chapter-1
Recently someone told me that I take things too serious, things that shouldn’t be bothering me at all. That I am over the top emotional.
At the moment I didn’t think too much of it, that is something I have always known but never cared about. It was normal for me. Until it started being a burden, until it started to reflect on my actions, my thoughts, my mental state most of all.
I got bothered way too much by what people said to me. I got bothered with what they think and why they say what they say, whether it was at work or during classes.
There was a time when I was lifeless, when I came crying to work after a whole day of classes and with minimal sleep. I wanted to be gone, to not exist. It was a dark time in my life.
Many people argued that it was a life I choose myself, that I didn’t need to take up university at that time when I was working. I thought it would be manageable to work less and still make it. That was the reason of my downfall.
It was too much for me. I stopped doing many things I enjoyed because I could never find the time for it which led to me being way to stressed. I was crying myself to sleep because I was powerless to change anything at that time. I would get worked up over little things, snarky comments, comments on my efforts during my shifts etc.
Along with many personal problems I can say I was not in a happy place. Now we go back to me being overemotional.
When I feel something, I feel it twice as hard compared to someone else. So when I was angry at the many injustices that hit me at that time, it brought tears to my eyes more often than not. Not because I was sad, miserable, alone, not understood but because I hate injustices, I hated that I was worth less to some people despite working twice as hard. That hatred fueled my tears, and at that time, it was a fuel source of unlimited power.
At one point I wanted to quit. People were driving me insane, I was working crazy hours I haven’t slept or ate right in months, and I still haven’t passed most of my classes I wouldn’t see my friends in weeks, not to mention reading a book, or writing a story, sketching a picture was out of the question.
I would break down when I was watching an episode of any one of my shows, when I was listening to music and I didn’t even care if there was anyone around. I would be walking around, listening to BANKS, trying hard to suppress the tears. Late at nights I didn’t succeed, but there was no one around to be ashamed for anyway.
Then after an exceptional bad day, there came I moment where I didn’t care. Which is ironic, because not caring is still an emotion, but on the opposite side of the spectrum. One person that I never thought would be anything like me virtually slapped me, right when I needed it the most. We have never before found mutual ground, we never talked about anything relevant. We didn’t know each other. She knew what I was going through, because she experienced the same thing. She knew what it was like to care too much about the world that doesn’t give a damn about you. Most of all, she knew how to kill that feeling inside that makes you uneasy all the time. And I listened… for the first time in a long while I stood and watched a total stranger knock some sense into me.
At that particular moment I hated her, I hated her with my entire being. I hated her for being right… but most of all, I hated myself. I have been cheating myself so long, thinking I was actually OK when I fact I was dying inside. Every time the carousel made a full turn, and every time the full circle was smaller and smaller and smaller…
It changed me, I am not going to lie and say that it didn’t. I always sort of knew this, but I needed to hear it from someone else, someone who is like me. It needed to be someone who understands at least a tiny fraction of what it means to be an emotional trainwreck.
It is not as important what she said, I am not going to bore you with the details.
I thought afterwards that we would never be able to speak again, that it would be so damn awkward. For the first few days it was, but we got past it.
I guess what I was trying to say is that you never unlearn to be emotional. You are born and stuck with that. From time to time you need someone to remind you that it will not always we shitting rainbows and skittles, that people are cruel and uncaring, that there will be times where you would like to “cut a hoe”.
That feeling should not live in you long otherwise there will be no room for the good things, the amazing things, the things that matter or will matter at some point.
The most important things is to accept that you are a walking wreckage. Embrace it. Never let it go. Someday, not so long from now, us, the emotionally scarred, will rule the world. It will not be a flaw anymore to care for others more than they care for you.

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