From a forgotten date,
Selah.
It has almost been three full years since I first encountered the restlessness and emptiness inside myself, not knowing why the duality of one's self that slowly tortures how one performs in the stage of life. But yet... it gives birth to a more meaningful life — it is what it is, the death of meaning that means so meaningful. A meaning of nothingness.
In this course of time, a process of iterative discovery and exploration of life, mine, is yet to be pursued. I have come to realize that I am a sensitive being, one may call it a trait, a blessing, and a curse. To be easily absorbing of the world, and to — at most extent — feel terribly, deeply.
It is suiting to be in silence, as it is enough for my sensory to feel comprehended. Additions of stimulus — be it the presence of another person, the gaze and the gesture that follows, the assumed story that one withholds — can be staggering. Add more of that, a crowd, an amplified voice, or the unease of a person in the same room — there I will find myself overwhelmingly overwhelmed. And that is an understatement.
The feeling of too much is indeed unwanted, but inevitable. Therefore, I agonize... profoundly... entirely driving me to the urge of trying to end my own breath, to put life to a stop.
I recollect the possibilities of why this has to betide.
Is it the chemical imbalance in my brain making me such a drama queen?
Or is it past traumatic events that manifests in my vision whenever any form of triggers recall?
Is it the social pressure that exhibits from high expectations and so it challenges the pragmatic conception from my mind?
Or is it just a manipulation to form some sort of escapism?
Is it the question of... what's the point?
Or is it all of the above?
It has not come to my senses on why the state I am in is unbearable to take logic of.
The happiness and pleasure that comes from mundane occurrences is something that I usually enjoy since early life. It is bliss and a gift for one to be a part of this world of oddities. It is mesmerizing. I am thankful.
Despite that, on the other side of the coin I am not displaying actions that support the latter. Seems that I am downgrading my life, accomplishing things that leads to a resentment of life, that is... to cut off the years to live, slowly but sure.
The existence of my own is too much, I do not know what is underlying this predicament and what will become of this if this feeling keeps on emerging. The summary of it all can be promptly stated in one question — "to live or not to live?".
Comentarios