I don’t know if it’s a common deominator for most people that they tend to torture themselves, especially emotionally, to make due for the mistakes done in the past but for me, I realize that I have become somewhat a person like that.

Growing up, I find myself to have a life that I can say is ‘lucky to be unlucky.’ I don’t want to divulge any personal feelings about my life through a blog but I can empathize with people who have grown up being emotionally scarred by the people who I have grown up with and where a place can only be called a house and not a home. 

I tend to complain a lot about my life to myself and to God, and most of the times it hits me that there are worse people that have gone and are going through life at its most worst. And I could admittingly say that I would not trade my life with the person who lives on the streets with just a cardboard and starving stomach. I’ve learned to be grateful of what I have, although sometimes it still slips and I would wish to have another life, I am always gutted by the fact that other people out in the world have less and still find it within them to be happy.

I’m not a person who can find happiness amidst pain, sorrow and darkness. I think if I had grown up with an abusive childhood, I would be gone now. I have realized that I am a depressing person and often my writings, fiction and poetry, consist of pain and sorrow. I guess most part of my life I grew up in fear, loss and feeling alone. Those three things can seriously alter one’s view of life. I guess that’s why I write so much painful stuff because it brings the pain out somehow, although never enough to make it disappear. Sometimes, it even intensifies it.

I have always wanted to escape. All my life I wanted the idea of escaping and after everything, I cannot simply summarize into one word what I want to escape from. I used to say ‘life’ but realized that that is what I want, a life, where I don’t feel trapped or the feeling of being alone and scared doesn’t bother me in a dark way but I want to feel excitement out of it knowing I can get something out of life.

Most of the time I just feel stuck. And I write and read painful stuff just to torture myself because I know that even being emotionally scarred, I’m not innocent. I’ve done and still do things that are a result of the scarring. And I hate myself for those actions but most times I believe I do them because it momentarily takes me away from all the feelings I don’t want inside me. 

No one really knows me, and if they did, I guess they wouldn’t be liking the person inside. I don’t like me inside. 

And I want to change that. But change is such a strong action that it makes it easier said than done. Change doesn’t come in a day, week, month or even a year. It begins with willingness and I don’t know if I have that yet. Maybe a spark of it, which I want to light so very badly into a flame that causes wildfire. 

I just wanna be me, but somebody else.