Almost Changes Nothing

Time and experience has not made me a better person… Hell, I have trouble believing, sometimes, that there’s much good left in me… Although some may beg to differ.

It was a combination of two succubus’s that drained what little hope and strength I had left –one a love and, the other, a sick employer. I’ve never been one affected by stress and, lately, any noise or yelling or screaming or simple, disapproving tones turn me inside out. Dramatic, yes, but it seems I’m allowing myself to suffer from some mild type of social disorder and it’s driving me crazy.

I’ve never considered myself someone easy to ignore or, worst, overlook, but I can’t manage to command the attention I deserve anymore. On most days I wish I could revert to the stronger person I was before; the person I was before I was broken; the person I was before someone else mattered more to me than me.

So many things happened this past year to harden my soul: thoughtless mistakes, feeling abandoned, taken advantage of, robbed (of my innocence, naivety, etc.), etc. They say those most often and most willing to over-extend themselves hurt the most; not because they don’t want to help, but because those you do fail to see that maybe, by helping, you can in the process help yourself, too.

This year I almost died, I almost fell in love again, I almost lived freely, I almost felt like I could help and change someone for the better –I, alone -but I’ve learned that almost changes nothing… Because after a few months of almost dying, my life didn’t seem as important as the day after I almost did. The true secret: it never felt important, even the day after; everything was still the same, only altered temporarily.

People move on. Not just lovers and great loves but friends and family, too... And by no means is it punishable, as everyone deserves to pursue their individual paths to happiness, but, for every person I help, a piece of my happiness goes with them.

For every one of my life’s milestones I’ve felt the most alone, even standing on a street corner with pieces of iron, plastic, and broken glass. I, not once, felt comforted or forgiven for shattering the image(s) of a “perfect” little girl. On the other hand, I felt shame (even though the fault wasn’t mine), guilty, alone, emotionally abandoned, and betrayed. I couldn’t cry. I never fully cried. I only learned to sweep these traumas under the rug to avoid dealing with them. If they weren’t acknowledged, then they never existed… which can, in many ways, explain why it’s so hard for me to remember anything these days.

Almost changes nothing. It didn’t change me for the better… and if it didn’t change me, you can understand how petty it was for me to think it’d change anyone else. I always believed that the person you are today is the best version of you because you’re supposed to be filled with more wisdom and knowledge, but getting to know who I am now, makes me all the more unsure of this notion. Sometimes I think we’re only remnants of the good, simple people we used to be.

This smile I wear reminds me of the devil, only I, unlike her, choose not to terrorize the innocents; I only fool them into believing I’m fine. I only choose to understand that almost changes nothing.

***To this day, I've never understood why I was spared… And until I do, in the back of my mind I’ll always think that maybe, just maybe, God got it wrong.

Change

You wake up one day and realize that your life, as is, is nothing of what you thought it would be once upon a time –a life on its way to being shared, a journey defined, a start to a personalized happily ever after… Your now is… well, nothing.

I, for one, know I’m living on auto-pilot, but, only because it’s easy for me to. The monotonous auto-pilot lets me not feel those things I’ve been avoiding and choose to ignore (although they’re always in the back of my head). Some things are better just left as they are, because talking about it + feeling about it change nothing. But ‘til this day, I’m still feeling everyday. Isolating myself has made it easier for me to not deal altogether, and I’ve been fine with it… until now.

Judging I’ve stopped altogether because I’ve learned that I’m no one to. I’ve learned to stop expecting from others because if you never expect anything, you’ll never be disappointed. Accept people as they are, no matter how ignorant or different they are. People’s experiences mold them to who they are and I’m no one to judge how they process the things that happen to them. God knows I’ve done many stupid things I know I’ve been judged for, both silently and out-loud -things people only understand superficially, from the outside- and I resent all who have. For this reason I’ve opted to keep many things to myself and myself only. I’ve found more peace in being a recluse than I ever did when I talked all the time to the people I trust[ed]. They’re all judges, too.

I’ve learned my disappointment stems from self-expectations of grandeur. Everything at 18 seemed like it’d be on its way at 22/23… you’d have it together by 25, at least, and the truth is we’re almost there and we’re still where we started –feeling empty + lost, fulfilled in some areas and empty in others. The truth’s truth is, it’s vain to think we’ll ever be completely happy, because we’ll always focus our energies on what we don’t have and wish we had rather than the greatness we do have.

Although my experiences have been limited, I think that, from them, I’ve learned more than those who’ve experienced too much. I’ve been hardened very early on in my life. Maybe it’s because I feel too much. Maybe it’s because it’s all in my head. But I think, that for a little while, I have the right to feel nothing at all.