being

(Implied sa, implied abuse , mental health)

What is my purpose in the life? Why I was born? To help? To protect? To fight? To help the artist-or kill the muse. How could I just let things be when one of my greatest fear is leaving this world without being able to change anything? How would I just want to be “someone” in the world without even trying?

How even I am supposed to fulfill my purpose if I cant even find peace with the conflicts in myself.Will I always be too much? Too emotional , too soft , too calm , too wild , too kind , too weird? Or will everything always will be too much to me? Will panic always going to grab me by my legs pulling me deeper and deeper into its depths just by the though failing even when there is nothing to fail at all? Will my room always be too messy for others? Will I always have to take deep breaths before eventually starting to cry even worse than before?Will I always have to cry under the crushing weight of my own emotions?

I been a good friend and a bad one.A swan and who is also a witch.A kind lady with a beautiful heart and a devil.A sun and a moon…So which one is the real me?Who am I?The one I saw when I look in the mirror?The one that captured on photos?The version my friends tell me or the one my parents tell me?Maybe there isn’t a real me.Maybe I’m nothing perhaps at the same time I’m everything or maybe I am the observer between them piercing through half.

I was 5 when I become my mothers therapist. I learned the tie between memories,emotions and responds long before I could even tie my shoes.I didn’t understand but I felt the meanings of her words.She would whisper the bad things happen to her, all the bad things my dad.Sometimes her tears would soak the pillow mixed with my very own tears.I was scared too.I didn’t have any of these memories I was just a baby when they happened…so why did I felt a heavy feeling at my chest like I was the who lived though them.I would pat her head or wipe her tears with my tiny hands hoping to make her pain disappear even when ıt’s pouring right into my heart. “It’s okay now mommy.Its long gone.He is long gone” I would say as she would softly smile and tell me “It’s not your fault.I’m grateful that I birthed you” would you be still saying that in 12 years future mommy? I am now 17 and there isn’t any place in my heart for my own pain.I can make people happy and loved expect myself.I still feel like my happiness connected with how much I can solve other people’s problems.

I was 6 when it happened .A touch that lingered way too long on my skin leaving a burning feeling that felt hotter then any fire.A memory my brain completely deleted until middle school.Something wrong before I even knew the wrong.Now I am 17 and its still a photo I can’t rip, a voice will be not heard by anyone not then-not now.Was it really too late to remember?Too late to tell? Time is a cure for everything expect death.But can time cure the stories that never told? The feelings that only exist in memories?Even though they play on my head almost everyday? Can a wound heal if you don’t wanna accept you are wounded?

I was 7 when I was hiding under blanket as my parents fight.Pressing my hand to my ears trying to make their voices go away,trying to make myself disappear.Threats,shouts,slamming doors piercing through my little world.Trying to look like sleeping even though their voices were the loudest alarms for me.I was 7 when I decided I shouldn’t be “weak” anymore. I am now 17 and I still try to hide away my problems with sleeping,hoping they will disappear when I wake up.Its still hard for me to not to be “weak”.It’s hard for me to stand for myself in a argument as my tears start flow before my words.

I was 8 when my dad leave my mom and me alone. It was loud like anything else he done in his life.Loud but empty like a empty food can.Some fake tears poured from him that will be forgotten over the next day.I felt like I should care I should be sad…I should be crying but only thing I was feeling was relief-or even maybe freedom.I though him going will be the end of my problems end of mommy’s problems.Well maybe not because life always keep bringing more problems but at least now me and mommy were free from the person make our life living in a hell.Now I am 17 and its still just me and mommy.

I was 9 when my dad “apologized” before making the same mistakes.He come to our house mommy let him in.How could she…after all the things we been through…she been through…is it because of me?They can’t just cut things out cause they have me…a tie.I didn’t want to be a tie I wasn’t something they could hold on to.He start to come few days in a week to stay with us…then the week come to months then years until we didn’t see each other again.Not that I care or not that he cared.Now I am 17 and the doubt the little me felt holding me back like a chain even now.What if people I love just decide to…go away in my life?What I just end up alone?What will happen when mommy will go?

I was 10 when mom started getting her anger for someone to me.I tried to find excuses for her she wouldn’t do this she was my mommy ,my angel, my protector.She was the one who hugged me when I cry over father , she was the one that carried me to parks , she was the only person who was always next to me.How could she be so familiar yet felt like a stranger at the same time.How could she be so loving then start shouting in the other…I was confused at 10 I didn’t know if she liked me or hated me,I didn’t know if I was a good or bad daughter.Now I am 17 and I still don’t know the answer but I know she gone through so much and I know sometimes I am unreadable.So at 17 I don’t blame any of us.

Now I am 17 close to start point rather than the end point.At 5-6-7-8-9 and 10 I would say “I will know what I’m gonna do when I’m in high school!” I finished high school but I still don’t know what I exactly want to be or what to do.I look around people around me I envy people who knows what they want to major on ,what they want to do ,where they want to go.I don’t know where I stand or where I am going. Its a foggy way.I don’t know what’s next maybe a forest maybe a hill.Every choice I made feel like a important decision , every little mistake feel like its going to change my life forever.

I look mirror I look tired.My never going away eye bags are feel like a tattoo on my skin.I notice every little detail on my face some scars some pimples some hair.Its almost overwhelming to notice everything.I don’t want to notice anymore.I don’t want to think about someone else’s feeling before mine.I don’t want to find my insecurities beautiful on people.Once in my life I want to fully have a control over my body and emotions,once in my life I want to comfortable in my body.

“I don’t know what I am.”

“I don’t know what I am gonna do”

“I don’t know when will I be me”

I don’t want to remember these questions on daily basis.I want to be the kid with a childhood I was never be able to have.I want to lay in the grass, run in the park , play with my toys and spend my time without a care in the world because my brain is packed with the thoughts I had to hide many years.

“It’s not your fault.I’m grateful I birthed you” the sentence my mom said keeps ringing in my ear.Like a double edged sword sometimes it help me to get out from my deepest nights because I know if I cant mom will help me, mom will be there for me wrapping me like a warm cotton blanket.But sometimes it brings me even way deeper.What if I can’t pay off her hard work.What if I can’t make her proud.It’s my responsibility to stay focused,go through everything,study hard and make her happy.That’s why I keep asking myself: “What’s my purpose?”

Now I am end of my 17 now I come to realize maybe the purpose doesn’t ring your doorbell or its not a ball you can try catch.Maybe the purpose isn’t arriving the end , maybe the purpose is going though the foggy way with all the slopes.Maybe the purpose is being not “being yourself” because you carry the faces and stories of people you know, not “being someone you idolize” because you never can know someone’s full story. Its about “being” because we are mix of the people we know.I’m my mothers face, my grandmas personality, my besties happiness , my fathers talent , my own memories and sadness and so much more. I’m a messy being just like we all are. We are crazy and calm, young and old, helpful and hateful at the same time.We are beings absorbing other beings.

For now I live the day first I push my thoughts back for later.I smile at the cats, sing as I walk and try to do everything I couldn’t before.I still have breakdowns but they are not entirely me without my good times,they don’t decide my worth.I still don’t have everything figured out but today I am in today and I’m just a being living.