How long has it been since my last letter? I'm not sure anymore. The thing is, I don't even know if I'm still good at this, and that if I'm still worthy of your time. To be honest, I didn't intend on writing a letter, I was just sitting one midnight drinking my daily vitamins, and suddenly realized how lonely have I become. Slowly drowning to an unfulfilling and dark life, as if all the fire inside of me are no longer burning— that's when the realization came to me; I finally understood what it's like to be truly lost.
The thing that is scary about my situation is that I don't even know if I am making the right decisions: Should I move or stay still? There are days when I don't even want to move, literally. It gets scarier every day, moving seems like drowning more, and I don't want that anymore. For someone, who have always strived rewriting herself, as the 10-year-old girl praying that she'd be great one day, as the college-self who have longed for brighter days after university years, to that girl who used to write intensely, people could almost feel the words in their veins. I am sure that this is not the situation my past self would want to be in. But, surprise.
To tell you honestly, I was not able to write for a long while, because I have been trying to invalidate my own feelings. I was made to be believe that my constant show of emotions and vulnerability was regarded as lack of 'emotional intelligence', a phrase that I was not able to comprehend months ago, for someone who write vividly about emotions - would consider herself, in fact, lacking the EQ. Maybe they were right, but maybe they were wrong too.
The problem is not the lack of it, but the abundance of it. I am so self-aware that sometimes it becomes destructive. Lately, I have been hard on myself for feeling things when others have it worse. "No. You don't get to feel sad or lonely, because your situation is so much easier than the rest." Somehow, this voice is louder than my own. Most especially, today.
The paralysing feeling of being lost, while also wanting to be great, is never the right combination. I don't even know who said, "be the better person than you are yesterday," because 'fuck it' I don't want any of it. Every day when I try to hold back my vomit caused by this anxiety of feeling too much, I am admitting that I am not getting better every day, I am stuck in this hollowed unfamiliar loneliness, as if I don't have any choice but to be stagnant, and to hold back my tears so that others can't see.
Looking back,this place used to be a busy place, I was always in a hurry, looking forward to the next big thing. Today, it's just me and my thoughts, I have never been this—lost.
That's the thing, maybe I have always been lost, and I don't even know what to feel.
So, one midnight while I was sitting alone in my apartment room, I chose to write a letter (and it took me such a long, long time), to acknowledge, the fact that I am lonely, sad, clinically depressed, booming with anxiety, looking for some validation from you and that is not even right.
Crying while writing this,
Patricia
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