I think … I think that the world is a big cloud of wild emotions. It’s a kaleidoscope of pulsating beats and noises with silent screams and wildest dreams and it’s full of wonder and made up realities mixed all together. It’s a big cloud of smoke that blurs your vision and you just get lost in the moment. You try to clear your vision but you are just going around in circles and nothing is making sense. And in that moment, you grasp a sense of what’s going on but you are breathless and slowly you are losing consciousness. But as soon as the dust settles in and you start getting a clearer picture of what it really is, you realize that you are just there…standing at square one.
That’s how I picture it when intense emotions consume me and invades my senses. It’s like there’s this dark thing that’s just hovering in circles and waiting for the right moment to cloud my vision and mess my conscious mind. And it makes me feel anxious and scared because often than not, it ends up messing everything. I think, a part of me knows that it’s never going to stop and I will always be in a state of battle and I don’t know how dominant that part can be.
There’s a line to a Taylor Swift digital booklet that I’ve always related to and it stuck in my head the very first time I read it. The line reads “we are never out of the woods because we will always have something to fight for.” And I think what I think I’m fighting for here—in this age and time—is ensuring the survival of what little relationship I have with my small circle of friends.
In some previous occasion, I have written about a relationship that I am in to. Not the romantic type of relationship. It’s more of a kinship-type of friendship at which the number one feeling I’ve felt in the entire relationship was anxiety. Because we’ve started pushing and pulling one another and we have always been hitting a road-block and it made our friendship fragile and tentative. We’re always on the look-out for falling debris and broken strings and the more we try to mend it, the more we find holes in it.
In some other occasion, I’ve written about how I felt when I’ve moved in to a different city with a little sense of familiarity to it. And I’ve sort of described how I felt about it and how I’ve managed to, somehow, overcome the growing anxiety inside.
I’ve written about how one very romantic relationship needed to end in order for us to save ourselves from the monsters we have created. And I’ve described how when it’s ended how fragile you become and how, with the broken pieces, you still remember everything—the mundane and happy memories. But I’ve also sort of described how I saw myself being whole again despite how damaged I was.
All these things, all these written accounts, these are spurred by feelings I have felt the moment I catch them. These are moments when I felt dying inside, moments when I felt I am being mended by an invisible hand, moments when I felt that I am reborn. These are moments of intense emotions brought by semi-toxic relationships, spur of the moments, when I felt whole and infinite, and moments when I just felt me, plainly.
These stories are not with what was said or what happened. These stories are with the feelings that came along when it happened. And these happened when I lost my balance because I’m always at the either ends of the spectrum.
This world has a disobliging habit of moving too fast when you are enjoying the feeling and moving so slow when the moment is just not okay, but have you ever thought of moments when it’s just…right? I wonder what feeling we catch on occasions like that. Do we feel happy, sad, anxious, or disoriented?
Above all these, I know that the experiences these feelings brought changed me. And that’s the worst part of it—it’s not losing the feeling. It was losing yourself. And the question this leaves is: do you know who you are before you lose who you are?