Depression had printed its mark on me. I can see that every time I look down at my left arm. I thought I was this screwed up bastard and the only way I knew how to ease my being screwed up was to plunge into loneliness. I loved being sad. I would lie for hours just thinking about my miseries. I could write sad poems back then because I felt alone and I embraced the entirety of it.
It is a cliché but happiness is a choice. I did not whole-heartedly choose to be happy. I just grew out of being lonesome. I have come to accept that people come and go into our lives – I just had more people going out of my life. I did not become numb. I just stopped feeling sorry for myself. I don’t think I have already toughened up because I know I have more years ahead of me. I might be even having my first nervous breakdown when I’m forty.
As much as I would love to lengthen this article with my life saga, I wouldn’t want to delve into those miserable memories anymore. And I wouldn’t want to share to the world that part of my life. I guess I may have shared everything to people I used to consider close. I may share some more information to people I would meet in the future but I hope I would be able to limit those information. It just takes away the privacy in me.
As what I have already mentioned, people just come and go. And I have learned quite a big of a lesson. I stopped feeling close to people. I’m careful now to consider someone close. Not that I wasn’t careful before, but I’m tiptoeing on the idea now. Friendship can be strong but it will always be fragile (relative to your history).
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment