Is It Just Me?
Between feeling everything and nothing…
Is it just me,
sometimes feeling almost apathetic,
like i can’t even cry,
like i’m empty in a way that doesn’t hurt,
just… exists.
And then suddenly i’m heaving,
full-on crying,
not loud, not dramatic,
just gasping,
breaking into hiccups
like my body remembered something
my mind was trying to forget.
Sometimes i’m genuinely happy,
proud of myself,
standing there thinking
maybe i’m finally doing something right.
And the very next second,
it’s loathing-
for all the things i could’ve done more,
done better,
done differently,
if only i had been stronger, smarter, faster.
Sometimes i like someone.
I trust them.
I believe, I hope, I imagine the what-ifs.
And then just as quickly,
I start building my walls again,
higher than before,
like hope is something I need to protect myself from.
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I want a happy ending.
A happy love.
A loving family.
A successful career.
A mother who’s proud of me.
My own children someday.
People i love fiercely,
and who love me back without hesitation.
But i’ve not really seen much of it in real life.
Only fragments.
Small glimpses.
And each time I get close to even hoping,
it fades a little more
as reality settles in quietly.
I want to do so much.
Be so much more.
And yet i keep asking myself-
Haven’t i already wasted so much time?
Haven’t i stayed stuck
inside my own potential?
Sometimes I’m the most hopeful person in the room,
positive, optimistic,
working through sleepless nights,
crying when it gets unbearable,
but still showing up,
still trying,
still believing there has to be something better ahead.
And sometimes the world feels fake.
Pretentious.
Too loud.
Like I don’t belong here at all,
like I belong somewhere else entirely-
a place with meaning,
with justice,
with power that actually protects what’s good.
And then, somehow,
I’m reminded again
that there is goodness in people.
Quiet goodness.
Unexpected goodness.
I live somewhere in between all of this-
between hope and exhaustion,
between belief and doubt,
between wanting to live fully
and wondering why living feels this hard.
Sometimes I’m okay.
Sometimes I’m not.
And sometimes,
even breathing through the day
feels like too much effort.
But overall, it’s all just me, right? The circumstances of my life, my innate nature, my experiences — everything so far has slowly shaped the person I am now. It’s all a part of me, whether I understand it or not. All I can really do is keep going, keep living, keep trying. Work hard when I can, rest when I need to, and spend time with people who love me and whom I love back, or with things that bring me even a small sense of comfort. And keep trying to be better, in any aspect of life, in my own imperfect ways, one day at a time.
