If the word could be my middle name, that would certainly fit the role.
Today, I woke up feeling like my heart just got tied up by a string. I can still breathe, but it doesn’t feel effortless.
When you have anxiety every now and then, you’d know that sometimes these things do happen. You wake up, from an adequate amount of sleep, expecting to feel just okay, but didn’t. Although it’s disappointing, just like what people like to say, it’s not very well surprising.
Time to time, I always like to find something new in my life. Something more exciting. Something to look up to. Maybe because I have been through battles with myself, throughout my juvenile years, I am used to trying to break a boundary down. It makes me feel restless, and could send me into a freak-crazy impulsive mode sometimes. Or, at least, that’s the theory I’ve come up after twenty-one years of observing and contemplating about myself. (I know, some people are very blessed to be selfless, but I unfortunately am not one of them.)
That, combined with anxiety, is really tough to manage. It might look like I am blaming my own attitude towards something other than myself, but honestly, sometimes I do feel like I am going auto-pilot when controlling my own mind. Sometimes, I look back to the things I did and didn’t know why I did it. I just wanted to. And sometimes I would regret things, but I already dislike a shit-ton part of myself, that I have long ago decided that I wouldn’t want to regret anything that happened in my life. Aligned to what most people would believe: the things you did yesterday, brought you to the moment that you are now.
However, this morning, I feel like the reason my heart struggled to cooperate with my lungs are because the things that happened in the past. It’s not about something deep, like family, finance, nor education. It is only because of a small thing that I had impulsively done. Two years ago, to be exact. I’ve been bearing this guilt for two years now, repeatedly apologized to the person, but I somehow couldn’t get it out of my head.
Sounds incredibly dramatic, doesn’t it?
Well, counter-intuitive to people’s believe where I am an easy-to-let-go impulsive person, sometimes I do feel this very much attached to the past. Especially when it felt very memorable, and suddenly went wrong. I have two occasions in my life where I feel this way. First, it was my first love, back in freshman year of high school. I didn’t have to forgive myself for anything back then, but it was one of the most memorable moment of my life, that I didn’t want it to be replaced by another person for nearly two years. Even when I already fell out of love with the person, I just didn’t feel like it was right to replace the memory. (Yes, this is an intricately beautiful way to say: I am not ready for a new relationship because I am a coward)
The second was that moment. I lost a friend, because I acted impulsively. I didn’t lose him as quick as a finger click, but eventually, I lost them. Not sure where we are right now, but —
I have a meeting, and I will continue this if I remember. or if I have the guts. Try counting on the words of a coward.