It’s funny how one can take an excruciatingly long period of time to slowly lay out the bricks of the wall around the heart – not a wall to keep others out but a wall to keep it alright – only to have it seized in the briefest of encounters, leaving it completely paralysed?
What was I building it for again? What was causing hurt, from the outside, from the inside, that this wall had to be painstakingly built? I come to realise all of a sudden, that I don’t know anymore, I have been stripped of my thoughts, my mind is blank.
When fear seize me, I get paralysed. I get paralysed before I realised it did – that’s how I find out.
Find out that my insecurities are once again forced to rear its ugly head before me.
I thought I was getting better while I built that wall, it felt safe, like I was making progress trying to become better. Turns out, I have only been burying them.
Is burying them so wrong? – I feel the urge to scream this out loud. Proving not to anybody, proving even less to myself.
Deep down, deep down. A voice tells me “you know it is wrong. Isn’t it obvious? You need to face it not bury it.”
I know, god dammit I know.
I had to bury it because I couldn’t face them fast enough. When has taking your time to overcome your fears felt so wrong, simply because the world does not wait for the hurt to heal?
I buried it because I wanted to run, because I needed to move forward, because I am eager to move ahead. I was determined to move ahead despite the paralysing fears, because that meant progress, right?
That made me feel alright. I believed I was making things better, that I was taking steps.
I wish I can explain but I don’t understand this fear. It frustrates me that it paralyses me so – why is the will of the mind no longer the only strength needed to overcome things?
I am willing so hard to get over this, to feel better, to not let my insecurities define me. I gathered the strength I needed in pieces, from family and friends, from music, from the little things around me that are amazing and wonderful and yet, they aren’t enough.
I wish I can have time, but time is a luxury.
I have expectations placed on me, and deadlines upon me, and that impending unchangeable time scares me. Time is not definite, and was never so, but deadlines made it so.
Walking towards the end of a perceived and made-up end, there can only be outcomes – one that makes me feel better, and one that crumbles me further.
I know I should face the potential failure. This is not me being pessimistic, but acknowledging that it could happen, and I want to scream out loud that I will I WILL, as though vocalising it makes my will stronger. I just need time, I need time.
To the person giving me deadlines, you have your pains, I don’t blame you. We are all answering to different callings in our lives. I really want to help you do your job, I do, but I am not okay, I don’t feel okay, and is it not okay to admit when I want to call a break, when I want to make things slow down as I try my best to do the best that I can, for myself?
I can’t explain all these to you, my heart is a mess, my thoughts are incoherent, but among all these, a lingering constant stays, the paralysing fear that aches outward from the middle of my chest. I feel it strongly even as I try to explain something that I cannot quite figure out…
I wish I can give you a glimpse, I hope you see that I really want to help, even as you repeatedly plead for me to help. You tell me “please”, “please” and “please” again, but those six letters, do you know its stakes, its stakes on me?
Do you know the pain it causes me, when I want to help you and would die to be able to will myself to be in a good enough condition to help, without hurting myself further? You see, you just need something done, and anything will do, either of the two outcomes. You will tell me, you did great. It was great, what are you even talking about? (You would have been great from the beginning)
But no, you wouldn’t understand, that there’s a 50% chance that I will be broken into a state further from repair, and I’m afraid.
I’m afraid because if this is how I feel now, how will I deal with the me then?
Is it wrong trying to protect myself? In an indefinite entity called time, is it wrong to want more to myself to become better? Can you not give me more?
You don’t know the stakes. You really don’t…