This post isn’t going to be poetic. It isn’t something related to the deep dark demons or the beautiful benign love. It’s about telling you how it is. Straight and simple, like a shot of neat whisky. Bitter, yet in a tranquillizing.
The past few days, I’ve been feeling like something is missing. Like a piece of me or my soul is left at the far end of a ceaseless well (antithesis, I know, smart observation). I call it the ‘Missed The Train’ feeling. It’s very simple. It feels like I’m at the platform, clutching the ticket to happiness, standing in front of the train that will take me there and yet, for some reason I’m letting the train leave without me. No, it’s not original, I’ve picked it from a movie but the actress says that she feels that way and now, I know what she means.
Life is going good. I have people around me that love me, I have my work, college, family, a good collection of books and movies to binge on and yet, I feel like I’ve missed the train. I don’t feel happy even though I don’t have a reason to not be. I constantly feel the need to be hugged and reassured that people around me, care about me. My FOMO is unbelievably real at this point but I also understand that it is irrational.
I know…those of you who aren’t going through this will think I’m not making any sense, but bear with me. I guess that’s what you get for being too understanding. When somebody says something that hurts me, ‘I understand’. When somebody bails on me, ‘I understand’. When people shut me down or my idea, ‘I understand’ and my little heart convinces me to believe that it’s my maturity but for once I’d like to not understand.
I want to be irrational and fight. I want to be annoying, irritating, stupid and, pardon my french but, as bitchy as possible. I don’t want to be the bigger person. I see my train leaving and I want to get on it no matter who I need to push. Maybe then this feeling will leave me because for now, it has tarnished my very existence.
When, why, what, how, are futile questions I don’t know the answer to. I can’t trace it back but every time I try to remember the last time I laughed and I mean, REALLY laughed, I can’t remember. As cliched as it sounds, my life feels like it has no purpose. Like I am not doing what I love. I have grown so quickly that I no longer know what I love. I don’t know the answer to the question ‘what makes me happy?’.
I am sorry if you’re going through the same and thought I’d have an answer to this, but honestly, I shared this because I want you to know that you’re not alone and maybe writing it down and charting it out would help me ‘organize my clutter. It scares me to think that I won’t have another train to get on. I won’t have the chance to feel truly happy again. But maybe, just maybe….
