I am extremely reluctant to expressing my feelings to other people. In my mind, my delusional mind, I’m this supportive person who wouldn’t think twice about offering emotional support to who ever needs it. Not only in my mind, also on paper, and blogs, and text messages, and Facebook posts, and tweets, and -rarely- on the phone. That’s as far as it gets.
In person I might as well be a seemingly disinterested fellow that finds not a trace of compassion in his heart.
Sometimes I feel too self-aware. I wonder if people who know me both in person as well as online ever see this tremendous rift between the two realities I claim ownership of. I wonder if it causes them as much anxiety and discomfort as it causes me. I wonder if they ever consider building a bridge that binds my yin and my yang, so to speak.
Few people care. Of those who care, few stand a chance. Of those who do, one or none at all would actually succeed.
I wish I didn’t need help. I wish I could do it on my own, my very own.
Unexpressed emotions suffocate me. They build up in my heart and overflow. They fill the space I have in my chest and press against my throat. They take up all space there is, my heart struggles to beat. They carry on building up but my throat tightens even more. They fill my stomach and I lose the will to eat anything. They fill my veins, I feel the blood rushing up to my brain and crowding my head. Pressure builds up and up, emotions turn into condensed form, something like salty water, and finally find tiny tiny passages they could escape through drop by drop; tear drop by tear drop.
Oh, you. Pathetic you!
I’m a hard stone in which a pure water spring awaits impatiently for a miracle in the time of no miracles. I’m the person I was and the person I want to be in constant battle.
Ya Allah.. It’s just so hard going deep into my true emotions! I don’t want to complain… It’s just so painful.
I guess it’s painful because I would rather all those feelings just weren’t there. I wish I were detached. I wish I didn’t need the people I need.
Enough. This whole pathetic issue doesn’t even deserve a blog post. Maybe someday I’ll find me a therapist instead of writing blog posts.