I aspire to be delicate. Gently touching souls, healing emotional wounds with words. Bringing fairness, peace of mind, filling people's life beautiful chaos that feels like order. Where people can roam and be free, love extensivelly, lose pressure. My last memorable friction was when I was asked: Who do you live for, others or yourself? When I stated this for me personally is indeniably intertwined, I received the feedback that this belief would eventually destroy me. It might be, they might be right. I might begin to feel like I am looking at my life through a telescope. Floating somewhere with no end, staring at pointless action in random order. Bring structure they say, make time for yourself they say, it will solve your problems. Maybe I am stubborn but my mind does not feel like a place for structure. I would not even know where to start and I highly doubt it would make me happy, since routine is the thing I dread the most. I would not even know how to do things for myself, if I think of what I like doing the most myself it is always for others. I would invite my coworker to have Christmas dinner at my place and I would make a fancy ass dessert. I would visit my grandparents daily and listen to stories about their youth. I would take my friend to London. If I would only have the time to do the things I would like to. It takes money and money comes from enslaving yourself to work, which sucks up all the time you have. I have been this sceptical and frustrated for a long time. It is keeping me from being delicate.
As I wandered through my mind I felt the tendency to portray myself as a bad person. The worst ever thoughts would cross, as my presence in the lives of the people I love would be a strange punishment for the things they would have done wrong. This because I would infinitely lack in loving people the way they deserve, making them worse off. I had to put these thoughts onto words because I scare myself, why do I feel the need to belittle myself to the point where there is no respect left? Do I feel comfort in portraying myself as a demon? If I think about it a second longer I KNOW there is absolutely no truth in my anxiety. As I have read somewhere people tend to become addicted to their own sadness. This addiction makes it harder to see things as they are at times. I am slowly starting to believe though, that my shortcomings have roots that are not meant to be demonized but appreciated. It exposes inner tension, unrelated to the people around me. Where I feel that I cannot give people ...
Comments
Post a Comment