You Need To Learn How To Be Comfortable Alone


It seems like a constant yet futile search for something not within reach. But even you don’t know what you’re searching for. You know that everyone has their bad days, but why do your bad days feel like you’re dying? Like you’re fading away. Surely you’re not the only one battling your own demons, but how does everyone else get through it whole? You wonder if you’re the defective one for feeling with such intensity.

They say that emotions are controlled by the mind, but you swear you can feel the physical twang in your chest. A sharp pain. Relief doesn’t come. You go through long periods of good times, where you’re “happy”. At these moments, all is good – it doesn’t get any better than this. But inevitably, irrevocably, it comes.

Sometimes you’re on edge, so close to a breaking point. From shattering completely. But you try so hard to keep going, to keep your head above the waters. You know it’s pitiful – a cry for help – but during these times it all honestly feels hopeless as you give in.

You lost yourself again.

The tears well up and fall, but it doesn’t hurt. The sadness is replaced an even more terrifying emptiness. Apathy takes over, but you’d rather hurt and feel something, anything. It’s come to the point where you’re constantly searching for something more, something to fill the void. Raw desperation and desolation play hand in hand fighting for dominance.

Sometimes, it’s as if you don’t exist anymore. The dim eyes, the lack of expression displayed in your demeanor as you trudge through your days. The fog doesn’t lift, and each day becomes an effort to push through the haze impeding your movements and residing at the edges of your vision. Just trying to make it through this messed-up thing we call life.

You’re not sure how to put it into words. A tidal wave, crashing over your head and swallowing you into its depths. Sinking, because you’re not struggling to stay afloat. But simultaneously, the eerie peacefulness is a temptation. A prison cell, caging you in. Trapped, because you’re not trying to escape. Stuck in a dark place, falling into a bottomless chasm. The free-falling sensation, because you’re unable to stop yourself from plummeting.

You don’t want to be an inconvenience, so you’ll get through it alone. You’ll be strong from the shadows. You’ll muffle your sobs and hitching breath. You’ll wipe your own tears and hug yourself closer.

These breakdowns are few and far between, but each one leaves you unable to move, to think, to see the light. You know it’s irrational, but that doesn’t make it any better. You know it’ll pass, but at this moment, at this time, you can’t. You want to save yourself, but that would equivalent to the blind leading the blind. You’re not qualified.

Who are you pretending to be ok for? What are you really searching for?

You’re becoming nothing more than a vessel, losing your contents as they’re sapped each time you crack. Half-empty, half-full? Those don’t even matter when all you’re trying to do is retain some of your former self.

You’re coming to standstill. Everyone’s moving forward, so why are you still here? They’re all changing, so why are you still the same? It gets better, you tell yourself. One day it’ll stop coming for you. Someday you’ll be strong enough.

But you can’t disappear – so you’ll stay here, just the same.