Emotional Drainage

Th answer has been as close t me as i have been entangled in my web of thoughts. It began t dawn on me as soon as i permitted sunlight within th cracks and comfort of my sanctum sanctorum. Th trees in a storm, they don't try t stand up tall and erect. They allow themselves t bend, t be blown w th wind. They discern th power of letting go. But th trees that try so hard t stand up strong and turgid, are eventually th ones that break. Some of us relate letting go t giving up, but sometimes letting go doesn't mean we don't care. It doesn't mean we shut down. Letting go means we stop trying t force outcomes. It is realising that th heart can sometimes be th most potent remedy.

Insanity. It is th taking over of a rational and complete lucid mind by delusion and self-destruction. That is, t lose yourself. I may have questioned myself that one too many times. But how could i have ever lost myself, when it was never really who i was t begin w. So many ways of perceiving things, and pessimism has always been on my side. But just once, this once i reckon a fair judgement t my being. I didn't lose myself, i regained who i was. But buried there is th very irony that drives me crazy - a hatred towards who i have become, t change who i hated t be. Its so foggy. I have gazed at nothing at all for minutes that felt like forever, attempting t piece th puzzles in my mind t help me see clearer. I've cried, and i wish i could cry it all out. Of all th tears i hope would someday be worthy of dissipating th clouds around me. For now, words are. But sometimes it results in what you would get from trying t fix a broken glass. Like walls closing down on you in a dark room and you can't see where you're leading yourself t. But you carry on anyway because you need an escape route, any sort. Because there's nothing left in you t lose. An apt description of my mind possibly a year ago. I managed t escape all th remote places of it, and let go of who i really was, t become who i thought was me. But some things are fixed, some things are flux. Who i really wasn't, was flux. I could think of a million possibilities on how t put this, but sometimes simplicity is th ultimate sophistication. Love saved me. From drowning in th stream of currents i didn't have control over, t reaching a waterfall that would have eventually dropped me t an abyss. I managed t let go of who i really was, but i learnt that it never meant i lost myself. Tagged along w it though was a price. Denial, insecurities and th inability t adapt quickly. Who am i supposed t be? Myself of course, but who am i really? That would leave me w confusion and doubtful of why anyone would wanna understand me. No where near th person i was a year ago, but perhaps im far away from who i was even years ago. T have written this today, would mean it still has a grip on every crevice in my mind, diffusing into every vein in my body. But each day i look upon my physical scars, they don't feel as fresh as they did th day before. And i will let go someday, when life permits me t find solace in doing what i love. But i will let it go, just like th trees that sway in a storm.