“I looked up with watery eyes, tears falling across my cheeks. I wiped them off but the flow didn’t cease. My tears kept running down with every fast beating of my heart, with every sob, with every huff of air, with every bad, tasteless memory, with every bitter thought. I looked up. I turned my head right. I turned my head left. There was only one thing constant: the emptiness. It would always be the same four walls thickening with my sadness. With a heavy heart, I turned my head again on both sides of the room. Still there it was, the same four walls—offering neither comfort nor solace. I’ve always known this. With every peril, with every challenge, I find myself here: in this claustrophobic cage that has confused me whether it was hell or sanctuary. Either way, none brought any change. Then there it was, a sobering realization…I am alone.”
Until when can we endure such solitude? Until when can all of us—victims of social expectations, victims of society’s pressure and misunderstanding—can we be relieved?
Truly, is there really anyone there for us in these desperate times? Would there be anyone who can live up to what they say about, “We’ll be there for you,”? Or is just air, coming effortlessly out of their insincere mouths?
There are those among us, hiding behind smiles, hiding behind a sketched image of strength and power—people who are tormented on the inside. Then here comes society, here comes your family, the people who you call ‘friends’, expecting you to be what they want you to be: normal.
But you’re not, aren’t you? You are different. You are odd in the best of ways. But they don’t see that now, don’t they? You’re hurting inside. Every single day you go home, you retreat to the same four walls, asking yourself why they left you today, why haven’t they bothered to check up on you while you burn with fever, why didn’t they understand your shallow fears. You ask yourself, why can’t they appreciate you? When all you’ve done for them is for them to accept you and not criticize you for being different.
They feel gratitude for you, they do. It only feels like you’re ignored but maybe they are just as dull as a wall. But that’s not what you need, isn’t it? You’re life has just been so full of the world’s judgement; sometimes you needn’t friends to criticize you even more.
I’m talking to you, and I’m fairly sure, you’re asking when would true people come and rescue you from your distress.
The hard truth is: you’ll never know—and there is a probability you never will.
But this is what happens, to all of us: we become so submerged in waters of sadness, in the idea that we can never truly belong to a group, or anyone. To ‘belong’ in a sense that people are concerned for you, asking you how you are, bringing you the joy of being accepted. We’ve drowned and nothing comes after it. That’s the reality for those of us who’s been there, to those who still are. I am right. Yes, WE, are right to think so.
Though bad, it is comforting to know this truth rather than wonder aimlessly of when will our friends come to our aid. Comforting as it is, we are very much wrong.
We become so filled up with upset inside of us, it has reached our eyes. We’ve become blind. We’ve become too blind to see, that there are things that can change, that there are things that were already there but we didn’t bother look any further: an unseen friend who asks, “Why are you sad?”, a sister who asks, “What’s wrong?” or a stranger who would look at you and say, “Cheer up.” We become too blind. Too blind to see there’s a miracle working under our noses.
You see, all we have to do is to never fear to look again: to look at our lives and the people beyond the ones you want to fit in with. Truthfully, it is this very fear of thinking about the same empty results is what is tying us down.
An empty room isn’t the end of the world.
It is merely an empty room, not an empty world.
I know you. Your heart is now plastered with the most adhesive duct tape to fix it. And I know you’ve been taking care of that part of you for years. Now, you are afraid of showing it off to anyone who can compromise its safety. You are afraid to get hurt again by being vulnerable.
But this time, let it go. Your heart is becoming too heavy to be handled by your hands alone. The logic of the weight of your sadness being too heavy for you to carry is telling you, that you need help. It is a problem fixed only when you look around and see there is still someone you can trust on this. You may not know who it is, but he/she’s there. Do not be afraid to be vulnerable, it is what attracts the most sincere of people.
Give away your fears, stop the tears—and see that there would always be hope.
It’s not easy. But think of this: it is meant to be that way. Because that’s when you know, how worthy the journey of your life would be.
One of the reasons I got into writing it’s because I got used to being alone. I admit, sometimes it’s comforting to get away from all the bustle and hustle of life but sometimes it can really get lonesome. Despite my efforts at friendships, for which I was slightly bad at because of how I’m not used to crowds, I still feel unsupported. But when I realized I shouldn’t chase attention from people who aren’t really there for me, I saw the real people who have been there for me all along. And I believe for those who have gone through the same feeling of isolation, there will still be people who love you and you love back. We just need to get back up and open our eyes to see who’s really there for us.