internal galaxy
my own little mess
These past few weeks I’ve been stuck in an eternal turmoil, where I cannot seem to do the things I want to do and, at the same time, I can’t spend any of the time I have peacefully. It’s like my brain is a cat with a paw perpetually pressing the U key; in a state of constant buffering, a canvas with only one dot on it but that feels so, so busy, it makes my mind spin.
A voice within sings of all the lights I’m not chasing, the roads I’m not crossing, the time I’m not spending, or not enjoying, or living to the fullest; just wasting away. Or maybe it’s not a voice, but rather a really heavy silence, one you can hear. This gap, full of opportunities of what I could or should be doing, becoming. I can never grasp the full size, but I can sense it’s deep, but alas, I jump over this wheel with no escape, with no safety rope, only to feel just as trapped.
It’s the worst of it all, that by tuning it out, it doesn’t make it easier. That telling myself to not listen to those what ifs, because they will always exist, regardless of the situation any of us live, regardless of what the future as in store for us; because they are out of our reach; because they are not real until… until what? See, I’m unhealthily addicted and poisoning myself with what ifs. I can’t stop obsessing over the opportunity cost of all the choices I’m making, and the responsibility that comes along with them, the consequences — mostly the negative ones.
Is this what regret tastes like? Sand, wasted potential and a lack of satisfaction? When I was younger, I’d claim I had no regrets. why? Because every step I took led me here, and it could always be worse, and, with all things considered, I did what I could, what I thought…best. Even if I wasn’t fully happy, I never paid enough attention to the multi, infinite possibilities because at the end of the day, they were just that, a collection of likelihoods. The best example I can give you comes from experience: when I picked my high school course, at 15, I had so much rage, and I just knew, from the bottom of my heart, that I would be suffering less if I was studying something else. At 18, when I finished the 3 years of said high school, I no longer believed that. Because yes, the road would be different, but it would still have bumps and curves. A different kind of hurting. It’s bittersweet, but trouble follows us whenever we go. That is the thought that used to strip away the what ifs of all their power.
But does it work now? It calms the heart, but I still fear the steady heartbeat of fear that I’ll keep feeling this way, committing the same mistakes. Why are we so obsessed with the lack of flaws?
I’ve had a thought in my mind for a while: part of living is dealing with the same, old problems, time and time and time again. When you think you’ve found your way, surprise! Struggle is a shapeshifting beast. And I keep wondering if this isn’t a bug in the system, if it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Why would we exist… to suffer? To not reach some sort of potential?
It takes a lot of resilience, patience and strength to get up when you get knocked out by the same problem over and over again. I remember being younger and having instances where I wouldn’t succeeded at certain math problems the first or second, sometimes even the third time, and I’d get called out for it, and the shame was so immense I’d be teary eyed, staring at my page, feeling like a looser, holding back from crying and making everything worse. I never understood those that found math or chemistry or any subject that took a lot of trial and error to succeeded at rewarding and stimulating, maybe not exactly because I spent so much time with failure — they did as well —, but rather because the humiliation was bigger than the triumph. The victories felt minuscule, microscopical.
I think that’s part of the reason why I write a lot: so I can actually have a record, something to remind me of both good and bad, a clearer sense of what I want, and give my small victories the bright spotlight they deserve. Too bad I don’t have the habit of reading my own stuff much, even if it could possibly help along the way. It’s like a tug of war between ‘I know it helps.’ and ‘I know it will take effort.’. Between wanting and liking. And, funnily enough, did you know our brain struggles to connect its wanting and liking parts? That it is designed to seek after easy, ready-to-go rewards? The way I see it, it’s all about avoiding pain, and commitment to trying even when you fail continuously in this context, may just be the promise of eternal suffering. Our hearts want to shoot for the stars, but our brains would rather shoot themselves in the foot.
You know, in the end, it really is all about the suffering you have to choose, and how you’ll make something out of it. Yes, yes, this is my pessimistic old self talking, but, let’s face it: there won’t ever exist one easy way out, or a shortcut, and when they do happen to be there, we probably won’t be brave enough to go after it. So I’ll say this: let’s savour the effort, the battle in all its glory, seeing the difficulty and pain as not the process, but part of the process, and consciously remember not just the big map with the lanes that lead nowhere, but the picture drawn out of the passion of our hearts and strength of our beings that led us this far. That is an incredibly cheesy and unnecessarily lengthy way to say: times are though, you’re hurting, it might not be easy all the time, so make sure to remember the good parts of why you do what you do. You study because finishing a unit, a page of notes, a block of exercises, gives you sense of accomplishment, that you’re closer to knowing better. You vacuum and clean your wardrobe and air out your room because you like a clean space. You wake up early and read and talk to your friends even if it’s hard work because you love it, love them.
All the parts that make it worth it in this big, big galaxy. Don’t give more space to the pain, it has plenty of it already.
Thank you for reading delicate this week. Night falls earlier each day as the weather gets colder, so make sure you always bring a coat with you and an umbrella for the rain.
delicacies of the week
This song feels like something early The Lumineers could’ve released: acoustic and laid back, serene. I love how even the version on the album has all the sounds of the village in the background, they aren’t exclusive of the music video - the children laughing and playing football, the chickens cackling, the grasshoppers chirping. It feels magical, like waking up from a nightmare to the comfort of your bed.
‘You Can’t Always Want What You Like’, an episode from one of the mental health/therapy-ish based podcasts I sometimes listen to. Some ideas are present in today’s letter, and although it is a 40 minutes length episode, if you need some background noise as you exercise or do chores around the house, or just happen to be curious, maybe check this one out. Very much worth it.
‘I don’t want to lose’ poem from Mary Oliver. I have one of her novels in my tablet, and I ought to check it fully one day — although I don’t really know how to read a poetry book properly…
SONGS OF THE WEEK: パレード by MIZ, hug me tight by heo hoy kyung and in a good way by faye webster || delicate’s spotify playlist!
i LOVEEEE THE HAPPINESS LAB!! loved this one, especially: “let’s savour the effort, the battle in all its glory, seeing the difficulty and pain as not the process, but part of the process, and consciously remember not just the big map with the lanes that lead nowhere, but the picture drawn out of the passion of our hearts and strength of our beings that led us this far.”