belonging
“For what do humans come into being?
For what do humans live on?
For what are humans destined to meet those who will become important to them?
"Everything may rely solely upon fate...”
After some much-needed reflection this morning, it would appear as though I'm still fooling myself into thinking that I have any sort of control over my own destiny. That I can continue to journey this Earth in search of someone special to love and to hold, someone who'll be by my side when, in fact, it was probably decided for me long ago that I'm destined to be alone in this life.
If my journey so far is any indication, then perhaps I am indeed the lone wolf who comes into contact with her own kind every now and again, but who sooner or later returns to the solitude of the dark woods, where she continues to roam on her own. Perhaps this sounds melodramatic. Perhaps this sounds sad. Whatever the case may be, it is what it is.
I feel fragile. I've been opening myself up to more people than usual these past few weeks, and all at once. I did this deliberately. It's only every now and again that I manage to swallow my paralyzing shyness and my lingering insecurities in order to allow for new friendships to happen. As comfortable as I am being by myself,— for alone and lonely are two different things. I do crave human contact and a deeper understanding from others, even if they never seem to last a long time.
But as much as I crave these things, reaching out to others is still an enormous burden for me. Putting trust in people who may not be trustworthy and sharing myself with them makes me feel extremely vulnerable. I hate feeling fragile and exposed. It makes me want to turn and run away. Not surprisingly, I often regret when I do open up and take that chance. I always painfully recall the last time I made such an attempt before soon returning to the sheltering woods once more, where an unspecified amount of time must pass before I am seen again.
“Each person’'s gaze is locked on another whose feelings mirror their own.”
Just recently, I felt completely understood by someone — someone rather unexpected. I felt completely accepted for who I am. For once, the cynical voice inside my head was silenced. I believe this effort was genuine. It's what I always search for and never seem to find. It's such a high for me when someone just gets me, when someone makes an effort to understand me, and recognizes the common traits and values between us.
For reasons I'll never understand, such fleeting happy thoughts are usually immediately eclipsed by someone making me feel bad about myself. This happened just a few minutes ago. I try to raise as many shields around me as I can when this occurs, when I see it coming. My outer shell, however, never grew to be as tall as the rest of me, and there are weak spots that leave enough room for those verbal, piercing arrows. It never matters if they were fired unintentionally; they draw blood just the same.
I'm more than just a screen name on someone's monitor. I'm a real person typing these words. I'm a human being with genuine feelings and a unique combination of thoughts, feelings, values, and qualities. Even if you've never met me in "real life," it doesn't mean I'm any less real. It doesn't mean I'm any less vulnerable. And it doesn't put into question my own sincerity and my trustworthiness.
Perhaps I shouldn't blame others for making me feel this way. It's likely my own fault for allowing them, however unwillingly, to do it. After all, they're my insecurities. I own them. So, it's probably up to me to dispel them, to cast them off once and for all. I just wish it were that easy, for surely I would have done so by now.
Now I sit here, trying to sort it all out. Wondering for the 100th, the 1000th time, whether I should rescind the thin little threads of my trust that someone else is still holding onto. The sorrow of having one's trust betrayed or discarded, or the loneliness of never having allowed trust to be honored and returned, which of these is more heartbreaking?
“Is there ever a time when one can live her own dream without inflicting a wound on someone else’'s heart?
"the greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself"
For what do humans live on?
For what are humans destined to meet those who will become important to them?
"Everything may rely solely upon fate...”
After some much-needed reflection this morning, it would appear as though I'm still fooling myself into thinking that I have any sort of control over my own destiny. That I can continue to journey this Earth in search of someone special to love and to hold, someone who'll be by my side when, in fact, it was probably decided for me long ago that I'm destined to be alone in this life.
If my journey so far is any indication, then perhaps I am indeed the lone wolf who comes into contact with her own kind every now and again, but who sooner or later returns to the solitude of the dark woods, where she continues to roam on her own. Perhaps this sounds melodramatic. Perhaps this sounds sad. Whatever the case may be, it is what it is.
I feel fragile. I've been opening myself up to more people than usual these past few weeks, and all at once. I did this deliberately. It's only every now and again that I manage to swallow my paralyzing shyness and my lingering insecurities in order to allow for new friendships to happen. As comfortable as I am being by myself,— for alone and lonely are two different things. I do crave human contact and a deeper understanding from others, even if they never seem to last a long time.
But as much as I crave these things, reaching out to others is still an enormous burden for me. Putting trust in people who may not be trustworthy and sharing myself with them makes me feel extremely vulnerable. I hate feeling fragile and exposed. It makes me want to turn and run away. Not surprisingly, I often regret when I do open up and take that chance. I always painfully recall the last time I made such an attempt before soon returning to the sheltering woods once more, where an unspecified amount of time must pass before I am seen again.
“Each person’'s gaze is locked on another whose feelings mirror their own.”
Just recently, I felt completely understood by someone — someone rather unexpected. I felt completely accepted for who I am. For once, the cynical voice inside my head was silenced. I believe this effort was genuine. It's what I always search for and never seem to find. It's such a high for me when someone just gets me, when someone makes an effort to understand me, and recognizes the common traits and values between us.
For reasons I'll never understand, such fleeting happy thoughts are usually immediately eclipsed by someone making me feel bad about myself. This happened just a few minutes ago. I try to raise as many shields around me as I can when this occurs, when I see it coming. My outer shell, however, never grew to be as tall as the rest of me, and there are weak spots that leave enough room for those verbal, piercing arrows. It never matters if they were fired unintentionally; they draw blood just the same.
I'm more than just a screen name on someone's monitor. I'm a real person typing these words. I'm a human being with genuine feelings and a unique combination of thoughts, feelings, values, and qualities. Even if you've never met me in "real life," it doesn't mean I'm any less real. It doesn't mean I'm any less vulnerable. And it doesn't put into question my own sincerity and my trustworthiness.
Perhaps I shouldn't blame others for making me feel this way. It's likely my own fault for allowing them, however unwillingly, to do it. After all, they're my insecurities. I own them. So, it's probably up to me to dispel them, to cast them off once and for all. I just wish it were that easy, for surely I would have done so by now.
Now I sit here, trying to sort it all out. Wondering for the 100th, the 1000th time, whether I should rescind the thin little threads of my trust that someone else is still holding onto. The sorrow of having one's trust betrayed or discarded, or the loneliness of never having allowed trust to be honored and returned, which of these is more heartbreaking?
“Is there ever a time when one can live her own dream without inflicting a wound on someone else’'s heart?
"the greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself"
