I was sleeping when someone called and woke me up and I wanted to cry and kill myself.
I realized that I’m not happening. Looking around, I see that everything is happening to me but I’m not happening to anything.
A cancelled lecture? I go back home and sleep.
Out of food? I go shopping.
A received text? I reply.
Everything happens to me and I only react. I’m a reaction.
Even the one thing I thought I actively do – watch movies and series – turns out to be happening to me. The stories of people far away in lands of real fiction and fantasy happen to me.
I’m not happening.
I pride myself on my passion. The single greatest investment I make every single moment of my life is emotional. An emotional investment requires your heart, something more valuable than money. Unfortunately, I have observed that I usually invest almost all of my heart in only 1% of my world that there’s not enough left for the remaining 99%. It’s definitely dysfunctional but I don’t care that I lack multiple social connections, a healthy parent-daughter relationship, or even a decent relationship with myself. I honestly don’t care. The infusion of my passion into that select 1% makes existence tolerable, life palatable, and Time expandable. And that’s all I want.
If redemption lies in giving parts of yourself to other people, I just might make it to heaven.
Light has always been one of my favorite physical/metaphysical concepts but recently I’ve also found asylum in darkness. There’s something almost as equally enchanting about darkness as there is about light. The way it hides us, the way we lose ourselves in it, the way it envelopes us as we curl up within ourselves.
Dangerous waters, these are dangerous waters. Thank you for that pointless reminder, Farida.