I’ve been away a long time.
I make promises that I can’t keep. Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and I can’t move. I think sick thoughts that leads to emotional starvation and pain, pain, so much pain. I’m Prufrock, burning in my own hell. I’ve been there since I’ve learned to think consciously. I bare my surgical scars to the world, seeking help, screaming for it… but not in the right place, to the right people. So long I’ve been here, I don’t even know how deep it was a part of me. And it was almost too late.
This? This is the new me. A me I should’ve been a long time ago, the me that I deserve to be, the me that I will be now. Strong and independent and most importantly, happy.
It’s not easy getting the right words out. But I owe this to you (hypothetical reader) and to my baby, this blog- and to myself. I owe it to me to record the success of how far I’ve come in just a few weeks, how much I’ve learned to recognise myself and just how strong I am. Now I know that with the right tools, I can sculpt myself into the me that I was meant to be. And the future looks very, very bright right now.
It’s not easy doing the right thing. Addiction is tempting. I’m addicted to my own suffocating comfortable little world of sadness. Addiction is not easy to fight- and it’s a fight, every inch of the way, every single day. You hear all these stories of taking it one day at a time. Each day is a new day, a new fight to fight my enemy rooted deep within me- a dark, mutilated, naked, vulnerable, barely human being that was once my inner child, that i must now turn human and innocent and happy with a baby’s wonder and love again. You hear all these cliches- but cliches are cliches for a reason. And never once do you realise the truth of these caressing whispers until you live them everyday and realise that they’re right.
It’s not easy, fighting this part of me, coaxing it, loving it, rocking it and gently nourishing it back to health again. But I’m going to fight every second, every time I feel that inner child’s sorrow. I owe that to myself, because the peace that comes with it? It’s worth a bit of pain. It’s worth everything.
Yes, it’s not easy. It doesn’t mean that suddenly I’m all hippie-like and life’s a cakewalk. It doesn’t mean that I suddenly get a free pass- anything but, to be honest. It doesn’t mean that I’m allowed to slow down, stop, or ruminate, even if I feel like I deserve to. It doesn’t even mean that I suddenly have love and care and support from understanding beings and a fostering environment. If anything, life’s faster, because now i feel every wasted hour slipping by. It’s tougher, because I know exactly where I need to be and what I ought to be getting, but am not. It’s way more intense. In fact, it’s a bitch. But you know what? I love it, and I’m ready. Finally, finally I can see the entire kaleidoscope of colours it has. My monochromatic landscape of browns and blacks and greys have suddenly transformed into dazzling blues and greens and fiery oranges and reds. Finally, I’m no longer looking at it through the wrong end of the telescope. Finally, I can breathe.
I’m thinking of moving out. It’s a radical move, and it won’t take place until at least I get into college. But I’m ready. I never thought I would be, and yet here I am.
Yes, it’s not easy. But that’s life, and that’s who i am. And I’m glad to finally have the tools to start living it.
Tick tack toe, you’re fitting into place
And now the old ways don’t seem true
Tip top ready for the rocket
And I’m tip top ready to go
Tip top ready for the sky
And I’m tip top ready to go, go, go.