Insignificance

Nothing makes you realise your insignificance like living in a busy, populated European city. As I sit here in my room listening to the strumming of a guitar, life seems so important. Life feels like it revolves around me, like the pain that I am feeling is enormous, that whatever decisions I make will be life-changing. And yes, to me, they are- to me, my life is what is most important.
I get to school as a faceless stranger, a human being in a sea of human beings. I cross 'the most famous bridge in the world', just as countless others have done, and admire the view of the city- just as countless others have done. I have to dodge tourists along the way, cursing them as if I am superior; completely ignoring the fact that not many years ago, I had the exact same status in the exact same place. I get onto an underground train, surrounded by people I don't know and people I will never see again. As the train rattles in its dark, deep tube, I reflect on how every one of these people has his or her own life. They have a job to go to, a family to hold together... but rarely do I see any emotions. The people on these trains switch off as soon as they sit down, almost like computers on hibernation. Once they reach their stop, off they are again, like ants going about their busy chores. And so do I. As I make my way out of the station and onto the street, I wait just like everybody else for the little man to turn green until I cross the road.
My lecture is in a theatre. Again, I am a faceless stranger among hundreds of students. My books are out and I am ready to listen... but it doesn't work. I'm finding it hard to control my feelings, and as soon as my lesson starts, I am lost in a sea of thoughts. It is almost like everything else disappears and I am in my own world. In this world, dark thoughts loom. Sometimes, all I know is despair as it feels like everything is slipping out of my hands. Everyone is moving on with their lives, but I feel so stuck. My life has always felt like it is contained between 4 walls. Nothing goes in, nothing comes out without explicit approval. My hope that being here will change things has failed... I have realised that the problem is not those around me, the problem is me.

Fear

You have a fear that grips your heart and squeezes your stomach. It’s quiet, too quiet… so the music you put on stays in the background. Your thoughts are wild, a hurricane in your head. You try to catch as many as you can, get a glimpse of your emotions. Because you don’t know how you feel, there are too many of them, not enough you. Your feelings of love, loss, hate, despair are all so intense that they hurt. Suddenly a memory comes up like a punch to your stomach. You try to clear it all, but you can’t, you can’t because pushing down the volcano will only bring it up harder.
If only we had an off button we could push. But then what? If we use it, will it all come back once we are on again? Is there no way to escape this? Are thoughts physical? Where do they go once we are done with them?
You can’t trust yourself, because you don’t know what you want. Does anyone? What goes on underneath that barrier to the subconscious? The only thing you are sure of is that you have a great sense of pain, and loss, and you are sitting here, your body has a mind of its own because you don’t know where you’re going. Maybe you’re trying to overtake your thoughts, leave them behind. And the darker it gets, the longer the road, the heavier and harder the thoughts push.
You’ve lost yourself. The person you trusted the most to tell you what is right and wrong is gone. Who can you listen to now, if not your own body? Nothing matters but the fact that you’re gone, and in your place is paranoia and fear. It’s like losing trust in your lover because of infidelity. How much does it take before you can trust them again? How much will it take for you to trust yourself again? And there will always be that doubt, the ‘what if’, and if your judgement is wrong, it’s all over.

Note: This was written from personal experience, and although the story is not really over, the post feels finished. Maybe it was because of the finality of the situation, but I cannot continue it. Whatever the case, I think it's good to have something to look at that shows you a time in life when feelings like these were still fresh.