no one ever stops wanting but they have to balance what is impossible with what might be possible and try to make sense of their hopes and reality. they haven’t got a lot of hope, it would be unfair if they did. but they do the best with what they have. i mean, we can’t plan everything. life makes its own plans. sometimes we let each down; sometimes we fail each other; sometimes we break each other’s hearts; sometimes we leave. and sometimes we come back and sometimes we stick around. or sometimes it’s okay, even if we don’t. things happen and they are hard, too hard. we just get through them. that we are able. clear eyes, full hearts.
clear eyes. full heart. can’t lose.
I swam. Surrending to the allure of the ocean. Absconding in need to overcome. Going across its openness to explore its promise. Stroke after stroke. Very fast. Getting farther and farther.
Then the ocean’s allure lost its magical luster. It became just this familiar blank space. And I found myself not craving for its coolness or grace by how the waves danced, or that I was trying to escape. It became more about knowing what to do with my limbs. So often they had ended up around bad people, on the incorrect side of the bed, reaching into jars of sand that they never belonged in. There is a world full of oceans out there, we were only pouring ourselves into the wrong one.
This a test and I’m aware of my failure. I pretty much always knew I could never live up to such impossible standards. You may keep it in the back of your mind, I’d even like to think that you wish it weren’t true, but you, too, know I don’t fit well into that void. You’ll have no problem finding something else. I, on the other hand, now need to adjust to the differences in what I’ve recently learned.
I am lonely. Alone. People related to me tend to overlook that part of me. I stay quiet. Wallow silently. Appear like I have a life worth going. Act like the daughter, granddaughter, or niece everyone expected me to be. It’s the scrutiny of being under everyone’s utopia that breaks me. And sometimes, a minute miscalculated choice can sometimes condemn me for the rest of my life. And they’ll make sure I don’t forget it. Every day of my life.
Sometimes, when I sit in a corner and watch how freely my siblings can take charge of their choices and do whatever they please, I am envious. I desire how unrestricted they are on things that when I was younger I often got in trouble for and occasionally being reminded of it.
It’s hard accepting to wise up, act mature. It’s harder deciding to be responsible for other people other than myself. Owning something that you were unprepared for. Being drawn into a glass house and feeling like a stranger in the inside looking out. Losing what you want for what they want.
Somewhat a spotlight has been lit over my head and I interrogate myself. Why I have never taught myself to be selfish? Why I’ve always put what others’ want before I want? Why do I feel like I’m still failing everybody else’s expectations? Why I’m stalling the dreams I had when I was younger? Why I’m so much yet so chained to the worst circumstances?
And then I end up with no answers. Just this echoing song in my head to endure what is fact: just one more day it says and all will be okay. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn’t. Then I live life all over again.
The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on anyone or anything. You realize that you control your own destiny.
We are powerful because we have survived.
No pity. No shame. No silence.
I don’t know if I can call myself happy. I don’t think I can really – at the moment. What this euphoria I am feeling may well be because I’ve just recently discovered it. It’s not even because I neglected it but mainly because I’ve took some sweet time focusing on one person.
I wish this euphoria last. I really do. He makes me smile again – even in just a fleeting moment. And it’s nice, heartwarming.
I need someone to crawl inside my head and make my decisions for me. There are just some days when I cannot trust my own head—days when I don’t know what I want and cannot seem to figure it out.
My head is a strange, complicated place. I always come around, though.
For now, just tell me what to do.