Isabela - Day 8

Sonder. I will never fully know a person. Not even myself. Especially myself. I can only know as much as others allow me to. But perhaps also the realization that I will know no other person than myself. I am trapped in this body, caged in this mind, and it is all I will ever know. I was given no choice; I was simply placed here, defined by science given an existence by nature but detain an essence I alone created.

Sometimes I feel as though there is nothing else to say. Everything is stated or understood; the rest becomes obvious. And when I open my mouth it is only to make a fool of myself; show the world who I truly am: an idiot.

Catoptric tristesse. I will never know what someone truly thinks of me. All I am left with is my opinion. All I wish is for me to be wrong. I hope I am not the person I see in all these photographs. Everyone is smiling. They all seem so happy. Sometimes I can hear the voices and the muted laughter as the flash goes on. Then the picture freezes and all you are left with is a portrait of who you once were. A photograph. Frozen in time. Something immutable and beautiful in its intemporality. Something eternal, almost melodic. And sometimes painful to know that they kept moving, painful to know that everything changed and that nothing will ever be the same.

Monachopsis. Estranged. I have no land nor flags. Disconnect. No language, no culture. Outsider. Who am I? Dissociation. Where do I come from?

I can’t talk.

I thought that presentence would help, I thought that pushing myself would help. It doesn’t. It only makes it more painful. I cannot speak. I cannot express myself. I have something to say. I have something to say! Please don’t mute me! Do not silence my existence!

I wish I could free myself from you.

I wish I did not have to leave in fear from others. Expression is everything. Being able to say what you think. Unshared knowledge loses all value. Hoarding knowledge is useless. But what if you cannot share what you think?

Altschmerz. I feel like a broken disk. I am stuck on the same track. It always comes back to the same. I’m ungrateful. I am blind. I cannot see anything. I am tired, tired of living the same scene over, and over. Tired of seeing things played on repeat.

Repeat.

I respect you, but I pity you.

Repeat.

I pity you.

Repeat.

I don’t want to be like you.

Repeat.

Take a break.

Repeat.

Take a break.

Repeat.

Stop.

Broken.

You don’t work hard enough! When will it be enough? What are you doing?

Out.

This is real! It must be real! THIS IS REAL!

Do you think anyone cares about this?

Do you think anyone cares about any of this? Do you think that your supposed eloquence is impressive? That by saying you feel “Mauerbauer-taurigkeit” and that it is precisely what is at the core of your “issues” is going to impress anyone? Why do you always need to stand out of the lot? Why did you have to do this? Did you think that by laying this on paper someone would finally listen, simply because they had to? Do you think that by forcing someone to read this it is going to change anything? They will not say anything about this. They will forget it once they close this. One click. That is all it takes. They couldn’t care less if you lived or died.

You are one drop into the ocean. Not reliable; not indispensable.

Is knowing that someone read it really that gratifying? Is knowing that someone else has been placed into the confidence; that you now exist within another person really that important to you? You know you are only doing this because you are scared. Scared of living, scared of getting hurt.

We have come a long way.

Please don’t annoy people with this. They don’t want to know any of it. All they want are smiling faces. And if anyone asks, “how are you?”, simply say you are “fine”. You don’t have to say anything. You can stay here with me. You are safe here. You know I only do this because I care about you. It is for your good. You can stay here with me. We can live on together. Live on in your mind. You don’t have to talk with others, you don’t have to listen to what they say. You know I say the truth. You know you deserve this. You deserve all of this. I only do this because I care about you.

Lachesism. Only the thought.

Self-centered.

photo credit: https://www.artpeoplegallery.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/10604518_759853007384730_2075408927308388955_o1.jpg