An Abstract Philosophy on An Explanatory Self-Diagnostic Personal Psychological and Emotional State

As a kid, you live a pretty sheltered life. And if you’re lucky, it’ll stay that way. But is that a good thing? Is it a good way to live? What will you do when it’s time for you to go off on your own in the world? Something none of realize, is that we are taught lies, and in turn, we learn to live in a false reality. Because as a kid, they tell you it’s all grow up, get a job, get married, get a new job, have a kid, and that’s it. And we as children, naturally believe that’s all is to happen. We think that’s it. But it’s not. The truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. Life, the world we live in, is so much darker, and so much madder, and so much better than that. But I discovered the truth about life the hard way. The way that includes how much scarier and how much harder, and how deep that abyss of darkness gets. The way that makes you value some of the smallest occurrences. The times you can manage a smile or a laugh, or allow yourself to feel joy. The way that reminds you of how it feels opening your eyes to wake up in the morning, or repeatedly hitting the snooze button on your alarm as you groan and grumble about not wanting to go to school, even simply the feeling of air as it moves in and out of your lungs. A way that reminds you of just how precious these feelings are, and how being able to want these feelings, enjoy these feelings, long for these feelings, are even more precious. And in the end, you begin to question how helpful it truly is to be hidden, and sheltered as a young child. Whether it is better to be young and naive, or young and knowledgeable. Because what awaits you when you live so sheltered, is an awakening. A rude one at that. And the important question is; what will you do when that awakening is so rude it breaks you?

Motivation, joy, laughter, peace, contempt. All of these things, these beautiful, wonderful, inner things. They are feelings, seen as simple and unimportant. They are taken for granted, and go unappreciated. To most people, they are only seen as reactions, as things that are meant to exist and are always there. Yet no one can see them for what they really are. They are privileges, not a right. They are meant to be used and nurtured, rather than ignored and treated as nothing more than an existence. Because in the blink of an eye they can be taken from you. And you’ll find yourself empty and lost. Searching for light where there is none. Discouraged, tired, and misguided you’ll become blind and settle for a tunnel of darkness, expecting to find light at the end of it. And eventually, you will discover instead that the tunnel is of never ending darkness.

It seems as though it makes no sense. Written off as nothing more than an attention seeker rambling on about dark, gloomy, somber things, just to fill up space. Truth be told, that’s how it’s supposed to sound. To most people, that’s all they would see when they read things like this. And, whether that be the case or not, it helps to prove a point. Because confusion, stems from misinterpretation. Deaf to the everlasting cries of the misunderstood, your ignorance then becomes concrete. It is not something that can easily be explained. How can you explain to someone with a peaceful home how it feels to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of the blood-curdling screams of your mother’s pain, as you lie in bed shaking and helpless? How do you describe the fear of saying, or doing the wrong thing created by an infliction of pain as punishment? How can you explain that to a person whose form of punishment is a confiscated cell phone? How do you tell someone with happily married parents what it’s like to have parents who won’t even speak to each other? Or how it feels to be torn away from the father you knew, being forced to shut him out, after finding out he wasn’t truly your father all along, and then to find out it was a lie; the product of an altered test? How do you tell someone who can be playful with anyone they like, with no issues being surprised or snuck up on, how it feels to be afraid of people being behind you, or touching you when you can’t see them? How can you explain the agony of being touched without permission, and punished for it, to a person who cares little for who touches them and when they do it? How do you tell the most extroverted people, with lives more perfect than they even realize, the pain of coming to terms with the horrors of your life that you can hardly believed truly happened?

Is it an easy change? Going from someone who’s bubbly and happy, a hyperactive little kid who could never be brought down; to being nothing more than a shell of a person who gets up only because they have to? Who smiles, laughs, goes to school, does their work, all because you have to? You don’t want to, but you can’t let them in, you can’t let them see the inside, the truth. You have to appear as the perfect, genius girl you were raised to be. You can’t make mistakes, you can’t screw up, and you definitely can’t show how empty you truly are, because people aren’t to be allowed to see the broken girl you’ve come to be. And so telling your peers to be grateful that they want to do their assignments, whether they say so or not, is no easy feat, nor is it an option. Because wanting to do something should not be confused with having to do something. And it’s near impossible to explain, motivation and obligation. Explaining how separate the two things truly are. Because you won’t know until you feel nothing but obligations, rather than the motivation needed to complete them.

So no. It’s not an easy change. And it’s not a welcomed one. It’s conflicting more than anything else. Trying to be the person you truly are, but having so much fear and pain in your way, consuming your heart. Everyone has a fear or two of their own, for they are only human. Spiders, snakes, small spaces. But, see, those are natural. Imagine being afraid of people. Of their intentions. Afraid of change. Afraid of emotions, good and bad. Of feelings, of dreams, of smiling, of being, Imagine how it feels to be afraid of happiness itself, knowing it never lasts long. Of death. And of life itself as well. Stress, confusion, pressure, everything. You’re just afraid. Afraid of everything but pain, because you’re far too used to it for you to fear it. Now take away that fear of death and replace it with the fear of being trapped, forever bound to your chaos, Your inner chaos. Add in the need for control of this chaos. What’s there now? Is it a good thing? Is it light? Is it visible?

The path of it. The way it flows. The thickness, the marks, the scars. The width of it’s path. No pain. Not anymore. Not like the pain on the inside. It makes you see maroon differently. Imagine it in a different sense. And in turn, you see it differently, possibly as it truly is and has always been. Maroon is no longer pleasant, nor is it unpleasant. For now it only exists. And yet, its existence has more meaning now. It serves as a warning, silent as it may be. A siren that is not easy to be heard. It stains, leaves marks, then creates tattoos. But its color fades in no time at all, and the tattoos soon become invisible, though they scream for help, begging to be rescued from the pain that consumes them. But how can you be saved if no one can hear you scream? How can you be healed, if no one can find your pain? But how do you cry out when you have no voice? This is what becomes of a mind clouded by pain, and by fear; and to a soul and to a body drowned in darkness, with self-hatred being the only form of light. Even as you regain this control, it’s as though you are destroying something else to get it. Because you are. And the only one who knows it is you.

To live like glass, it is a reality. To be made of it, that is your reality. Nothing ruptured and strong on the outside. But fragile and shattered on the inside. And yet not one can see, because though you’re broken to the point where you’ve no clue how you’re still together and in one piece, it seems as though that is the design. So the artist who created this broken-mosaic-type glass statue is praised, and everyone moves to the next thing. But not without poking and prodding and testing, with the intentions to see just how strong the glass truly is. To test how much impact is needed to make it shatter into a million pieces. But there is nothing that can be done. Because you are glass, you cannot fight back, for the problem would be worsened. You are fragile, and only you know. So you must look out for yourself, as no one else will. And the ones who try will only disregard what you try to tell them and try to show them. Because they couldn’t care less about the things that are important to you, or the things that they must keep in mind for you, though they are the ones who pushed you and persuaded you to trust them in the first place, and let them help you. But the question is, why do that, to show only that you care for yourself and yourself alone? Does that make sense?

And of course the same things transpire everyday. The same thoughts swirl. How can you live like this? How can you go on like this? How can you still hold on to something like this? How is it that you still manage to stay strong? You ask yourself these questions two or three times a day. How can you do these things still, after doing so for what seems like a lifetime? Naturally, with no answers to these questions, you change what you’re asking yourself, coming up with answers for yourself. Why? Why do you continue? And why should you? Why fight, why try, why survive when you should not have to? The one and only question you find an answer to, is why do you have to live, to survive, a life that is nothing but pain? Your answer?

You don’t……………..