Relief
Do you overthink now? Like before?
No. Not like before.
I've learned to leave some things unanswered, some people misunderstood, and some situations exactly where they are. I don't feel the need to revisit everything until it makes sense anymore.
You've learned to let things go?
I'm learning.
There's a difference.
Do you still argue with people?
Not really. I used to want people to understand my side of things. Now, sometimes, I just want the conversation to end without either of us having to win.
And you're okay with being misunderstood?
More than I used to be.
I suppose there's a certain peace in realising that you can explain yourself perfectly and still be misunderstood. After a while, you stop treating every misunderstanding like a problem you're responsible for fixing.
That's good.
Is it?
What do you mean?
I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if I've become wiser or if I've simply grown tired of explaining myself. Perhaps it's a little of both.
Do you still hide from people who knew you before?
Not anymore.
I suppose I'm no longer afraid of the questions that come with being remembered. Or perhaps I've simply reached a point where I don't feel the need to avoid them.
You've changed, haven't you?
I think so.
But it's strange. When you're changing, you don't always notice it. You keep waking up as yourself, carrying the same name, living in the same body, remembering the same things. And then one day, something that once would've ruined your entire day happens, and you realise you've barely thought about it twice.
You don't even celebrate.
You just carry on with your day.
Do you let people in now?
I'm trying.
Why is that so difficult?
I wish I knew.
It's not that someone came along and broke my trust. I think I've always paid attention to people, perhaps more than I should have. I've watched how easily people change around different people, how affection can become indifference, how someone can mean something to you and still be an ordinary person to the rest of the world.
You begin to understand things without anyone having to teach you.
And sometimes, what you learn makes you cautious.
So you don't trust people?
Not entirely.
But I don't want to spend my life treating everyone like a risk, either. I want to believe that there are people you can be yourself around without having to calculate how much of yourself is safe to reveal.
I just haven't figured out how to do that without holding a little back.
That's sad.
Maybe.
But I'm trying. And I think that counts for something.
Do you think life is beautiful?
Yes.
Sometimes it's so beautiful that I wish I could keep a moment exactly as it is. Other times, it's messy and exhausting, and I don't particularly feel like finding beauty in any of it.
I've stopped expecting myself to feel grateful for every single thing just because there are good things, too.
A bad day can simply be a bad day.
Life doesn't have to be beautiful every minute for me to love being alive.
Does that old feeling of wanting to escape ever return?
Thankfully, not the way it used to.
And when it does?
I don't know if it will. But I know now that a feeling can be convincing without being permanent. There were things I once thought I'd never get past. I don't think about some of them anymore.
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Imagine that.
Do you speak your mind now?
Yes. And I'm enjoying it.
I don't want to keep shrinking my thoughts to make them easier for other people to accept. I don't want someone else's opinion to become the boundary of my life.
I'm allowed to have my own mind. I'm allowed to change it, too.
Do you have friends?
What kind of question is that?
A simple one.
Then why don't I know how to answer it?
I sit with people. I talk, I laugh. I can enjoy someone's company without spending the entire time wondering how I appear to them. I don't feel the same need to withdraw from everyone.
But friendship?
I don't know. Perhaps I've become better at being around people than I am at letting them know me.
And those are not the same thing, are they?
Don't you feel lonely?
Not always.
I think there's a difference between being alone and feeling that something is missing. I've spent enough time with myself to know that my own company isn't the enemy.
But I won't pretend that being comfortable alone means I never want someone to stay.
I do.
I just don't want to force closeness where it doesn't come naturally, or call something friendship simply because I'm afraid of having none.
Are you scared of anything now?
Not the way I used to be.
I have more freedom now. I can speak, choose, disagree, and make mistakes without feeling that every little thing has to become a judgement of who I am.
I'm enjoying the person I'm becoming.
So, you've healed?
I don't know if I'd put it that way.
Why not?
Because I don't think healing is a place you arrive at and never have to leave again.
I still have things to understand about myself. There are questions I don't have answers to, and parts of me that I'm still learning how to live with. I don't want to turn my progress into another expectation I have to meet.
But I can look back now without wanting to return to who I was, and without being angry with her for not knowing what I know today.
I think that's something.
What would you tell her, then?
Nothing, I think.
She wouldn't have understood half of it. Not because she wasn't listening, but because some things can only be understood after you've lived through them.
I'd let her ask her questions. I'd let her worry about things that no longer worry me. I'd let her believe that certain chapters would never end.
I wouldn't rush her.
And if she asked whether things would ever get better?
I'd tell her the truth.
I wouldn't promise her that everything would work out exactly as she wanted. I wouldn't tell her she'd never feel lonely again, or that she'd become someone who never doubts herself.
I'd tell her that one day, she might wake up and realise she hasn't been carrying something quite as heavily as she used to.
That she'll laugh without forcing herself to. That she'll find herself enjoying an ordinary afternoon. That she'll stop checking whether she's finally become the person she was trying so desperately to become.
And perhaps, without even noticing when it happened, she'll begin to live.
Do you miss who you were?
Sometimes I miss the things I thought she'd have by now.
But I don't miss being her.
She was doing the best she could with a life she hadn't yet learned how to understand.
Last one. Are you happy now?
I'm here, aren't I?
And for a long time, I didn't know what that would look like.
Perhaps that's enough of an answer for today.
