Unraveling

 

Hey.

I have tons to tell you. Stories from Tokyo. Stories from working at a startup company. Stories of love. Stories of mildly amusing mishaps. Stories of longing.

I just really need to get things off my chest right now.

I've been having a hard time, and I'm not just talking from the creative standpoint. Ever since I got back "home" from Japan, reality feels surreal. Not in a good way. I don't know if it's the effect of the pandemic or whatnot, but I've been feeling inexplicably out of touch. 

I virtually have no friends. Being around my family was good for a month or so, and ever since then I've felt like a prisoner. I was lucky to only be unemployed for a little over a month before I got a job. It was only an internship, but a job nonetheless. I was lucky to be able to get out of the house at least twice a week to go to the office, gave me a little room to breathe.

If my stay in Tokyo was purgatory, then surely I have arrived in hell. Even in the best of things, the looming sense of dread haunts me to no end. A constant reminder of the fact that I belong nowhere, a reminder of the fact that I can never truly find peace. I can never find solace. Anywhere I look.

My reality is falling apart at the seams.

Everything I thought I knew was nothing short of an illusion. Everyone I hold dear have changed in my absence. My truth is made out of lies. Little by little, the cracks in the beautifully painted wall revealed the unsightly scenery behind it.

My surroundings have outgrown my wall of ideals. Year after year, my ideals and ignorance shielded me from any of the world's repulsiveness. The truth, however, proved too big to stay ignored. I feel naked. I feel foolish. I feel lost.

Is this growth? Is this character development? Is this genuinely all for the better?

I want to go back.

I want to restart.

I don't know what to do.

I am scared to death. But perhaps, the relief I seek lies within it.

The idea of eternal slumber has slowly grown on me yet again.

I am not fit for this world. I long only for peace, even a moment would suffice, yet even now, alone in my room, in the dead of the night, sorrow clings ever so tightly. 

I long only for peace. For solace. 

Is that too much to ask for?