Sometimes I wish I had the ability to forge words like silver.
I’m at a point in my life where I know that a huge weight would be thrown off my shoulders if I had the ability to articulate all the things I feel about people into meaningful sentences.
But I can’t. It’s just not in me.
Maybe I fear the consequences of saying these things: rejection, being looked down upon, getting disappointing replies either due to lack of enthusiasm or due to them just not being the reactions that I seek.
Maybe my brain needs to rest. I’ve been through so much. I need to sit back and relax, do the stuff I like to do, do the stuff I love to do. Sometimes all you need to silence the crowd of thoughts in your mind is to do nothing, think nothing, say nothing – just lay on the ground and look into the vast nothingness of space. Basically, all you need sometimes is to forget about being a responsible adult for at least two days.
Maybe I shouldn’t say these things. Sure, my mind wants me to say them, but do I have to? Maybe they’re wrong. Maybe they’re rude. Maybe they’re better left unsaid. Maybe they’ll ruin my friendships if they come out. Maybe it’s too much information, but my mind wants to say them because it doesn’t want to bear the burden of knowing them alone. Thinking about it, most of these things should never come out of my mouth for one or more of these reasons. My mind compels me to say these things out loud, but I don’t know why. The mind works in mysterious ways.
I’ve been through so much lately that I feel like saying these things out loud will unlock my full potential and transform me into a higher being. It’s that huge of a deal.
Sometimes I do things, and I don’t know why I do them.
Sometimes I hang out with absolutely anyone just for the sake of not being alone, and then realize mid-hangout that I want to go home.
Sometimes I zone out while looking at a friend who is talking to me. Sometimes I don’t even look at them. More often I feel happy when I look at their pictures, even when I’m not with them. Sometimes I squeeze my head to remember the face of a friend I meet almost every day, even though I could just look up their pictures on my phone – no, wait – even though remembering their face is not an urgent matter that requires me to exert such mental effort.
Sometimes I look at the floor for too long just to rest my eyes. Sometimes I end up asking myself philosophical questions when that happens. Some other times, I overthink.
Sometimes I feel like walking a long distance to a place I want to go to. Sometimes I just order myself an Uber and save myself the hassle. Whether I do the former or the latter is decided by mere chance.
Sometimes I want to just go ahead and dis people on social media who say mean or wrong things to people online and teach them a lesson on respect, but I never actually do it. I’m not sure if it’s fear of backlash or simply knowing it’s a waste of time to argue with these people.
Sometimes I write posts on my social media to impress certain people. Rarely do they ever react to these posts. I don’t know what makes me want to impress them. Maybe I find a mentor in them. Maybe I see them as a role model that I want to be like. There are so many friends of mine that have done great things and have great talents. Maybe I just want to see myself among them.
I never knew why I do these things. I feel like I need to get a psychology book to understand why things like these happen.
The old me is dead, and yet I have to deal with the remnants of the emotional baggage he held for a decade and a half.
I don’t hate the old me. I don’t feel bad for him, either. He’s in a better place now.
Though I know he wasn’t a bad person, I just feel like I should’ve become what I am today much, much earlier.
He was a burden on his own shoulders. He spent his last New Years Eve smoking in the dead of the night, alone, scrolling through his phone, wishing someone would just check and see if he was fine. It sucked to be the old me.
But old me didn’t want to keep suffering. He got up. He went to a therapist. Once he was done, he started looking for more help. He went through a surgical transformation as a person, and then he died. He died to let a new and improved version of himself take over this vessel of flesh and bone.
I’m grateful for the old me for not giving up. If he did give up, I wouldn’t have become what I am today.
And yet, I overthink when I’m not supposed to. I more often look at the glass as half-full, but that seldom stopped me from drowning in my own thoughts.
More often, I want to spread my positive energy in a 5-mile radius around my home, but I’m never able to. At that moment, I view myself as a superhero who is capable of bringing joy to those around him, but as soon as I’m burnt out, I realize that I’m trying to do God’s job.
So, I just stay in the realm of mortals, and be me – be the best me that I can be.
2019 has been kind to me. 2019 has given me lots of great new friends. 2019 took me out of my old faculty and put me in a university where I finally feel like I belong. In short, 2019 made me ready for what’s to come in the new decade.
My resolution for the new year is simply this: to say things only if I need to, to not be afraid of standing for what is right, to not be ashamed of my flaws and to embrace them, and finally, to regain my energy of old and be the showman that I always daydream to be.
I wish you all joy, happiness, and success in the new year. This may not be a short story like the others, but be sure that there’ll be more stories in the coming year. Happy new year!