I feel lost. I feel I can’t move, I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I’ve been living my life for the past 20 years as a ghost. And I ghost I don’t want people to see, or feel, because they surely are going to be scared. And I really don’t want anyone to feel something for me, not good, not bad. I just want to disappear.
I truly thought coming here was going to be a good idea. Get away? Try to create a new life without everything that is hunting me. Have I created this for myself? In what moment of my life I decided I wanted to be this? Empty, hollow. I can’t breathe.
Once I thought life was great right? I just can’t remember anymore. How? How can I remember something that feels so far away, that feels like a lie? When one person that was supposed to take care of me, to be my world, shattered it instead? I truly cared about him, I truly believed that nothing he would do was going to hurt me, not on purpose. But you know what, I let him, I had the power of saying no, and I didn’t. And that, I think is the worst regrets I have in life. And don’t get me wrong I have regrets to give away as if they were candy at Christmas. But I think that little detailed marked the beginning of the end.
I was able to live the lie for a long time. I hated myself, but I knew I had to pretend, and suddenly I had no idea who I really was. I still have no idea who I am. I pretended so well that now that I want to come out, I have no control over anything. I can’t even convince my own mother of what I like. But then again, what do I like?
I managed to be what they wanted me to be. I managed to hate him every day and still care. But not anymore. I’m empty.
I flew across the world thinking that this separation, this new beginning was what I needed. But really, how can this be something I need if all I can think about is the past. If every little piece of me is shouting, screaming hard to let the pain disappear, that distance is not helping. I had distance for a long time, a few more miles wouldn’t make a difference. But hey! I’m stupid right? Isn’t it what placed me here in the first place?
And every time I trust again what happens? Something similar happens. I’m so tired. So tired of living. So tired of fighting. But even so… I can’t stop. I can’t stop living. I can’t stop fighting. Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I still believe that somewhere, there’s something there for me. That I can make something of myself.
But I can’t function. I can’t concentrate. The only thing that I can do is get lost in books. Read about someone else’s struggle and how they manage to come out. I wish I could come out. I hate people. They just let me down… family? Totally over rated. They are the ones that have the power to break us, and apparently they make a sport out if it with me. The worst thing? They don’t even notice it.
So… you… any one really… do you have anything to tell me that is going to change my mind? Is there any magic I haven’t figured out?
God! Now I’m even writing in a different language than my own!