I wasn't always so averse to people. Back then, I just preferred being alone. I called myself an introvert because I liked being on my own. Or at least, the things I liked to do are things that I can only do on my own, like reading or writing. Life goes on and I start seeing how unbearable it is to tolerate other people. I had issues of wanting to belong somewhere when I was a teenager. Like everyone else, I wanted to be with the cool group of people and be accepted as one of their own. Eventually, I realized that the time I spent with them always felt like exercises. It was never natural, and I have never felt at peace when I was with them. Only after stepping back did I realize how needy, uncool, and insecure they all really were. From then on, I always see people as hazards and obstacles in the day. I understand that I can be as cring-y as the rest of them, but handling myself is already enough as it is. I try not to burden other people, and I hope that everyone else will try not to be to me as well. With these thoughts, my life goes as follows.
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The Flight and the Fall
There’s a difference between humility and self shame. You are humble if you still believe in yourself and yet you don’t hold your abilities and talents above others. But you are merely shaming yourself if you look down on who you are and accept your lowly fate with a grudging acceptance.
At only 22, I have lost all confidence in myself. I know that I am still young and there is still an abundance of opportunities that will open itself up to me at some point in my life. But my fall had been a plummet from a deadly height. And now, I had broken every bone in my body, with only the small prayer to make my healing less painful.
I used to be a young and confident girl, living in a small village that sang praises of my talents. I was special, even though I didn’t really fit the image of what a local popular girl should be. I was creative and expressive, and I was full of potential. My eyes were always wide and filled with excitement, and I craved to leave the little village and storm to the city where I thought I belonged.
I was wrong.
The village was a bubble for those who were mediocre like me. We were made to believe that we were more than who we really are. And to be honest, I respect that. Those who never left the village still believe that they were special. And it was heartwarming to know that these people still continue to be obliviously happy.
I, on the other hand, had my heartbroken by the city of fumes and garbage. My dream to be a giant among dreamers shattered when the laughter of petty bullies follow me home as I cry into the night. I still didn’t want to go back to the village because the world became a larger place in my eyes. It was an eye opener, but at the same time, it was a horrible truth that can never be unheard of again.
In the midst of people fighting for their goals, I felt very small. I experienced defeat after defeat. And now I lay with nothing but time in my hands. I never pictured myself as the loser I feel like I am now, staying at home and eating my sorrow away, hiding from my friends because of the shame I felt for who i became, looking in the mirror and cringing at the sight that is reflected back at me.
I once praised myself for my brilliance. I always thought that I am smarter than the crowd in any room I will enter into. I felt like I deserve great things. I close my eyes and I envision my future, walking among peers that admired every step I take, the man of my dreams beaming as he held onto my arms protectively, the ones who bullied me cry to get my attention but I only ignored them, for a person as important as I am do not have time for petty people like them.
It was only a dream, a dream that may never come true now. There they all are, so close to what they envisioned. And yet here I am, slipping off from the cliff I tried so hard to hang onto. I hanged there with one arm for years, and I kept believing that I would be able to pull myself up at some point in time. I heaved as I watched the others who used to laugh at me sore to the skies with their newly formed wings. I cried to the skies to give me the gift I deserved and to help me go back up on my feet.
The sky was as silent like a hollow cave, merely echoing my cries of despair. The stars felt like glaring heat, mocking me of my fruitless attempts to be okay. Until my arm broke off from my shoulder. My hand kept its hold on the cliff, but my own arm ejected me like the trash I had become.
Now here I am, dead on the ground, with my eyes wide ope with life’s betrayal. It continued to mock me as my heart kept beating despite being immobilized, my face tilted up to watch others succeed in their flight, while I lay there broken and looking lifeless, unable to scream because my voice was destroyed along the rest of me.
The city goes on above me, I hear the cars passing by safely on the cliff I had fallen into. And I wonder, why did I fall while noone else is falling. Why is noone coming to rescue me? Why did they have wings? Why did my own spirit fail me?
Or at least, these were my questions when hope still sparkled like a small glimmer in my heart.
Now, I only stare up at the sky with nothing. I pray for nothing as I wake and sleep expecting nothing. I live in my body, but my life has already been extinguished. Someday, I will be free of this world. And only then will I be alive again.
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