May 17, 2016
We are all in denial in a lot of ways; in so many levels, to the point that we would never admit it when we’re truly hurting. We’d rather be seen as strong and tough not because we’re cocky or something… But because at some point, it was easier to pretend you’re strong than it is to admit that you’re actually not, and that you’re likely to break into pieces at any moment..
Is it because of Pride?
Perhaps. But for me, though– I’d rather say it’s not. For someone who had borne so much; for someone who’ve been hurt so much.. For someone like me, who had been in pain so much. I’d say having just ‘Pride’ — a reason for denying that you’re hurting must be too shallow.
There’s even a lot of reasons for it… e.g. fear. Yes, fear. I seldom say that word because…well, I still don’t know why. But maybe because I just don’t wanna talk about it… Maybe because it’s a sore part for everybody? — Or at least, for me. I still don’t know. But here it is,– fear of getting judged by others; fear of letting them know you inside, fear of letting people get involved in your troubles… and your own private life. Fear of letting them, or anyone in.
Or maybe… simply because you know it very well that they won’t understand it anyway. Or you’re afraid to tell them and realize that they don’t really care. Because you know exactly how it feels like to be rejected, and that your feelings would be, or might become underrated at some point…
Or maybe there’s no one to talk to.
It’s hard enough to have that heavy load of feelings on your chest, and you’ll look around…and then look for someone to share it to; only to find out that… there’s nobody. Nobody there for you; and that you’re all alone and it kills you.
Or maybe…it’s just hard. HARD AF. I mean, how do you suppose to tell your feelings to begin with? I mean, dude, it’s a “feeling” and is supposed to be felt; they’re intangible. Sometimes it hurts to open up yourself to someone. Most of the time, it hurts that you can’t find any word to frame your current feelings, or situation… Let alone what’s going on inside you. It’s easy to cry, and we all know that. But who wants to be seen crying? So… I guess it’s easier to pretend you’re okay. (tho, not really)
Sometimes when you’re finally ready to open up to someone, they’re not paying attention — or simply didn’t care at all and it hurts even more. You thought they were there, you thought they’d understand. But they don’t. It hurts so much because you know you needed help; you need them, but it seems that they’re not interested and you don’t want to burden them with your loads of trouble either. It was hard enough to explain to yourself why you’re feeling that way, especially when you don’t really have an answer…– How much more trying to explain it to other people?
So, in the end… you probably just sit there, not saying anything. But you’re dying inside, breaking… and falling apart. It’s hard you know, — losing your mind, losing yourself… Back then, whenever I hear people saying they want to find themselves…. I was always like, “lol, what are these people? crazy? Hello? How do you lose yourself, is it even possible?” But at nineteen… I know. I know now. Nothing’s impossible. I was just too childish to realize before; immature enough to even understand what life truly meant. I realized, I actually don’t even understand life one bit. Until I find myself on the verge of insanity… I was getting torn between my sanity and losing it. I was losing my mind.. I was losing people.. I was losing my life. And I just wanna be gone.
It’s extremely difficult to talk about it without getting yourself burst into flood of tears… It’s like, you hid it well and kept it so long just so no one could ever see it, no one would really know about it… You built these high walls, a great big walls — just to prevent people from breaking in; to keep anyone from jumping inside and invading your privacy. To avoid a single crack get into it… You build it to restrict your feelings, to hold down of yourself. Not to let the floodgates burst open.
It’s hard to make people understand. Especially when you don’t even understand it yourself. It’s hard to say a word. It’s hard to make up a word for it. It’s hard when you badly needed someone, and see that you’re all alone because there’s nobody. It’s hard to keep those feelings up all to yourself because it’s — at some point, fatal and it’s killing you. It’s hard when you desperately wanted to cry, but you can’t. It’s hard to pretend you’re okay but it’s the only way we have. And it wasn’t a choice; but it seems to be the only option that was left for us… denying everything. It’s hard to stay when you badly wanted to go away, but you cannot leave…
When you come to think of it, there’s no easy thing at all. Everything comes at a price. Everything you do, everything you choose,– there’s always gonna be a result for what you’ve done. A consequence, a price. We don’t always have a choice. We don’t always get to choose what we want; especially when it wasn’t even among the given choices that was ahead of us in the first place. Sometimes, we are left alone to choose the only option that was left for us. We don’t really have a choice. Not always. Most of the time… we just have to persist, that’s why we do things even if we don’t want to, even if it hurts us.
Endure what hurts, thank what’s not.
But we are all in denial. And always will be. We can’t talk about it, we don’t want to talk about it. Forget that it hurts, bury it deep inside yourself.– Because it’ll always gonna be hard to talk about what hurts us, to talk about our fears, to talk about our pain… But keeping it inside, and letting it kill you ain’t an easy thing either. But you choose what you think is for the better; what you think is right, what you think is just appropriate. And you think that it was just right to keep it all inside than share it with them; and watch them suffer for what’s supposed to be just your own burden. But it’s hard to put a smile when your tears were brimming on the brink of your eyes… and I know that your chest is about to explode at any given moment, but just breathe..breathe.
Saying a thing ain’t at all easy. But pretending to be just fine ain’t an easy thing, either. But pretending seems to be the best option for that matter.
So… I think we’re neither in denial because of choice. Nor we’re just in denial by chance, we’re not being in denial because we’re killing ourselves and we’re fine with it… and we’re most probably not in denial because it was easier.
We’re in denial because that’s what our situation asks for. And we feel like, it seems to be the only option that was left for us. To avoid killing others when they find out that you’re actually, dying inside.
We like to pretend but we don’t mean to lie. We don’t mean to fool others…or anyone. But we make ourselves believe that we can fool ourselves enough if we just keep on saying, and telling the rest of the world that we’re fine. We keep on fooling ourselves by telling each other we’re okay; that we’d actually believe it, eventually and hopefully.
But we are all in denial by heart. In denial by action. In denial on purpose…
I guess we’re in denial by fate. But it’s really hard to talk about it; let alone admit it.
And we are all in denial. But it wasn’t a choice, it’s a necessary preference.
But… no. Really, I’m fine.