I like passionate people. There is something beautiful about the flare in their eyes when they talk about the things they love. If their passion is a new ember, then their fiery spirit when doing it keeps the ember alive, burning stronger than they never did before. I admire the passionate people.
It's almost 2am, my favourite hour.
Let's get personal.
I used to feel a form of relief after writing. Not anymore now. I used to feel a form of relief after shopping. Not anymore now. I used to feel a form of peace after showering. Not anymore now. I used to feel a form of satisfaction after reading. Not anymore now. I used to feel okay after praying. Not anymore now. This scares me.
You see. When you no longer feel the bliss of doing what you love, you will feel terrified. What is there left for you to live for? I know that as humans we are codependent to each other. Maybe that is why I feel like I never really poured my heart out into one single container. I left my content a little here and a little there. I am everywhere. I don't belong. I never belong to just one thing. My soul is a wanderer.
But I never get empty for long. I am a self-sustaining inner sunshine. I am on auto-refill mode. I know what needs to be done to get myself full. There is one problem now.
Something is holding me back. My insecurity. Honestly, I am confident about myself most of the time, but underneath this layer of confidence, there is a thin layer of uncertainty. I question myself about many things. Especially about the choices I make in life and the circumstances I always end up being in. I guess my self-confidence is all on the surface. My self-esteem is rooted to my insecurity. It all boils down to my feeling of inadequacy and my failure to meet my own expectations.
I love to love and I try as hard as I can when I want to, to spread love with my existence as a person in this world. I try to show compassion to another human being. I try to be as emphatic as I can. I try to listen without unnecessary interruptions. I try.
...and I keep trying in many things. I hate that. I hate that I only try. I want to not only have a worthy cause, but to also have a worthy result. I want to do and achieve. I no longer want to try and do.
Along this short path I am treading, I feel like I have loved to hate. I love to hate. It feels bad saying it. It sounds morbid. Hate is a strong emotion and I am only hoping that something good will surface from this hatred. Impossible, when you think with logic. However, I know that good things can come from anything and everything. That is one thing about me that makes me feel grounded. I guess...
The very fact that I have faith in good things. It keeps me standing again, after falling so many times. I see hands trying to lift me up and I will be damned if I do not take it.
I did not reach for those hands. I left them all with their kindness, compassion and pity hanging. I like to suffer alone. I like to suffer. I like to feel this array of emotions. Now, in this darkness, I lay in this old bed. Pouring my words in this space. Remembering the support I have. Trying to not struggle inside. I feel guilty.
It is such a torture to not be able to feel what you want to feel. Life becomes... passionless.
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