Month: March, 2013

Barely Breathing

by retrodiction

Occasionally, I get into one of these moods, where everything upsets me, and I want to punch somebody in the face. Then I want to spontaneously burst into tears for absolutely no reason at all — except, I can’t. I just can’t. My tear ducts just will not comply. And then I will watch Captain America (or whatever else happens to be on TV) and I will feel my heart ache, and my eyes will well up with tears, just because I find the movie so damn ridiculous. 

I mean, who runs a mile a minute with nothing but a shield and never, absolutely never, gets shot. Not even once. Those German soldiers must be one hell a bunch of rejects.

So this silly movie will make me feel thousands of negative emotions, and I won’t be able to focus on anything for the day (in fact, for days to come). But the best I can do, is only to recognise that I’m feeling these negative emotions. Negative representing a big umbrella of emotions I cannot even begin to describe. Not because I don’t want to, or that I can’t find the words for them, but mostly because I don’t recognise them.

I cannot tell frustration from sadness, or disappointment, or loneliness, or hurt. All I ever do is swing from anger to numbness with the snap of a finger. And if I’m lucky enough for it to be a good day, I overflow with joy. Like, “non-stop giggling, endless jokes and high on 10 cans of Red Bull” joy. The worst part of it all, is that I don’t even know what made a ‘good day’ good, and a ‘bad day’ bad. I cannot predict how I am going to feel the next morning, hell I don’t even know how I’m going to feel in the next ten minutes.

So right now, I’m somewhere between hopeless and numb. I woke up this way and it’s barely mid-afternoon but already, I can’t wait for the sun to set. Except, I have an endless list of important things to do, but I don’t feel the urgency for any of it. In fact, if it were up to me, I would probably curl up in bed for the next 7 days and hibernate. But then again, I wouldn’t be able to do anything but lie there, tossing and turning. The silence that fills my senses isn’t enough to drown out the noise inside my head — or the numbness inside my heart.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone has felt any these things before, (of course there is, silly me) where my heart feels hollow and heavy, and it weighs on my ribcage and my lungs. And if I imagine— figuratively— what my heart looked like, I picture this organ the size of my fist; dull red like the colour of dried blood; fragile like the sun-dried leaf. It is frayed at the edges, and each crack is a vein that has long ran dry. And this overworked machine is an easily crumpled heart, falling in flakes like ashes in the wind. Ironic how something that feels so heavy, seems so weak and so light.

Yet this description is the epitome of my entire being.

I am sum of all my contradictions. My strengths are my weaknesses, and what I love, I also absolutely hate. I posses what I don’t want, and I want what I have left behind, threw away, abandoned.

I do not believe in wishes upon stars, or the eyelash I blew away. I much less believe in praying to a higher power for what I want. But today, like every other day, I will believe that I deserve to feel happy. That one day, I will stop single-handedly ruining my own life.

And until that day, I will believe that I can hold on.


Pictorial: Leaves, Bricks & Cobblestones

by retrodiction

pictorial - leaves bricks and cobblestones

All of life is a puzzle— The roots that feed the trees to fit the leaves on winding branches; The multitude of bricks so similar yet uniquely different, stacks a castle in thin air; The cobblestones beneath your feet fixes a path out of nowhere, promising only to lead you somewhere, anywhere—  The world and I.

Yellowing for years to come, occasionally dusted and admired from afar. No, no hands. No touching. No changes to be made. There is only one way to complete this puzzle, only one path I can take, and when it’s done, it’ll be the perfect picture of a life that I have made. Then I’ll hang it on a wall, without meaning or purpose, but still I’ll take pride, because it is something that I made.

For far too long, unconsciously, that was how I have lived my life. For single purposes, and lists to adhere to, and places I must be, things I must do, words I must say, and endless endless streams of goals to achieve. It is, of course then, with no surprise, that I admit that satisfaction was not a feeling I could relate to. Ever the over-achiever, failure was never far from my sight, when really, there was nothing for me to fail at. Because in not living a life I could love, I have never really succeeded to begin with.

My place in this world begins and ends with a word that, unfortunately, still dominates my life: Money.

Money makes the world go round. There is nothing money can’t solve. Money buys happiness.

Misconception, misconception, downright delusional.

Surely, life has not been just that for you? You must think. And of course it wasn’t. Young, free-spirited children have no care for money. I cared about that blanket fort I built with my sister. I cared about my scraped knee and bleeding fingers. I cared about imagining places that don’t exist. And in those places I was anyone I wanted to be, doing only things that I loved. And my place in this world, was the bedroom that yesterday, was a castle; today, is a volcano; tomorrow, might be the moon.

But the blanket forts turned to tables and computers, scraped knees paled in comparison to sleepless nights, and the bedroom— has but one practical use anymore.

These were the pieces to my puzzle for a “prefect” life.

The world is as static as I am unchanging, and this puzzle is all but a permanent fixture on an otherwise dull wall.