I can't think. I can't concentrate. I don't even know what's going on in my life any more. There are some strange thoughts that plague my mind that I can't seem to shake off; there is someone who keeps on invading my thoughts and prevents me from being productive. I hate it, I hate it so much.
"Just forget it! Leave them be!" Wise words, probably--- not the most practical advice though, I'm afraid. Were it so easy to just forget someone, I think I would be a much happier person. Lately I've had so many discussions with my close friend about what it means to care about someone. My troubles transformed, from not-caring about someone and thus unable to show concern, to caring about someone I wish I could forget. My life would be easier that way.
Is it too cruel to wish someone out of your life? Yet I know if they disappeared I would grieve for ages and become quite inconsolable. What I need is a healthy dose of amnesia, really. It's almost like I'm suffering from PTSD.
To compound my latest frustrations, I re-discovered my diary which I had not written in for many months. I realized all my previous entries were full of depressing tales, and apparently I wanted to kill myself by overdosing on morphine on New Year's Eve of 2013. It turns out I had gone back to my parents' place for Christmas, my mother said something which absolutely tipped me over the edge, and I became woefully depressed and mildly suicidal. I'm kind of frightened that I thought that way once- since by then I had technically already moved out and everything should have been going swimmingly.
I think I'm just more grateful to be alive these days. I found out about the explosions in Tianjin, China today. That's where I could've gone to uni, really. I could be a +1 to the talley of missing bodies, or among those in hospital suffering from burns, blunt trauma and organ failure due to the force of the explosion. That's me, in a different timeline, living a different possibility. Therefore I should be grateful for where I am now, shouldn't I. Physically capable, clever and incredibly good at being liked by others. Here I am, sitting comfortably, troubled by self-invented woes while thousands of lives are being torn apart on a different continent.
What the fuck does it even mean, to be a better person? There have always been people I looked up to- and I decided I would select their best qualities, and copy them. Since they had these qualities I admired, if I worked towards it myself, I would surely be advancing myself. It's wrong. It's so, so wrong. I had no idea what some people traded to become what I admired. I don't even mean "hard work" and "effort", I mean they suffered, suffered greatly, and perhaps only circumstance forced them to become the person they are. If I had understood the price they paid, perhaps I would not wish to be like them at all.
Nights like these make me rethink my goals for cultivating certain virtues. Virtues are virtues because they are approved by society; flaws are flaws because they do not benefit me. Once in a while I'd like someone to say, "even if your best is not good enough, your best is all you can give and all anyone can reasonably expect from you". In truth, only one person has ever said that to me, Though they are no longer a part of my life, I am so grateful for those words- so when they resonate in my mind, I know it is an echo of words that had once been spoken, as opposed to a device of my desperate imagination.
And maybe on occasions like these- when I've stayed up far too late and feel very strangely depressed, maybe it's ok to print my slanted thoughts onto slanted lines.
No comments:
Post a Comment