The Restlessness of Me…

I am out looking for my words again because I need them.  I am reminded once again of the truth that in essence, what you truly need, you will find in yourself.

I read somewhere that “loneliness is a hard thing to handle. I feel it, sometimes. When I do, I want it to end. Sometimes, when you’re near someone, when you touch them on some level that is deeper than the uselessly structured formality of casual civilized interaction, there’s a sense of satisfaction in it. Or at least there is for me.”  But how long does that satisfaction last?  The satisfaction is so fleeting now, followed by regret, more questions and a painful, screaming “aloneness”. For after all, does that interaction even base itself on anything that is even remotely YOU in the truest sense or is it as everything else, just a second place substitute, accepted because at least it is something!
Here’s an honest confession.  I am a beautiful woman.  My skin glows, my eyes sparkle and my smile will make you feel like a king.  My hair can feature in an ad for a shampoo.  I could wear a potato sack to a wedding and still get more compliments than I can handle.  Here’s another confession!  I hate the way I look.  I am reduced to the colour of my skin and the arrangement of my features.  I hate the way I look because it has reduced me to nothing beyond it.  I dazzle people and I have the acting skills to keep them that way; dazed and confused, unable to look away from me, and yet unable to see me as I am…  I am exactly who they want to see.

But then, I don’t want them to see me.  Because the me that I am, is terrifying.  Insecure, angry, frustrated and oh so discontent!  I have a battle going on inside myself.  And I am plagued by the eternal question of what I was sent to this world for.  I just know that it wasn’t ‘this’!  And this is everything in my life that I have done so far and am doing every day.

I sometimes feel that perhaps I want too much.  The people I connect to emotionally find me exhausting because then I am all there.  And I admit, I demand time from them, just for me.  But as in all relationships, I often end up feeling like I have been slapped in the face when I ask for something.

I’m tired, subjugated by my own wants, which in turn are superceded by people who are bound by their own limitations! Why do their limitations and complexes and concerns become hurdles to the fulfillment of what I need?  Because I deem their requirements more important than my own?  No, I’m not that selfless.  My mind says Fuck off, and it switches off that emotional switch that makes me go to them.  And even then, I am the one who hurts.

This is not what Allah made me for.  I know it.  And I know what I need to do.  Except that for someone who claims to be brave, I am a pitiful coward.  I know what I need to do, will break most, if not all the bonds that tie me to people because then I will no longer be the one they want.  But a part of me is looking forward to saying ENOUGH!  A part of me is waiting for me…

(….To be continued)