Exhausted….
WHO AM I?
Sometimes I think and feel, why the world has made men like this.
At times, their wrongdoings make me feel sorry for them. saying, Their wrongdoings are justified by the saying, “Maybe they will change, they just need exposure.”
But I feel even more sorry when they don’t understand, or don’t want to understand, how to become better men instead of remaining boys.
I feel afraid — dar to talk to him. Now, I don’t find reasons to stay with him. Apart from a little anxious that he is gone, I don’t feel the same way as I did the last time I left him.
Have I started hating him? I don’t know. I need to figure that out myself eventually. When I see him standing there, I feel no emotions — no trace of the liking I once had for him, other than the missing of being in the same space. Earlier, it felt the opposite.
Now, the urge to be with him, the way a kangaroo’s baby clings to its mother, no longer comes from within me. I feel that all of it has become a memory and stays as memories.
“Should I talk to him, or should I not? Because talking, conveying my feelings, doesn’t seem to bring anything positive.”
I have chosen this way. I might rationalise it’s his upbringing, and yes, that’s true. But apart from that, isn’t it me who is encouraging him more to remain the same? Isn’t it me who keeps echoing it as care and love? Am I not the one putting myself in pain, again and again, caught in a loop? Am I not the one believing he might change, when the truth is, he will NOT?
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Am I not the one failing to accept that he is a narcissist — just staying there, hoping that one fine day everything will be normal again — while ruining my own mental health for someone who doesn’t even understand the term and makes jokes out of it often?
“Dreams don’t always come true, even if they are right in front of your eyes. The dream of being with a person of the same wildness.”
You stop explaining. You stop talking about what happened. You are tired, yet you keep pondering why you’re still in it. Somewhere deep inside, I feel I want to go through the pain again and again — for reasons still unknown and unprocessed. I feel like I’m being sadistic to myself, toxic to myself.
At times, I let my frustration out on others, though when I realise it, I apologise. I never blame them for what happened. If I rewind, I know I’ll see that I am the problem. It leads into a loop of self-blame.
The controlling tone, the raised voice, the male showenistic ego, the rudeness — they still remain the same. I don’t know how I am going to tackle them.
There is uncertainty everywhere. Even I am uncertain about my own existence. If my soul leaves, I will no longer be here. May I try and find peace in them at least…
I feel worthless again. One question stays with me: how can someone be so unapologetic, so completely lacking in emotional empathy? Even the hardest soul keeps some empathy hidden within. Yet with him, it doesn’t seem to exist. Nowhere to be sensed.
Why am I still here?
What am I doing?
And, in the end — WHO AM I?
