I am not made of the stuff of other people.
Can this be true?
I doubt it. I believe it truer that I am made just the same as the others, but I am more aware of the effort of being, and dislike it, and do not wish it for myself.
So many years thinking I needed to learn to love myself (or rather, being told I needed to do that) when in fact perhaps the truth is I love myself enough to wish me happy, and that seems an uncommon goal for many.
3:40 am and awake since 3.
When was the last time anything like this happened?
And how about knowing it will happen again, and again, and again.
Many people are insomniacs, so what? (you say).
I say, that’s not a good reason, those people shouldn’t be.
I spoke of this society’s messed up ways and how people are generally unhappy because of it. I was told about extremes to prove me wrong, when most people I know, including myself, are considered to be living “perfectly normal lives despite that” but that’s just it: your idea of normal and mine, your idea of healthy and mine, your idea of “unavoidable” and mine are very different.
I barely cope, and I’m unafraid to admit it.
I am not afraid to say if I could, I would leave here in an instant, then of course I think of how my kids are happy here, what an enormous (yet another) upheaval that would be, and also how there is no money to do such a thing anyway, and give up. Then I think of the absurdity of how much more money is spent every day, so that I can go out and earn some money “the normal way”, so I can spend money on things we will only need because I am working… and I facepalm myself.
I cannot sleep because I think of the bad organisation yesterday that led to orders for customers not being prepared, and thinking of all the other things I will need to be doing tomorrow morning while customers come in and expect their orders and so I think who to delegate too, all too aware that staff is short.
All in a normal day’s work for some, no reason to worry, except like the wind, you only know I am strong when I have something I am crashing against, and I have nothing.
My life was built so that I don’t have someone around me I can chat to every day, get stuff off my chest.
All this social media stuff is bullshit, the chats, the forums, I tried them all as they came out, one by one, only to find that you are and remain as alone as you are. The winners are those born and bred in this system, who have their family and friends as they grow up, living right next to them and seeing them regularly.
I love my people, but they are useless in this context, this new context I am finding myself in. As my chosen people always were, when it came down to the nitty gritty of everyday stuff.
I know it is like that for most people, except they think that’s how life should be.
I am aware of having been so much more for so many people whenever I was allowed/I was around. I was the one who could give you relief when you didn’t know you needed it, people clung to it, clung to me, then I left them and they returned to a system I, however, never had, never wanted, never embraced.
The general conditions of human aloneness is something I never accepted. The reasoning I have heard so many times “we are all alone, we all die alone” is bullshit.
It doesn’t have to be that way. Saying “that’s the way it is”, is bullshit.
In some stages in my life I had someone to beat my wind against, gather strength and whirlwind my way out of something and into something good, something that changed, shook up, refreshed. I am waiting for the strength to stand up against myself and say “No. You are all wrong. This is not the way, not for me, not for them, I will change it”.
But at the moment, I am just wind twirling needlessly in a corner of a courtyard, just twisting and curling upon myself, all around me protective cosy walls, except these walls have no ceiling.
A masterpiece to end.