Me coming from You

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• April 8, 2018

You think maybe the only thing you’ve ever been 100% sure about is that you never want to be too far from the ocean.  You need to be close enough that you can just go there, on a whim, even if it’s too cold to go in, but ultimately, you will need Mother Oceans embrace.

It’s there where you feel at peace, and everything doesn’t seem so bad, if bad at all, and there’s clarity.  You can’t capture that feeling in a bottle, like ship in a bottle, but you can return to that feeling as long as you’re close enough to the water.

You know by now, that every time a part of you grows, something else breaks.  You know that you snapped one day at the age of 23 and lost some part of yourself.  Though you no longer remember what part that was, you still miss it.  You know that everyone is born with a light, and sometimes, sadly, others crush it before a person can even reach adulthood.  You also know that some people snuff their own lights.  But more than likely, it just slowly fades away.  You know your light becomes so bright, so intense, so rapturous, that you feel such a deep happiness and beauty for the world, for your loved ones, for nature, for yourself, and you can feel it all the way to your fingertips and your toes.  You also know that light gets so dim, you lose sight of it.  You know it will go out.  You know it.  One day.

You know that even using the term “light” sounds stupid as you write it down, but you can’t think of any other way to describe it.  And you think, perhaps, by calling it “light” people will understand.  But you’re not sure it’s even worth trying to make others understand if you can’t really fully grasp it yourself.  But even that’s not true, you know.  You already know you do understand it, but never for a long period of time.  The understanding comes and goes as much as the light does.

In a sense, it’s just balance.  It’s just ying and yang.  That if you tip too far into the light, you’ll tip too far into the dark too.  It just goes around and around.  People tell you that despite your macabre posts, your weary of life writings, that they’ve never seen you this way, that you always seem happy and mocking and laughing.  But perhaps that’s not you, it’s them; it’s them that bring it out in you.  You’re not the sunlight, you’re the moon reflecting the light.  Forever pulling the tides.

You know that life isn’t so terrible.  Or at least, your life isn’t so terrible.  It’s mostly good.  Still.  And you’re not sure if the meds you take are doing anything at all.  But you’re too afraid to stop taking them.  Not because you don’t want to die.  Because you do.  And you don’t even know why that thought exists, and sits there, and waits for the light to dim, but you know it’s there, comfortable, and it’s been there for sometime, and you think, maybe, the worst truth of it is that you like it.  You like it there.  Not because you’re fishing for attention or comfort.  Fuck no!  That’s why you’re a mystery to other people.  You can’t stand attention out of pity.  You like it because it is an escape route.  It’s an escape.  And you like the thought of escaping.  You need the thought of escaping.  And you think that’s fucked up.  This level of self awareness haunts you.  And it’s complicated.  Because it’s never really about the light or the dark, it’s everything in-between.

In the day, overall, you’re okay.  There’s still much that excites you.  That makes you laugh.  The world is wondrous place.  At night, it’s okay too.  Your home is such a comfort.  You’re happy to return to it, warm and safe, quiet.  The word itself brings you serenity:  Home.

However, you can’t even remember the last time you woke up and you weren’t sad.  Or scared.  Or anxious.  You think maybe that’s how it starts.  But you’re not sure.  You’re not so sure.  It’s your career.  It’s your passion.  It’s your work.  It’s your playtime.  It’s your alone time.  It’s the persons you love.  It’s all the lights that will go out, in time.  Darkness begets darkness, you know.  You do know the darkness lies to you.  It tricks you and lies to you.  But does that mean the light lies too?  Does the light lie?  And what would that even mean?  Or is that thought the darkness lying to you again?  Or is this all just the dust trails of your trust issues?

You wonder, how can anybody be sure about anything at all?  The thoughts pile up on top of each other, the infinite outcomes, though you’ll only ever know one.  The racing thoughts you once thought was normal, because it is, for you.  It’s normal.  When you’re quiet and someone asks you, “what are you thinking?”  Often, you’re not sure.  You just forgot.  They pulled you from a reverie.  Or maybe you were thinking that you do believe in free will, and all the opportunities and responsibilities that come with it.  Your fate is determined by your decisions.  You’re not sure what the right decisions are.  Because it isn’t always so easy.  There are so many options that are neither right nor wrong, they’re just different.  You’re causing your own panic attacks by thinking about having panic attacks.  You have choices, you know.  And sometimes that choice is just realizing that this is where you are now, and that’s okay, and you can be happy in the meantime.  That happiness is an escape too.  And you’re not sure if your dreams will drown your light.  Even if they come true.  You’re just not sure.

And you try to think of anything that you’ve ever been 100% sure about and it always leads back to the sea.  And the sunlight.  And the moon, far off in the darkness, proving to you that the light still exists somewhere.