Waiting

I think the hardest part about being alone is waiting. Waiting for the right time to say something, waiting for the right time to reach out. Sitting here, going about life the way I always have, it’s not exactly difficult. The problem is not knowing what time is the right time. You don’t wanna ask out of fear of rejection. Now that I type it out, that’s what I realise it is.
Fear is the biggest killer of dreams.

So then I must ask myself: if the fear of rejection keeps me from the answers I so desperately want, how am I supposed to move forward? The answer should be obvious, that I should bite the bullet and get it over with no matter the consequence. That’s far easier said than done, of course. I’d hate for the bad outcome, that I’m not actually wanted anymore and I get my hopes up far too late. Could you imagine the heartbreak? The feeling of foolishness and naivety, right back again to being a little kid.

Assurance is an ample suppressor, doing a really good job of giving that extra layer of comfortability. Yet, its so hard to find it. Its so hard when you’re backed into a corner begging for air. Running away is so much easier, but the worst possible option. I don’t blame myself for feeling that way, though. It’s a safety blanket, a wall, some space for me to gather my thoughts and calm down. The thing I always forget, however, is that there’s a person on the other side of that wall just like me. My sight is too narrow to see that in these instances and instead my focus is on self-preservation. When that wall erects, its just me and me alone. Everyone outside of that wall is out to get me. They aren’t, in reality, that’s just what I tell myself out of fear.

It’s really sad, reflecting on it. It all could’ve been so easy, but sometimes these things just happen. Nothing is perfect, nothing will ever be perfect, and that’s okay. The important thing is awareness, seeing the signs, recognising those telltale signs. That’s what I miss, what I always miss. I’m determined to change that, however. Being ignorant to the cycles laid before me is what has cost me so much, and what will, if I am to repeat my same mistakes. I’m trying to not do that, and at the very least have evidence for it.

I try and write these entries honestly, but I look back and make myself laugh with how ridiculous it can come off. I’m a writer so I must be pretentious and vivid with the way I write. It makes my true feelings come off as disingenuous, performative, eye-rollingly cheesy. But how else am I supposed to do it? It’s the only form of expression that I feel can articulate my emotions and get my point across. Perhaps that’s what I was missing.  Yeah, sure, fuck it. I express myself like a character, but if that’s good enough for me then so be it.

I don’t think I have as much to say, but I’m trying to make a habit out of saying something rather than nothing. At least I’ll be combatting one of my biggest problems of not speaking my mind when I desperately need to. It’s easy when its not directly to someone, but rather to an audience of people I don’t know. Despite that, despite that I don’t know you, you read this. And whether you connect with it or not, I thank you.