A rising tide of dread

I need to know that it’s okay to feel this way. I need to be sure that I am not losing my mind. The thought of another day, same as yesterday fills me with dread. There was a time not too long ago that this familiarity comforted me. But today I am slowly drowning in a rising tide of panic. I am realising that probably the sum of all my hopes and fears, all my ambition and dreams, finally boil down to this. A listless existence propped upwards by one list after another, doing so much but achieving so little.

I cannot help but feel sad when I get like this. There is no other way to describe it. The feeling of living a life not quite your own. Arriving at a place you didn’t originally signed up for. Sometimes I look over my shoulder to see if I missed a turn, thinking that’s where I was supposed to go. And when I finally get there, I’ll become who I’m supposed to be.

But it is never as easy as that. Where we are does not answer this eternal question. What we do probably comes close, but for me there is always a disconnect. I can do many things at once, become good at them even, and still not knowing if this is who I should be. It must matter for me to ponder this, why else would I be so unhappy?

I try reaching out to families and friends. But I was never raised to be needy. I was raised to be proud and independent. I was taught that I am responsible for who I am and all that I do and don’t do. I almost never blame anyone else. Even when I could, it was something I could never do. And that is why I remain so isolated and detached sometimes. And even as I sit here feeling so lonely, I could not bring myself to call someone. It is a sad cycle of despair. One that would end, sure enough. I am an optimist in that sense. But riding out this sense of despondency does not get any easier, no matter how often I feel this way.

I don’t want to think too far ahead. I don’t want to figure out if hope remains in the horizon or if it has deserted me completely. I know what I need to get done tomorrow. I know who I will meet and what we will probably talk about. Knowing all this brings me no comfort nonetheless. I don’t know what will. Sometimes I look for it in a cup of coffee, in a slice of cake or in a plate of my favourite dish. Now you know why I sabotage every diet I’ve ever been on. If I can’t feel any emotion in soul, I might as well savour every taste just to know I’m still alive.

I need to stop. I could probably go on for a long time. But I have somewhere to be within an hour. The certainty of my days used to reassure me as I marched on into whatever that awaited me. But today, this is almost impossible. Today, my only purpose in life is not to break apart and unravel, though inside I have come undone a hundred times over.

No rest for the weary

There is a hole in my soul that threatens to suck the life out of me. There are shadows that fester there, teasing me to come closer. I try as hard as I could. I ignore them as best as I should. But there is always a moment of weakness when I am too tired to try much harder. There are times when I am tempted to give in and let it define me.

What do I call it, this ever-growing restlessness that I feel. I know how it taste like, a bitter pill I swallow almost everyday. I see it suck out the light from every colour around me. Not even the brightest sun can cast it away. It waits in the shadows until the sun is no longer. When the moon is high up, and the sky becomes dark again, it beckons me to admit defeat. It tempts me to question every belief I’ve held sacred.

Sometimes it asks me if I am sure. Whether this is what I truly want. It mocks my contentment and tells me I’m wasting myself, wasting time.. precious time. I am often left lurching in anxiety and panic, like I’m losing a race of which I see no end. Everyday I am tormented by this feeling of inadequacy, that I am worth more, but nothing within my reach seems worth fighting for.

I’ve hoped for some normalcy. I often pray that I was less ambitious, less hungry.. more thankful. I thought being grateful would make me happy. It does, maybe for the first five minutes, then my eyes focus on the horizon yet again. Something else lies out there, waiting for me to claim it. I don’t know why I feel this way. But everyday, that feeling grows stronger. Like I’m supposed to be someone else, as if I’m destined for other things. Bigger and better things. Not that I can be sure if these things will ever make me happy.

It would be much easier if I have a one-track mind. Then I could pick ruthlessness and cold-blooded precision, instead of self-doubt and being caution at every turn. It is not power I crave, but I admit feeling heady in its presence. I am often in awe when I am near it, I could almost taste it. But that can’t be it, can it? Or am I deluding myself yet again?

No, I am nothing like that. I seem to cursed (or blessed) to always see the glass both half full and half empty. The problem lies in my inability to choose either one. Why must I live like this, as if I’m trying to speed with one foot on the brakes. It frustrates the hell out of me, and some nights, like tonight, it scares me senseless.

I pray for relief. I pray for a time when I don’t have to feel, do, think or act. A moment when I can just be. I imagine myself lying passively staring at the clouds, letting the whole world pass me by. It doesn’t quite feel as idylic as it should. I get bored too easily, plus clouds freak me out sometimes. I often end up seeing things that aren’t really there.

Maybe there will never be any relief. Perhaps life is just that, it’s meant to be hard. To expect otherwise is a total waste of energy. To continue struggling like this only prolongs my addiction to drama. That much I admit, even I get tired of myself sometimes. Too bad being happy and shiny were never in my genes. Otherwise, I could simply go on, happily living a life of denial.

There is no rest for the weary, no prayer for the restless. Sleep will come when my body wills it to come. Until then, the night grows colder and darker before dawn gives way to yet another day.