Sometimes I feel like my heart is being ripped into a thousand pieces. I’ve always been the one in my family who feels the most, and expresses the least. Yesterday I replied to a comment where I said that I’m not the one to bottle anything up. I forgot to mention that I bottle everything up when it comes to family matters. It’s just the way things have been. I haven’t been raised to express myself.
So here I sit, silently feeling, not being able to say or do anything. And being misunderstood. My silence is always misunderstood, and so are my words. Because when I do finally decide to speak, it’s mostly to get the negativity out. It doesn’t mean I hate everything and everyone, just that I’m exploding. But who is wise enough to understand something like that in these quarters?
For the past few years I have been surrounded with problems. Literally surrounded. Wherever I look there are issues and the solutions are only imaginary. They are the product of my daydreams. And [day]dreaming gets you nowhere.
I am sick and tired of everything – most of all to pretend like everything is alright. Sometimes I feel like some of my friends are still children… but the truth is that it’s I who had to grow up too early. To face all this. To understand it. And understanding is a burden. Understanding an issue means taking a chunk of the load on your own shoulders. And being the useless figure that I am, the only thing I can do is cringe from the pain laid on me.
What a bizarre situation I am in… sometimes I wish I could laugh it off. Laugh and laugh until my laughter spreads like a virus and the whole house is shaken. And all the negativity has fallen down the drains. Left is a fresh start, a blank new page where I get to write the first word. That word would be: empathy.
Picture from: http://www.ivoryandart.com/servlet/the-732/netsuke,ivory,mammoth/Detail