I think I can safely say that I have spent a major portion of my adult life being jaded and perpetually dissatisfied. I’d attribute this to one part existential crisis and nine parts being shit out of luck. I also spent my entire adult life taking care of myself with barely anyone being around to vent out my true feelings or fears to. It’s not that I didn’t have friends, it was more that I never really opened up completely to anybody.
But a couple of years ago, I led myself to believe that things were taking a turn for the better. That everything would be alright. That I could “depend” on other human beings for support. Recent events have made me realise that that, to put it bluntly, I was grossly mistaken. That that was just an aberration. That I am always meant to miss that feeling of completeness. That I am alone. I am alone when I am alone, when I am with someone, when I am with friends, when I am with throngs of people.
You must wonder what is bringing this on; well it’s not one isolated incident, obviously. It’s a slow realization – a jigsaw that starts getting assembled piece by piece with every little disappointing episode, when you end up hammering heavy paintings on your walls because apparently you can’t get help even when you’re willing to pay or when you get home from work to an empty apartment and have to do your laundry at 1am because you dont have any other time or when noone really really listens to what you have to say anymore without interrupting (in the name of empathizing) or when the ones you love the most hurt you the most (and often). Yes, that jigsaw, the one you broke up, shuffled and stowed away 2 years ago because there were other paintings to paint.
What really stings is not the loneliness itself nor that relentless feeling of accountability and pressure (that is in some part, self-inflicted), but the inability to understand why those around exacerbate the pressure, why they choose to kick me when I’m down.
I don’t know what to wish for. I don’t know how to tell them that I don’t like how they’re treating me. I don’t want to feel alone when there are people who claim to be family. I want to be rude, I want to stand up for my feelings but I don’t want to hurt them the way they hurt me. I want to tell someone how I really feel. I want to talk and actually be listened to without being interrupted. I want to scream at something or someone other than this screen. And in the meantime, it’s back to being jaded.