When I was sixteen I was able to talk about things that mattered most to me to the first person I met. It didn’t really matter if I was complaining about boys, taking about how I will never perceive myself as good enough or how being abandoned by my father affects me. Life was easy; in every face I saw a different perspective to my problems, regarded people as cost-free shrinks, from whose opinions I was able to chose those that suited me most. Back then, confiding your personal stuff in complete strangers was considered perfectly normal. During parties, girls would talk in the toilet about their little personal dramas to people they saw for the first time. Hearing their opinions, they were on the verge of crying while colouring their lips. As time went by, it began to be harder and harder to open myself even to those I knew for years, tell them same meaningless stories I used to tell to complete strangers years ago. I would have rather died than show to anyone that I am capable of feelings, that I’m just like the others - weak and certain that I feel it all probably more profoundly than anyone else, that if you strike the right chord, I could fall into pieces within seconds. It didn‘t happen through the day. It didn’t wake up one day thinking „hey, from now on I will keep everything to myself, keep a distance around me to make it impossible for even the most persistent people to get to know me at all“. Was it because I don’t really trust anybody apart from myself or because creating this whole attitude of “ I don’t care about anything or anyone“ seemed to be far more easier than showing any kind of feeling, which I saw as weaknesses. It also wasn’t like I didn’t feel like talking to other people, it just felt like at this moment nothing really mattered to me, so to cut a long story short; there was nothing to talk about. Honestly, at the beginning, it felt perfect. I have never felt so strong in my entire life, there were no ups and downs, no bad or good days, just constancy. I could just walk through the streets smiling and singing “ can’t tell me nothing“ feeling like I made it to the next level, achieved the only thing that can bring me pure bliss- choosing my mind over my feelings, living without the fear of being hurt over and over again. In life sometimes we get to this point where we’ve just had enough of being hurt and being needy, when turning into an emotionless zombie sounds like a plan. Who wouldn’t like to stay on the safe side at night instead of crying till 4am or watching some dumb movie without looking at the phone every five seconds thinking: WHY HASN’T HE CALLED YET? I loved this strong and self-confident but as well vindictive version of me. Now it was so easy to break someone in a split second and then watch them being hurt like I was. Sometimes I sat at nights and asked myself how can I act so cruel and ruthless without any sign of remorse. But just like with New Year’s resolutions it took me about five to ten minutes to forget the whole thing. After a while I felt that this new lifestyle of mine might be not as perfect as I saw it. I felt so much anger inside me, and I had no idea what to do with it. I vented it through sports without punching people, but still it didn’t stop me from wanting to hit the first person that did something I didn’t like at the moment – it could be the hair, clothes, the sound of the voice or a facial expression. If I didn’t like it, I wanted to see it burn. It was a wake up call for me. Looking back, the only thing I could think of was what a parody of a life am I living. Switching my emotions off didn’t bring me happiness as I thought it would. It just turned me into angry twentysomething specializing in hurting others. Easier doesn’t necessarily mean better, and in this case stronger is simply synonymous for self-destructive.
Points: 337
Reviews: 17
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