When my grandmother died I’d decided that life is too short to wait. I know, sounds cliché. But her death has reminded me of how much I loathe my routine, how much I despise this comfort zone I’ve gotten myself into. See, I thought if I waited, life would come find me. But I was wrong, because I wasn’t waiting. I was stuck.
I was stuck inside my own mind. All alone with my thoughts. Without knowing, I’ve put my life on hold. I was eating, breathing, sleeping, but I wasn’t living. All I’ve done was… thinking. Dreaming. Figuring myself out.
If I’d be completely, painfully honest, I didn’t think much of my grandmother. At least, not enough. But there was this one thing I’ve always admired about her – her ability to live without fear, no matter what. She had kept on living until her last breath, spending the entire day running around at the age of 80, traveling the world. I mean, she was something.
Her death has forced me out of my comfort zone. I don’t know what exactly it was about it. Maybe that I was forced to spend so much time around other people, which I didn’t know very well. Maybe it was the loss of my safe haven, that place where nothing ever changes, where you are always welcomed. Either way, when I came back home I just suddenly realized that I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t keep on living my empty life, I couldn’t stay tamed to my fears, not anymore. I chose life.
And now, everything that I’ve been protecting myself from is raining down on me. The desperate need for love. My pitiful physical condition. The passion for more.
So right now, I feel alone. More than ever. I feel like I have almost no one to talk to, and even when I do, I’m too afraid and embarrassed to admit that something is wrong. That I’m not okay. And I know, I know it’s okay not to be okay. But I can’t stand the sorry looks, the merciful eyes, the cliché sayings. People like to make you feel inferior to make themselves feel better. And while a part of me wants to share, wants to open up and shout, “Help!” another part, my mind, wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.
I know I cannot live within my mask. And I want to be able to take it off, I truly do. I want to be able to open up to someone, no bullshit, no sugar coating. But I just can’t seem to find the right person, I don’t even know where to look. Our world is so full of distractions, and so many people get sucked in, stray away from their tracks, lose their selves. I’ve been lucky enough to find my way out, and I spend every moment of my existence being thankful for it. But it’s a wasteland out here. I don’t know where all the people have gone.
What I’m so awkwardly trying to say is, I feel like I’ve lost my tribe and found myself in unfamiliar waters. And now I can’t find my way back. I’m alone. And I can’t find anyone who would understand me.
You might say all teenagers feel this way. You might say all people feel this way. You might be right. But I’m not willing to accept this feeling and move on with my life. Because I know I am not supposed to feel this way.
You could consider this a cry for help. I don’t know, maybe it is. But I want you to know that I have faith. I know that eventually, I’ll find my way home, I know that everything will be okay, that this loneliness is simply momentary, it’s not going to last forever. This is just me finding my way out of the maze.