I feel sick to my stomach and faint of heart
I think of what I’ve lost
I wonder how I’ve kept from completely falling apart
Life is a journey
For some, that journey is hard and cold
Every time I seem to get warm, it starts to snow
Some people are gone due to death taking it’s toll
Some people are gone due to life’s changing roles
Whether taken from the earth, or just from my life, you remain forever in my heart
Whether you are floating in heaven, or walking in a nearby park
If I don’t have you, then I think of what I’ve lost
I’ve lived my life as a stranger to myself.
I woke up as me,
but what did that mean?
I went through the motions,
raised my hand when my name was called,
but when I got home,
I didn’t know who I really was.
You’re beautiful, talented, and smart – I was told;
but when I got home, I just felt alone and cold.
Cold, so I hurried into my bed
to hide from the world,
but mainly to hide from myself.
Sleep was my vice;
sleeping meant I didn’t have to think about my life.
Day after day, I hid from myself.
No happiness shone through my tired eyes.
I was miserable at best.
The sun was shining, so she closed her blinds as she swept her bangs from over her eyes; the brightness and glow was too much for her damaged soul to bear. An old and tattered floral chair, like the ones you see abandoned beside dumpsters, called itself home in the dimly lit corner of her room; she saw much beauty and history in things others only wanted out of their way. She also possessed a beauty that was often overlooked. By the chair sat a small table passed down from generations of people she would never know; old, dirty, and abused, the table beautifully held a caramel latte and an antique sea-foam green book. She adored things that others didn’t. In her over-sized sweater, her nervous hands picked at the threads as she imagined the outside world. Bright and happy, she thought, they just won’t understand; as always, she smiled shyly to herself, swept her silky hair behind her ear, and made that old chair home. Quietly sipping her coffee and taking in the dusty smell of her favorite book, she knew that things aren’t so bad after all.
I’m hurt, and it’s your fault; you can’t tell me that it isn’t. My heart didn’t ache because someone else canceled plans. I didn’t cry because someone else ignored my calls for help. You say I’m needy; fine, I am. I’m needy, but you’re selfish. You’re so selfish that, in your mind, your actions don’t affect other people. You tell me that I shouldn’t care; you don’t understand why I care. You know what? I don’t understand why I ever cared either. I say I won’t get attached; I say that, this time, unlike all the others, I won’t care too much. I won’t latch onto your heart. That’s bullshit. I will always care too much, and I will always get attached. That’s my flaw, but also my beauty, is how much of myself I am willing to invest in everyone else. You were a wasted investment. Although it pains me so very deeply to let someone go, I did; someone so selfish doesn’t deserve someone so selfless. I’ll sleep just the same, because I know that I’ve done nothing wrong. You’re the one losing someone who would’ve loved you deeper than any other ever will.. but we both knew this would happen all along.
I latch onto things. I cling to people. I hold people too close to my heart without their permission. I care too much, and I feel too deeply. After all of the pain I have endured, you think I’d be able to detach, but that isn’t the case. There has never been a point in my life that I haven’t latched onto another human being. There has never been a time where I go to sleep without someone on my mind. There is never a time when I look at my phone without hoping I have a message from a certain someone.
I’m a hopeless romantic, as much as it pains me to admit that. When I’m sad, I dream of my prince charming showing up at my door to comfort me. When I hear a car, I hope it’s him surprising me just because he wanted to see me. I wish for flowers just because. I anxiously await a sweet good morning text message. Each person I meet, I dream of these things that I know I’ll never get.
While I’m falling asleep thinking of you, I’m not on your mind at all. While I’m dreaming of sleeping beside you, you’re probably sleeping beside someone else. When I wake up and text you that I hope you have a wonderful day, you’ve probably just sent that same text to another. I think of you throughout the day and hope you’re well, meanwhile, I’m still not anywhere on your mind. As I’m writing this, alone and rather sad, you’re happy. You’re happy without me or anyone else, and I’m angry. I’m angry because I’m not only bad at being alone, I just don’t know how.
As of recent, my life has took a turn towards my worst fear: my father getting old and sick.
I am twenty-three years old; my parents have been together for over thirty years. My mother is twenty-five years younger than my dad; my mom is fifty-three and my dad is seventy-eight. Growing up, my dad was not young and playful like all of the other dads I saw with my friends. He was in the prime of his business career, busy working in the garage, always running about- things any healthy fifty-something-year-old would enjoy doing. Up until less than a year ago, my father has had no significant health issues; he was still active, his mind was sharp. Then, all of the sudden.. things changed. Things changed drastically. My mother and I, scared and confused, avoided showing any fear. My father, for a long time, denied anything was wrong. The reality of the situation was obvious to everyone except for him.
My worst fear, as a child and as an adult, was this happening. It was seeing my dad go downhill. It was seeing him using a cane or a walker. It was seeing him forget how to form sentences. It was seeing him forget things that he has always known. It was seeing him forget how to add up money to pay the cashier. It was seeing him lose the ability to drive. It was seeing him in diapers. It was seeing him old.
I am reaching out for help. Tons of adults face going through this with one or both of their parents, just not at my age. In the beginning of my adult life, trying to figure out who I am and make my place in the world, I just cannot seem to grasp what is happening. I need more time to pass before I can deal with this, but sadly, I do not have time on my side. Anyone, regardless of age (although it would be nice to communicate with someone around my age about this), please.. let me know how to cope. Give me tips on how to process this. Help me accept this as reality. Any kind words, stories, advice, prayers, thoughts, etc. are more than welcome.
-I apologize for my prolonged absence; life has been
a living hell difficult as of recent.-
I have countless things to say, but no words in mind to express those things.
I will let my thoughts flow.
I am filled with sadness, worry, guilt, anxiety, apathy, and anger. I feel as though I am a voodoo doll and some higher power has a vengeance against me; my body has been set ablaze and my energy has been drained. My mind, well, might as well be noodles for someone to feast on. I walk around feeling displaced and drunk, but yet I am completely sober. I worry about myself, about my father and mother, but what good does that do? Nothing. I lie in bed, drained, depressed, sick. Why?
Since childhood, I have longed to be happy. I have never been like the others I see around me. The others are happy, upbeat, charismatic, optimistic, giggly, and excited for the next part of their day. I feel more than them. I see more than them. Their auras, their personalities, their demeanor.. I can feel it. I meet someone and see their smile and hear what they tell me, how they want me to see them, but I see so much more. “It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply.” I am blessed to be able to experience the world in a way that the others can not. I am cursed because the world is overwhelming to my senses; a typical day is exhausting. But, I do not wish to change.
I would rather be aware than to be ignorant and happy, like the others.