Hurting... yet enjoying it

Just when I think I'm riding high on the life wave, I crush below it. I think I'm not worth love, or goodness, or happiness, so I push everyone away, and then I slide into the darkness of self-pity, and I remain there - silent, on my own, alone. I like it. I cherish it. I don't let anybody in. I bite if you put your hand close to my mouth, when you see me talking. And yet, in the midst of this, I crave connection, I crave care and love like never before, but it must be perfect, it must be ideal, it must be of such heavenly nature that it will seep into me between the cracks of my scarred protection layer, the drama that I surround myself in, the impenetrable solitude made of excuses and busy schedules and abstract desires. I want to turn myself inside out, because my OUT want to be alone, but my IN wants to be loved and be together.

Or, maybe, I'm a changeling, and I adapt to situations - one side for one, another - for another. I want to belong, and yet as soon as I feel I am being owned, I turn inside out again, and I want to be left alone, I want to have my freedom, I want to do what I want, when I want, with whom I want, or without whom I want. I never could want in my life before, I suppressed my wants, I adjusted to others, I shaped my being to them, to be the perfect fit, to change to adapt to soften and to be pliable - to be formed into any shape. What is happening now, I harden. I am finding my shape, my own shape, and I don't want to adjust anymore. I want to live my life as I want it, and every day little pieces of it fall into place. One of them - my personal space, my being alone, my being with my own mind - having my own thoughts, not sharing them and being happy about it. I have never had a craving of being alone before, I was always dependent on others, I suffered when being left on my own. Not now. I revel in it. I hurt, I think I am depressed, but I secretly like it. It's new, and it's defining me. I am on the border of enjoying it and running away from it. I want to just lay in bed with a book, on my own, with my own thoughts, read it, then roll over on my stomach and think about it. Cook it in my brain, and maybe not even share it. This is new. 

Or maybe I have never had this need before, and maybe it has developed out of all the changes in my life - the balance. The grey area. Something I never had and never could have, according to some of my friends. I lives in the black and white area - things were either good or bad, far or close, heavy or light. Somehow I fought the idea that they could be int he middle, and stable. That I could jump above, dive below, but also swim in between and be ok with being quiet. I want to dive in deeper, to dig out all pieces of me and look inside, cave in and understand - what is it that I want. What is it that makes me happy. What is it that makes me - me. And I am doing just that - looking inside. That's why you can't see my head - it's hidden it the stomach. I am a nasty pretzel - and don't even try untangling it - it's not your job. I got myself into it, I will get myself out. I feel like a muscle that has never been used - is waking up. I used it for the first time, and it's sore. I flex it, and it hurts. I stretch it, but I want more. I want to work it, I like it. It makes me feel alive. It makes me see things - inside. I am not used to this. I am used to being inside other people's heads, I am used to inquiring about how others feel, but, for the first time, I feel like they can inquire too. It could be the one who is sitting quietly, observing. It's ok if others wonder, it's ok if they ping me. I will answer back. But for the first time in my life, I am not feeling obligated to do the pinging. No longer.

I'm ok on my own, and I like it. I'm fine with what I have right now, and I don't want to move to change it. It will change around me, and I can take the time to observe it. Life won't end without me flapping my arms and kicking my legs around - it will all pass, but I can still be sitting in the middle of, still observing. Is this nirvana? I don't know, but I don't feel like standing up. It's comfortable, and the pain has subsided - my limbs adjusted, and I am watching life happening.

Photo by Ko_An.