When you are in your mid-twenties, many self-doubting questions stir in your mind constantly. Have I made the right choices? Am I on the right career path? Do I know what I’m doing? Am I happy? Will I be single forever? These things usually crawl into your sub-conscience without you even noticing. They build up over time and spill out at the most inconvenient of times. You will be sitting home on a Friday night watching some chic flick you downloaded and it dawns on you. You feel unusually emotional for no apparent reason. A tear comes down. You wipe it. Another one. You wipe that one too. Then you ask yourself if the movie is even that sad. It’s probably not. It’s your repressed emotions spilling out, the ones that have been bottled up for way too long. Next thing you know you’re having a hysterical moment, an emotional breakdown and you can’t control it. You just sit there, quietly sobbing for no good reason.
After some time of loathing in self-pity, you get up, wipe the tears and slap yourself. What is wrong with me?! You then start to criticize yourself for being so weak. You hate the fact that you are so Goddamn emotional. You empathize with everyone, even the neighbor’s cat. It’s crazy how little it takes for you to feel bad for someone. No wonder why you’re such a mess. People love the fact that you can relate to everything and that you get emotional so fast, but you hate it. You hate every single minute of it. You love to help people but you can’t stand the fact that everything gets to you so easily. Your feelings get hurt at the snap of a finger, like a five year old. But people say that only strong individuals can feel so deeply and be so emphatic, like it’s a good thing. Maybe it is. I’m not sure.
Nonetheless, it doesn’t make life easier. So it’s a battle, every single day. It feels like you’re in a war zone with yourself, constantly scolding your feelings for being too strong. It takes so much strength to get up in the morning and be as positive as you are. People think it always comes naturally, the laughing and smiling. Well, it doesn’t. I have many bad days, but no one hears about them because well, I don’t want them to. I put on this act of always being happy and content with everything, it gets exhausting. People always expect me to be the most positive person in the room, to always have the best solution to everything. But I guess it’s my own fault. This is the picture I have painted for myself and I should wear it proudly, until the end of time. Or at least, until I go completely insane.
And don’t get me started on the expectations. Oh, the expectations. I get so caught up in the moment of every situation that I spend my time picturing the outcome like it’s a fairy tale. Is everything supposed to be like a Goddamn fairy tale from Disney? Hell no! You are supposed to self-loath, deteriorate and cry pointlessly because this is how you learn to let go. I seem to always have trouble letting go. I never learn, ever. People say you should make mistakes to learn from them, but it seems I never do. I am always back to where I started, at the bottom. I give so much to every situation I put myself in and then expect the outcome to be mind-blowing. For the record, it usually is. It blows my mind so much that I can hardly get back to normal after. This is where the hysterical outbursts stem from.
Even through these hell storms I put myself in, I enjoy every waking moment. I like watching myself fall and get up every day. I like trying to control everything and watching it crumble down like a house of cards. I like the fact that I can’t always keep it together, because, who can, anyway? I like the fact that I can’t keep a straight face for more than 2 seconds. I like the fact that I am not well put together and I have a long way to go. I like the fact that I fail so many times, on a daily basis. But, I love the fact that I can accept these things about myself, because at the end of the day, I am going to still be me. I am all I have and I am perfectly fine with that. I encourage these pitfalls and loony attitudes because it makes a person who they are. Once you have fully accepted the imperfect piece of art you truly are, nothing can stop you. I will continue to be my weird, imperfect self and you will continue to love me for it.