I always feel privileged when someone decides to trust me.
Even though I felt really burdened with the need to rush back home to study on saturday, I knew it was right to make time to listen and just be there for someone.
I was a little surprised that she would want to eat with me alone without the rest of the cell, I just felt really honoured. The fact that she chose to trust me.
You know, when someone pours their heart and burdens and tears and everything to you, it’s just something really amazing. That they’d trust you with so much of a part of them. That they’d risk being vulnerable.
Trusting someone is learning how to be vulnerable huh? Not trying to be perfect all the time and unbreakable.
When was the last time I was like that?
It feels like a long time. Well, except for those times I where I was a wreck in front of Sis Livia and Sis Jolene. But even during those times I struggled really hard to keep my composure and I didn’t want to completely let loose (But failed horribly). When was the last time that I actually wanted to get everything out and not suppress things at all?
It’s embarrassing to be a complete wreck in front of someone. Why though? Pride, maybe.
I guess the only person I can really become a complete mess is alone in front of God. I just crumble and die sometimes. Usually all the feelings and emotions and pain and stuff just comes flowing out immediately after I close the door of my room, turn off the lights, and cry out to Him in my heart. Covering my face with a pillow, burying my head into it, screaming out the kind of scream that has no sound.
Man, I remember those days. It’s been a long time since I thought about them.
Things are pretty okay now, every day sort of just passes, a few laughs here and there, nothing really bothers me much (Besides exams but exams don’t count)
But I realised how I don’t think I’m really completely healed from those times.
A few days ago, just talking about it, recounting things, telling someone made me well up with that emotion again and I sort of teared up before I knew it. I thought I’d never feel that sharp piercing pain, like garlic or wasabi (Just in the heart) again.
And now that I think about it a little more, it’s kinda hard to imagine that that part of my life existed. A small little chapter. That those things ever happened in my family. It’s as if they never happened at all.
I always thought that it’s a bad thing to look back at these experiences. To dwell on them. But now, I feel like they remind me of who I am. Why I feel so strongly towards certain things.
I actually don’t like being happy and cheery all the time. I want to be sad some times too. It’s weird. I don’t know why. I feel like I’ve reached my maximum quota of cheeriness. So now I feel like thinking about sad things. Maybe I just want to feel more like a real, living person with problems. Not that I don’t have problems now, I guess I just find them really small and insignificant.
I think I also don’t want to stop thinking sometimes. I hardly think about things much when everything’s going pretty okay. I realised.
Not that I want bad things to happen to me all the time. I just don’t want to be carried away with the happiness and satisfaction with each day that I start chasing after it again when things go back to a downhill (Which will come eventually sometime).
Life feels real when there’s a downside to it. and when you learn from it.
I just want to feel like I’m really living.