How can a person feel so much, so deeply, and so irritatingly persistent?
Maddening.
It’s difficult to go about life trying not to let your emotions take over and completely overwhelm you— drown you. It’s hard to keep your composure when all you want to do is unravel. Frustrating and ever constant, no matter how grand or how bad, one cannot escape or elude them.
“Diamonds are forged under immense pressure.”
I am no diamond. I am more akin to a star that is slowly losing fuel. Moments before collapse, a star shines the brightest it ever has. And, without much preamble, it explodes. Uncontrollable and uncontainable. It’s messy, as all things in the universe tend to be. Without chaos, there is no motion— movement— forward. Without the loss of a star, there is no opportunity for another to be born.
Letting go of the naive pretense that we can control what’s uncontrollable is difficult— almost impossible. One has to try, or else they risk exploding.
Perfectionism leads you to shine for a split second, but doesn’t allow for long-term success. As discouraging as it may sound, the way onwards and upwards is through failure; however that may occur in one’s life, it’s the only way to differentiate what’s wrong and right for us. It’s the only way to find our way through our path. No path is paved before one’s expedition on it. Forged by our choices and actions, no path is ever the same.
Anger and joy, and sorrow; these are all necessary for experiencing life to the fullest. It signals that we are alive. To feel them is to live. It’s as scary as it is beautiful.
I do fear, at times, that I won’t be able to handle these emotions. I feel them too strongly. And I fear… I fear that instead of withstanding all these intense emotions and going about life— moving forwards— they will make my core collapse into itself.
Self-reflection is both a gift and a curse. The awareness that comes from looking inwards is both enlightening through its optimism and through the decay it presents. Look too hard, and you’ll get lost within yourself. Very little can help you find a way out once you’ve fallen in. The experience is similar to falling into a black hole. In theory, whatever falls into a black hole will get shredded and destroyed; its composition forever altered. It gets suctioned in and can never get out.
The life of a star will, inevitably, lead to its death. Some scatter their matter to dance around the cosmos, while others become this force— a black hole— that attracts things only for them to get destroyed.
I fear that I will become a black hole. The shockwave of my explosion will impact passersby. That is the moment when my matter turns into dark matter. It suck in whatever survives the blast and will rip it to shreds.
My world is caving in— actually, not the world, but my core. I’m slowly losing fuel. I need an outside source to pull me out, to help me preserve what’s left, before it collapses and explodes.
How can I ask for help when my emotions have always been a threat and are too big to withstand?
I used not to care if my core collapsed. But now… now I want it to survive. And it hurts. It hurts to keep trying, but I’ve tried the alternative, and it felt right at the time, but it doesn’t feel right anymore.
A collapse is inevitable, but it doesn’t have to occur now. Not in a year, or ten, or forty. It will happen, but it’s not the time. Not yet. A star shines brightest before it explodes, but I’ve yet to shine brightly enough for that to happen.
Not yet.
My goal is to become a published writer (yes, I have a book drafted, and yes, it is kicking my ass). In the meantime, and definitely not a requirement, you can support me on Ko-Fi (linked below). ‘Tis a hard endeavor to chase your dreams, after all.
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