I have always enjoyed writing, and have always been pretty good at it (from what I hear). I enjoy writing deep things that make you feel emotions or think about things. If I am being completely honest, I would describe the category as Tumblr writing. But here is a piece from a while back. Note that I did not write this about myself. This isn't any sort of journal entry of some sort. I am posting this because I enjoy getting criticism. Please leave your thoughts below.
I remember the first time I sat comfortably in my own silence.
It was a short period of silence, I must say, but even so I took breaks occasionally to escape.
Escape myself.
The moments in between those breaks though, those exasperating moments of my own silent presence, were practically eating me alive.
At first.
See, I’m always all over the place. On average, I get about three or four hours of sleep a night (if I’m lucky). Don’t bother telling me that isn’t healthy – I’m fully aware. In fact I have a deep concern that my body may physically give up on me and simple collapse but until that is to happen, the chaotic habits would continue.
“Stop. Drop everything and breathe”, I’ve been told plenty of times. But I didn’t want to.
Funnily, a person (a few different people on separate occasions actually) went so far as to say the following, of course in different forms but the same idea: “You’re a very unemotional person. Clearly, you keep yourself so busy because you want to keep those emotions boxed away; you’re scared of giving yourself quiet time to let it all out”. What a psychoanalysis right?
Right.
And no, I don’t say that with sarcasm. I truly now see that those people were all right in one way or another.
That’s what I realized the day I sat alone. I closed my eyes, blocked off all the noise, and took some deep breaths. I listened to my mind slow down and started listening to my thoughts. The thoughts and feelings I always push aside because I’d be ‘too busy’ for them. At first, I was ready to scream. But then I got used to it.
I got used to myself.
Isn’t that crazy? Being so uncomfortable with your mind that your own presence can irritate you so much?
I realized something though, as my heart rate slowed down and my head stopped spinning. As my whole body got rid of the burning urge to throw and break things, to scream – I realized that I matter and I owed it to myself to love myself more.
I truly believe that progression is a beautiful thing. I, as well as many others I hope, are always concerned about progression as a society – equal rights and the sort.
However, I learned that progression within myself was more beautiful. I had to take care of myself, make time for myself, stop thinking I could do everything on my own, and simply let out the thoughts. Let out the feelings! Goodness, how those pesky feelings got everywhere that day. Believe me when I say that it felt nothing short of amazing and was absolutely liberating.
Besides, how could you change the world if you can’t change yourself first right?
It’s loud in this big head of mine. And I’m finally okay with that. And I hope that you are as well.
Because it’s true that the scariest monsters are in our heads and I for one refuse to give that monster any more fuel. The longer it takes to realize this and the longer it takes to make this happen, the more it’ll be appreciated when it’s done. The monster might even thank you, I’m sure he’s ready to find a new home.
I remember the first time I sat comfortably in my own silence.
It was a short period of silence, I must say, but even so I took breaks occasionally to escape.
Escape myself.
The moments in between those breaks though, those exasperating moments of my own silent presence, were practically eating me alive.
At first.
See, I’m always all over the place. On average, I get about three or four hours of sleep a night (if I’m lucky). Don’t bother telling me that isn’t healthy – I’m fully aware. In fact I have a deep concern that my body may physically give up on me and simple collapse but until that is to happen, the chaotic habits would continue.
“Stop. Drop everything and breathe”, I’ve been told plenty of times. But I didn’t want to.
Funnily, a person (a few different people on separate occasions actually) went so far as to say the following, of course in different forms but the same idea: “You’re a very unemotional person. Clearly, you keep yourself so busy because you want to keep those emotions boxed away; you’re scared of giving yourself quiet time to let it all out”. What a psychoanalysis right?
Right.
And no, I don’t say that with sarcasm. I truly now see that those people were all right in one way or another.
That’s what I realized the day I sat alone. I closed my eyes, blocked off all the noise, and took some deep breaths. I listened to my mind slow down and started listening to my thoughts. The thoughts and feelings I always push aside because I’d be ‘too busy’ for them. At first, I was ready to scream. But then I got used to it.
I got used to myself.
Isn’t that crazy? Being so uncomfortable with your mind that your own presence can irritate you so much?
I realized something though, as my heart rate slowed down and my head stopped spinning. As my whole body got rid of the burning urge to throw and break things, to scream – I realized that I matter and I owed it to myself to love myself more.
I truly believe that progression is a beautiful thing. I, as well as many others I hope, are always concerned about progression as a society – equal rights and the sort.
However, I learned that progression within myself was more beautiful. I had to take care of myself, make time for myself, stop thinking I could do everything on my own, and simply let out the thoughts. Let out the feelings! Goodness, how those pesky feelings got everywhere that day. Believe me when I say that it felt nothing short of amazing and was absolutely liberating.
Besides, how could you change the world if you can’t change yourself first right?
It’s loud in this big head of mine. And I’m finally okay with that. And I hope that you are as well.
Because it’s true that the scariest monsters are in our heads and I for one refuse to give that monster any more fuel. The longer it takes to realize this and the longer it takes to make this happen, the more it’ll be appreciated when it’s done. The monster might even thank you, I’m sure he’s ready to find a new home.