She Was Here . . .

Chapter 19

Here's a fact, humans are messed up.

We all act normal. Social. Caring. But the truth is that from the inside, we are all distorted. Every pain and problem breaks away a piece of us. It can render us useless, turn us insane. But most are good at covering it up. Pretending to be fine. Pretending to be sane even though, to an extent, insanity rules us.

What happens to those who don't or can't cover up? Those who can't hide their emotion and their distortion? They are shunned. Hated. Looked down on. We pretend to be fair and to treat all equally but then again, our insanity is rooted deeply. It makes us judgemental. So much that we forget that we are all essentially the same. The same kind of insane.

That was my insanity speaking when I made mistakes. Then repeated those mistakes.

Like the mistake of trusting. Or the mistake of liking someone. It's clearly easy to fall into that trap of getting friendly. Even with a stranger we create a connection.

Connections would have been amazing if it wasn't for the downfalls.

The pain that's inflicted on you, after losing a loved one, is a downfall. When your much earned trust is broken, that's a downfall. The unnecessary human conflicts, that's a downfall.

It all leads to a heart break, in other words, more insanity. And I had decided not long ago that I didn't need more insanity.

Yet that's exactly what I seem to be getting these days.

***

Coming home, Dad had tried to talk to me. He was awake, sitting in front of the tv. I knew he must have been worried, which was why he waited for me until 9pm before a work day. I knew that he wanted me to rely on him.

He cared. He showed it.

But I couldn't talk to him. I would have loved to. However for some reason I couldn't. My mouth was sealed shut and all I could say was, 'see you later', the minute he had tried to get me to speak.

But before I could head upstairs, he had held me back. Looking into my eyes with his empathetic grey ones, he had spoken the following lines, and I recall:

"Listen son. I know you aren't the type to always speak your mind, and I won't force you. Just know that whatever and whoever is upsetting you, won't easily take you down. You are strong my son. You know very well that running away isn't the solution to a problem. Face them and let them know exactly how they're bothering you. Face your fears head on . . . or I'm afraid you'd never get past them."

That night, it felt that he wasn't just talking about that one particular issue, which I had with that one particular girl, but more.

It was as if he was commenting on my current self. How I seemed to run away from all issues. How I seemed to dodge a problem when I saw it coming.

Yet I still couldn't find a way to face my problems. It is hard to know what to do, when people speak in nothing but metaphors. Why can't anyone be specific enough to tell you exactly how to deal with a problem.

That's probably my job. To figure out, what's my problem. And how to face it.

Letting out a sigh, I sit up in bed. For someone like me, I spend a lot of time thinking about the past. Before going to bed and after waking up. So I guess, a new problem and a new person to worry about is refreshing.