Adele makes me cry. Sob, really. I want so much for people to realise how loved they are. Not a single person in this world doesn't matter somehow, to someone or something. And yet we treat each other like shit sometimes. Our own desires get in the way of common courtesy. We slam the door when we get home from a hard day at work. We shoot dirty looks at someone on the bus whose music is playing "too loudly". We play our music too loudly because we want to block out the memories of that fight we got in last night. We make fun of someone for dressing in skimpy clothes or sleeping around. We sit alone in the dark at night and wonder if we'll ever become something more. We wonder if it's true that everyone dies alone, in the end. If maybe, no matter how many surround you as you leave this world, the journey is ultimately yours. If maybe, in that last moment, as you draw your last breath, you'll be struck with the consciousness that you have either achieved everything that you ever wanted or nothing that ever mattered.
Life doesn't work like that. It's full of ups and downs, and "the good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant." We're stuck in this paradox where everything we say and do is simultaneously important and worthless. In the end, it may not matter. But it matters to us. It matters to the people with whom we come into contact. And despite what we say, we care so much. Even people who say that they don't care, for one reason or another, have some reason, some drive, that negates their claim. Even someone who claims that he or she can't care has something keeping him or her alive. It could be a conviction. It could be a desire. It could be a principle. It still stands that something keeps them alive. Even people who commit suicide (even if "nothing matters anymore") have made a choice, however hopeless they felt beforehand.
How we interact with people can impact our dreams and goals and desires. If we walk around feeling worthless, chances are, we're going to treat ourselves as such. But you can't just rely on one person to make you feel loved. What happens when that person goes away? What happens when they can't operate in the same capacity and you're stuck in a dark place, where you feel like you're locked in a small room with a stiff bed and too few pillows, wondering if you're ever going to feel whole again? How do you move forward? How do you move on? How do you wake up every morning and convince yourself that you're important enough to get out of bed and do something with your life?
It's frustrating when you look back at a relationship and you see all of the flaws. I wish that I had been less petty when you told me that you needed to hang out with other people because I know now that I fucked you over in that regard. I left you with a huge hole in your life. And although I'm sure that you'll find other people to hang out with, you're right - I can't let go. I can't let go because I force myself to remember the good times. The times when I wasn't crying, yelling, screaming, putting my foot down for what I thought I "deserved". The truth it, I didn't deserve any of it. I wasn't worth your time. But I accept that you gave it to me because that's the only way I can get you to accept that you were, you are, so worth mine.
But it's not just romantic (or... whatever) relationships that I struggle with. It's all of them. Every relationship I have ever had, I am so afraid of failing at, mainly because I have tried and failed before. I give so much of myself away to other people because I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to get people to stay. And I can't be alone. Being alone is like a death sentence for me. So I give. I give until I have nothing left, and then I keep giving. My emotional and mental energy will be depleted, and I will still find a way to give. Because for me, not giving feels like letting everyone down. Not giving means that if something bad happens to someone I love, it's my fault because I wasn't there. I expect myself to anticipate every bad thing that will ever happen and try to protect people or be there for them in spades when things go poorly.
Admittedly, being in another country is probably good for me in that regard. It forces me to see that people are just fine without me. It forces me to be less available to listen to everyone else bitch about how horrible life has been to them, how they don't deserve the pain and suffering.
At what point do you stop and ask yourself if maybe no one is really out to get you, that pain and suffering happens to everyone, and that even though someone else's life seems perfect, they may be struggling all the same. People are equipped with different strengths and weaknesses in life, and it's so unfair to compare yourself to other people... and vice versa. I'm not saying that occasionally venting is a bad thing. In fact, it is for that reason that I keep a journal (which I'm shit at updating). But perception isn't everything.
Sometimes I hate Facebook because people tend to post their absolute best on there. My newsfeed is flooded with best days, best opportunities, best smiles, best successes, best pairs, best companions. Rarely do we see the pain. Rarely do we see the stories of the work that it took to get to those successes. We want people to think that we're naturally talented in everything that we set our minds to. We want people to envy us.
Which brings me back to this idea about death. At 2am, I probably shouldn't dwell too much on these thoughts, as I have so much work to do tomorrow, but I've been left to my own devices, and I've relied on someone for far too long to get me through the nights. At what point do you take your life back into your own hands and just say that you're going to get through this? How long before you realise that sometimes you just have to walk around with an open wound and be reminded that you're only human? We're so caught up in this idea that everything has to be perfect that we're too afraid of failure.
I live in self-doubt. I live in the fear that I will never be good enough. That I will never be smart enough. That I will never be... enough. For anything. For anyone. Certainly not good enough to survive this year in grad school. Certainly not motivated enough or ambitious enough to not only do my work but go above and beyond to ensure my future success.
Why is it that when someone dies, we like to gather around and remember only the good bits? People don't really talk about substance abuse or depression or little things like being messy (unless it feeds into a funny anecdote). When someone dies, people post these eloquent eulogies on Facebook and blogs and Tumblr and announce to the whole world that this person lived. They did things new and noteworthy and perfect. They took the world by storm and conquered it. Why don't we ever talk about the struggle, the fights, the pain? Is it because loss is already painful enough? Is that why we grab onto the best bits and try desperately to hold out hope that we'll feel that way again some time?
I tend not to pick fights. If I were to die tomorrow, people could say a lot of bad things about me, but I don't think a single one would. Because we look at the life of someone else and struggle to find meaning for our own. Someone who's taken away "young" can impact us especially, as we say that they "haven't really lived." What defines that?
Who sat down one day and wrote down a list of things to do in life to fully experience all it has to offer?
For my part, I want to live my own life. I want to make my own mistakes and learn from them. And if my biggest triumph was simply getting out of bed every day, then I think that I have still really lived, even if I die tomorrow. Sure, there would be a lot that I hadn't gotten to do, but just because we have expectations for someone else's life doesn't make that life any more mediocre or void if they don't meet our vision for them. It just means that they've gone down a different path. And there's nothing wrong with that.
People don't need to do something that's notable in human history in order to be notable in someone's history.
For now, maybe just let it suffice that no matter what you decide to do, there will be someone here who will still love you. You could decide that you really just want to stay at home and watch TV and read books and work to live. So be it. That's your life. That's not mine. And I will still love you. Embrace your regrets and keep moving forward. That's all we can do. Keep pressing on. Because if you don't, what's the point of trying at all?
When you die, no matter how you go, if you even got a split second to ask yourself if you're doing what you really want to do, what would your answer be?
I came to England. If that's all that I get out of this... Okay. And if I fail out of my Masters programme because I become overwhelmed by my depression... Okay. So I'm not the person that I'd like to be. But maybe that's just because I don't know what kind of person I am yet. I'm so wrapped up in what I think everyone expects me to be that I've never aimed for self-discovery. My path has been one shadowed by perceived expectations. Every time I sit down to figure out who I am and who I want to be, I am overcome by fear that I will disappoint someone.
Truth is, you can't make everyone happy. That's just impossible. Hell, you might not even be able to find happiness yourself. But isn't it worth a damn to just try it? Just to see what happens?
//The storms are raging on the rolling sea and on the highway of regret.//
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