12 July 2022 - Private or Peril?

The twelfth day of July.

I do not remember how the entire day went. I guess there was a bit of heavy rain, some spilling of tea on the staircase, and, of course, a huge amount of wool-gathering.

I spent the day browsing through stuff here and there. I came across this bunch of writing inspirations, two of them being, "Will you please leave me alone now so that I can continue to wallow in self-pity." and "Please be quiet, I can't even hear myself losing the will to live." I have a boutade for writing right now. Reminds me of the days when I was a teenager and loved writing in my journals, but unfortunately lived in a house where the concept of privacy never existed. Members of my family would read them and then proceed to use them to make fun of me or against me while arguing. I've never been able to trust them again since that happened. Not even with good news about my life. There is a tick in the back of my mind that the news will be tainted. I have a fear that they will snatch away that feeling of success from me. People will say, "Now you can keep an online diary." It is safe and secure. But, what's done is done. It remains with you, and you have the unduly duty to carry that scar forever. I remember trying to keep a journal after that when I had some space for myself but was never able to. I would end up throwing it away in the garbage dump from the rear balcony. And so I stopped being myself. Around them, and sometimes in the pages too. All I do is pretend, filter, mask, and fake.

I can't remember the last time I felt or was myself around them. They do not know at all. It is a level of discomfort that will make you want to take off your own skin. The agonizing moments of being around them. Always on the edge, walking around on eggshells. There is a block of acute small talks with no space for actual discussions consisting of nuances, understandings, or (dis)agreements, no matter what I do or how hard I try. When I think about it, the act of dismissing whatever I say is what has broken the thread between us. They keep pestering me to share it with them. But those horrific moments of being dismissed keep playing on loop. The fear is there and it's thriving. Sometimes, growing up, they would get annoyed or upset by me very easily and for reasons that were never revealed to me. I can still feel the silent scream "Leave" towards me from them whenever I say or do something. The close-mouthed condemnatory looks shut me up now. And, the fact that I have zero knowledge of what would tick them off pioneered the sack of anxiety, distancing, and over-sensitivity that only sucks the energy out of you. The only possible and accessible way out is to escape. The irony, I know, but it's comparable to being stranded in a foreign country where no one speaks your native tongue while you learn the local traditions. Every social interaction and discussion turns into a menacing maze to be solved. And every time I act authentic and am a little open, it feels like I'm "doing too much" and alienating people. I recently attended a family function. I secretly hope that whenever I am present at a family event or even at the dinner table with them, I do a good job of concealing the enormous feeling of unwantedness. I am always under the distinct feeling that I am a hermit crab doing my best to pass for a human while speaking to them. I have been trying to avoid such functions nowadays. Sometimes I don't even mind them; I simply can't handle the atmosphere of hanging out and conversing with them. I have never been able to be myself in those circumstances. There are too many hurdles for me to be seamless with them.

I don't know how to end this entry. I don't know if anyone is reading this. This is just the unloading of that sack of overthought emotions and unnecessary feelings that many labels as "teeny angst." Here I sit, on a rare day of having this room entirely to myself for a few hours. I try to split open this labyrinth-like drama of grief and solitude.

- Oizys.