I have a story to tell. A tale of my experiences and a singular event that ultimately determined the course of my country's existence and my own life. Currently, I belong to a diaspora displaced to a far country where assimilation is still ongoing. Once one leaves a nest, there is a never ending quest for urgent belonging that never really actualizes. The consequences linger like an incurable virus, never really leaving and only subtly becoming dormant. But then the periodic outbreaks occur, serving as a constant reminder of what had taken place somewhere in the past abruptly creeping to the surface in its full force. The thunderbolt of realization strikes unpredictably and old questions surface with the same resolute power as before. The defining events of past rise between the cracks of time producing ongoing quests of contemplation and constant reflections. Memories become vivid and omnipresent leaving no room for present. Such reminder shows the limitations of choices and the power of random occurrences that shape and control the existence. This limbo determines periods of melancholic state resolutely taking over every essence of being. That's when I start writing; it becomes my muse.
Often I attempt to define myself not as a person, but as a product of the accumulation of events and circumstances that led me to this present moment. The common denominator is fear which was installed in me very early on in my childhood years continuously following me indiscriminately and tenaciously without ever really subsiding. Fear is my enemy and my friend; it is a determining authority that explains my driving and breaking force, subconsciously placed and triggered at any given instance. Every time I attempt to find a way to overcome it and go against my nature of cautiousness, something crushes me down to the abyss of failed tries. Hence, I stopped fighting against it and became immobile and stagnant. The crippling fear has won the battle and pushed me on the sidelines of my own life. I simply exist without any real fulfillment, without any motivation, desolate in my own mind of never ending attempts at battles that result in failures.
And the root of all the problems stems out of a singular event that determined the course of my existence: the War. Early on, I learnt how to be afraid; a feeling that has never left me, a sentiment that defines me. I may look and act as everyone else but that is only a shell, a bunker, a trench. Beneath it all, the chaotic explosions burst from time to time, leaving confusion and incapability behind. After the booms the void emerges and the vast emptiness endures for long periods of time disabling any movement towards progress and change. So, I frequently run from the world around me, from the daily routine, from conforming, from me and I look for consolations elsewhere in the world of temporary escapes that happen more than they ought to. Those are not excuses or explanations for why am I the way I am but debilitating states of mind I find myself in driven by nothing else but fear. And the only way to conquer it is to erase the formative years of my life; to completely change the core one needs to die and I am not willing to do that. Learning how to live with fear and concern is far more plausible than the option of seizing to exist. Yet, it is a more difficult path taken that will leave me on the sidelines of my own life.
Often I attempt to define myself not as a person, but as a product of the accumulation of events and circumstances that led me to this present moment. The common denominator is fear which was installed in me very early on in my childhood years continuously following me indiscriminately and tenaciously without ever really subsiding. Fear is my enemy and my friend; it is a determining authority that explains my driving and breaking force, subconsciously placed and triggered at any given instance. Every time I attempt to find a way to overcome it and go against my nature of cautiousness, something crushes me down to the abyss of failed tries. Hence, I stopped fighting against it and became immobile and stagnant. The crippling fear has won the battle and pushed me on the sidelines of my own life. I simply exist without any real fulfillment, without any motivation, desolate in my own mind of never ending attempts at battles that result in failures.
And the root of all the problems stems out of a singular event that determined the course of my existence: the War. Early on, I learnt how to be afraid; a feeling that has never left me, a sentiment that defines me. I may look and act as everyone else but that is only a shell, a bunker, a trench. Beneath it all, the chaotic explosions burst from time to time, leaving confusion and incapability behind. After the booms the void emerges and the vast emptiness endures for long periods of time disabling any movement towards progress and change. So, I frequently run from the world around me, from the daily routine, from conforming, from me and I look for consolations elsewhere in the world of temporary escapes that happen more than they ought to. Those are not excuses or explanations for why am I the way I am but debilitating states of mind I find myself in driven by nothing else but fear. And the only way to conquer it is to erase the formative years of my life; to completely change the core one needs to die and I am not willing to do that. Learning how to live with fear and concern is far more plausible than the option of seizing to exist. Yet, it is a more difficult path taken that will leave me on the sidelines of my own life.
very honest and descriptive. Im sure your words provide many the opportunity to identify what they too are feeling. hopefully it will also provide a grounding for ways to move forward without running. finding the balance almost seems like a lifelong struggle, but its worth a try =) would love to read the process of doing so. please keep the entries coming!
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