[it’s where you could find me when you couldn’t find me anywhere else]

My Whole Story

My life was an old cliché. Most of the time, although I was surrounded by friends, I felt alone. I felt like drifting away in a sea of nothingness, falling in a endless pit of darkness, shouting and screaming for help where no one could hear. It was as if I couldn’t reach out to those people I considered closest to me. It seems like there was still an unyielding wall I couldn’t destroy, to think that it was me who built that wall in the first place.

I tried opening up to them. I forced myself into thinking that they could help me, that they would understand, that somehow they could save me from my inner demons. But, each time I tried to start this kind of conversation, something would always keep on bothering me. What if they couldn’t save me?

There was always that fear of being misunderstood, misjudged, misinterpreted. There was always that looming cloud of rejection. I had been hiding behind my masks of nonchalance and happiness and strength for as long as I could remember, that even I was already fooled to believe that those masks were my true self. I was afraid to get hurt and be taken for granted. That’s why I couldn’t let my guard down, I couldn’t show them my weaknesses, I couldn’t remove those masks.

But still, sometimes I felt exhausted of pretending everything was fine. I would just slump on the corner and cry, thinking of all those painful memories, wishing someone could see through the real me. Sometimes, my happy-go-lucky facade would just crumble. In most of those times, no one noticed nor cared nor asked what was wrong. At times, someone would realize I was acting different and he would ask if I wanted to talk about it. Then, I would put my guard up again, and say I’m okay.

I think it was already my involuntary reaction to protect myself. Without even thinking or realizing it, I sealed myself in an invincible shell. No one could ever get in. No one could ever touch my inner self. No one could enter my safe haven.

This is me when I feel tired of pretending. But, after this, I’m gonna say that nothing’s wrong, that I’m just being melodramatic, that everything’s fine. And you’re better off not bothering me about this. Don’t ask. Because I’m not yet ready to tell. I don’t know when I’m gonna be ready.

In time, I’m gonna tell you my whole story.

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2 responses

  1. ian

    i’ve been there…you have these so called friends …they’re clueless on your struggles and life in general..until i learned that saying those personal things and event in your life requires trust and respect from others.. and sometimes we cant sem to find it yet with our friends…to “feel safe” with them…

    hopefully you’ll find that friend you can share your life stories with… thanks for sharing..

    January 11, 2011 at 2:12 AM

    • First of, thanks for reading. I very well agree with you. Telling my life stories requires a huge amount of trust and I’m still afraid to give that to anyone. Someday, I know someone would show me how to open up to people, to tell them everything without holding back, and to find my inner peace by doing so.

      Thank you again for your comment.

      January 11, 2011 at 8:36 AM

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