A hope

Sometimes, just sometimes, I am mistaken. These times are so few, that they should not matter. But they do. Because the period seems to be never-ending. I refuse to accept my mistake. I become so stubborn, that I do not realize the gravity of the massive fall. The fall that I fall, and that makes me feel that I cannot get up alive. I refuse to get up. I refuse to believe that I am seeing what I want to, and not what is shown to me. I refuse to believe that I am seeing too much, feeling too much, and that it’s not my job.

Little spells of realization pop in, once in a while. That is when I promise to myself. And then I lie to myself. And then I catch myself, lying to myself. And then I punish myself. And then I nonchalantly smile at myself, as if it’s something cute. And sometimes I weep. And I hate myself when I do that. I so hate myself, trying to secretly pity myself, console myself. I have not hated myself more for anything else than this. And that is also when I realize how puny I am.

It is all true, true for me. And that is the truth. My beliefs are my own, and they are true. They mean the world, to me. To just me. I expect the world of myself, and I give it all to myself. I rest on my bed, with my own soul, and I walk the longest walks, till my feet hurt, with myself. The solitude is my own, the pain is my own too. The calmness is my own, and the observations are my own. They are far from false, infinitely far. They are far from anyone alive except for me. Infinitely far. I will not dare tread into someone’s space, it is someone else’s space. Just someone else’s. And I now realize that there can be no overlap. If someone tries getting into my space, if someone dares to do that, I will be repulsive.

It’s all sorted. Hopefully, for until it has to. I feel like a superwoman now šŸ™‚



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