Why do we feel?
I’ve been thinking about this for the longest time.
You know how, some nights as you lie on your bed, you start involuntarily recalling all the imbecilic things you’ve ever said or done in your years of existence and you shake your head to try and forget that indescribable sense of embarrassment? This night is just like any of those nights; and I’ve had a lot of them.
They usually end in tears.
How do people usually help you get through a difficult situation, especially when they can’t do anything to physically right the wrong? They’ll tell you to stay strong (or any other variations of strength encouragements), that it will blow over soon. And maybe it will; day-to-day hardship is typically temporal, but even so, its easy for any third-party to come into your life when you’re drowning yourself in tears to tell you to hang in there – hang on to hope, not the rope to the ceiling – than it is for you to actually be strong, especially when you feel like everything that you’re facing is a huge dagger just waiting to pierce through your heart. You’ve got a friend sitting beside you listening to you pour your heart out as you hold onto the possibility that your friend’s being next to you can help you to survive, and you know that any motivation that comes from your friend can save you from the psychological torture you put yourself through, but you still don’t really know how to actually be strong. I can’t be the only one questioning myself right now.
How do you be strong? Tell me if you know exactly how, because I don’t and I really need to.
I’ve met a lot of good people and I want to be a good person. We all want to do great things in life and we all know that everything that’s great is an accumulation of all the little good things, albeit insignificant. I want to be a good person, not for recognition of any sort, but because nothing good ever comes out of being an ashole. But I’m not going to lie – its a whole lot harder to embrace goodness that it is to succumb to temptation (I know you know, just hear me out here). You can summarize this whole confusing post to my selfish complaining of my own personal problems and I invite you to because it actually is. I started typing all of this minutes into crying and intended to make all the wrongs in my life known. I’m not going to do that (as explicitly) now and I’ll tell you why.
Tonight was another of those nights. I put on a sad Chinese song about a modern Romeo-and-Juliet (fantasy) love story, sit in a corner of my bed, imagine I’m in the middle of a dramatic conflict in a chick-flick for love-obsessed teens and cry. It helps me cry better (hey, if you switch up sadness, it makes being sad a whole lot easier to deal with). My source of sorrow? One month until I’m locked in a cage and made to battle the hardest national exam in Singapore and there I was, crying because not everyone I cared for remembered my birthday but they remember everyone else’s, crying because it mattered to me that the people I love and always try to be there for don’t do the same for me, because I try to be this amazing, well-loved human with all these fantastic characteristics and successes but I’m really just an overweight fake over-achiever who tries too hard to be accepted by society but refuses to be a product of society and, on top of being a failure academically, can’t even get being a good and real person right. Of course a lot of suffering and pain cannot be translated into words but, all in all, I’m a living contradiction and I hate that things like these even matter to me because I really don’t want them to. 18 years has led up to this.
I don’t feel like anyone I know personally would be okay with me talking to them about this because everyone has their own problems and I don’t want to be that selfish prick, so I’m telling the internet (which is practically the whole world so good job, Victoria), but only because I hope to be the voice of the people who are facing a similar situation and need that bit to be resurrected from ultimate psychological death. (I am doing it again.)
It is here that I need to stop crying and end this confusion.
I’m talking about how I’m burying my own soul because I’ve been feeling sad and crying almost every night over being neglected, lost, torn and alone when I know that I only feel this way because of my own nature. I’m considering death knowing that I’m afraid of dying.
I apologise for this splurge of my sorry state of being. I’ve got a lot of questions left unanswered, and I know you do too. Hey, if you ever feel like me, read this and rest assured knowing you aren’t alone because I’m on this journey with you.
Back to the top: why do we feel? I’d like to think it’s because our feelings define us. Everything that matters to us – whether it makes us cry or jump for joy – tells us things about ourselves. I don’t know how to be strong, but I do know that the only road to truly ending pain (and knowing how to end pain) is if we feel strong enough to not let those devilish notions of pain and despair that come with our problems flood our mind, then naturally we’d discover the secret to ending sorrow.
Please tell me I’m right.
be strong feel strong
This is a call for help.
Originally Published: 3 Oct 2015