I have many fears in life. I think that is one of the main reasons why I tend to get anxious and have had the pleasure to be acquainted with a sickness called gerd. What’s funny is that I know where all my fear stems from: the idea of being not enough.
This will always lead me to my second question: who am I trying to prove my worth? Is it my family? My ever so perfect friends? Or just me? It would be hilarious — to think that I would judge myself so hard that I end up being terrified of my own mind. But after quite some time, I have realised that that is exactly how I feel, and how many people out there are experiencing too.
Another hilarious thing to point out is that despite being my biggest critic, I never know exactly what I want. I play so many scenarios in my head, drifting from one story to another. I have passed countless lifetimes with the stories that I have created for myself. Yet, I cannot seem to pinpoint my favourite track — something good enough for this one-shot life that I have.
I think is pretty dangerous. I am going to graduate soon, yet I don’t know what kind of life I want. Sure, sometimes it the fates themselves that choose our paths. And sure, some people are lucky enough to be able to change their lifepath in the middle of the road (then preach to the world saying everyone can do it). But is that really true? Do we all actually have the privilege of swerving our lives so radically without expecting any spillovers? Maybe. But as someone who fears losing everything that she has, I don’t think that I will bet on that chances.
Conclusion of part I: I am a coward who might lose every second of a better life just because I do not want to leave my comfort zone.
I have many fears in life. It is so disgusting how many times I run away from a scene just because I was terrified. Either so, I think I have figured out my worst fear: the feeling of longing.
A melodramatic and irrational fear from a privileged and pretentious girl. Who would’ve thought, am I right? I hope you realise the sarcastic undertones of that sentence because I know how stupid my fear truly is.
Ever since I was a child, I have had this gnawing feeling in my head, begging to be fulfilled. It begs of me to do arrogant things and throw caution to the wind. It calls on me to be the femme fatale and the ingenue at the same time. It wants me to be so many things that I am not — without telling me how to do it.
Lately, it has been begging me to live and see the world. It is trying to drive me to be a wallflower in some timid city in Europe. It is driving me to take interest in obscure subjects, all hoping to find the fountain of happiness and fulfilment. Every time I close my eyes, I would see a small apartment with light blue hues. A room filled with scattered books regarding ancient civilization and mysticism: I am so mad at how unpractical all this is. Why can’t I just be normal and have normal interests — interests that I know could give me a stable life and help with my savings. Why is my head begging me to think of the dead?
I also see myself being alone. A weird image remembering that I hate being lonely. I cannot live with the idea of having no friends and no one to talk to. But my head wants me to do just that. It thrives in this dark imagery that I might be someone who holds the secret to the universe. I don't, and I never will.
My head still thinks that I have a shot in that life, being successful at that too. So it sticks and makes a home within me. And it calls on every part of my mind to wish for that life. It gets sickening because no one knows how to get to whatever future my head wants to go, let alone me. So what does it do? It yearns.
The feeling purposely jumps out to real-life whenever I consume certain media or literature. It begs to become my shadow, all while never telling me where the sun actually stands. And as it dances in my presence, all I feel is that empty feeling in me, wanting to be fulfilled and taken care of.
And so with that, the least that I can do is try and trigger less of this suffocating obsession. I refrain from watching certain shows, from listening to certain music, from searching too much about certain things that are relevant to that notion. It works, yes, but it is so sickening. I am depriving myself of minor forms of entertainment just because I don’t want to feel pain. I tell myself it is better not to feel happy than not to feel at all. I am dehumanising myself so much just because I am scared of feeling numb.
I think the worst part of this longing is that I know it will never go away. If I somehow manage to attain that dramatic life my head wants, somehow perform every single scenario I have played in my head in real life, somehow just live, I know that it’s not enough.
Once the words are scratched, my head will long for something new. It will constantly be happy of the maybe successes of the future, rather than being happy with me now. Simply saying, I don’t know if I will ever feel content. And why should I bother with deepening my longing if I can’t give myself the satisfaction that I need?
I do not want to clean up a mess that I could have easily mobilise through. And I want this longing to stop. I want to be human without having to force myself to live. I want to experience a life where I stop all the what-ifs and just be okay with what the universe gives me. I just want to be okay.
Conclusion of part II: I dehumanise myself so that I don’t have to face the pain of never knowing what true contentment is like.
I am tired, angry, and confused. What more can a girl love and fear?
