less intelligent than an ant running for the queen, building, nesting, living.
Inevitably I am going to die and leave behind a bag of flesh, nothing more, nothing less.
And I am in the luxurious situation to kiss the world good-bye, because I have no one to look after except myself, and I deeply believe that I will always find a way to survive, and if I don’t, I won’t, and it won’t matter, because I’d rather not live than purely survive.
And every now and then, reality comes and tries to pull me. Away from myself, from the realizations that my brains has presented me with. But I’ve learned to find my way home, to myself.
As long as I discover opportunities, growth, love, anything thriving in my life, I will stay and I will keep on living, existing, wandering. And once the door closes and life becomes survival, I will leave. My attachment to life is irrational and I will overcome it once the time has come.
There is nothing to run after. I am just me. I am not real. I finally found peace.
Liza, writing prompt #73: Write about the lessons you learned this year.
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