I Question Everything
Because believing in Santa was silly, but believing blindness can be cured with a little bit of mud and faith, was normal.
My whole reality is up for examination, everything I thought was normal, every emotion, every perspective. Nothing is off limits anymore. Nothing is sacred.
The person I was raised to be is nothing like me, if "I" can be said to have any solid essence at all.
The person I fought to become despite everything, I've let go of, because I'm not the person I remind myself to be if I have to remind myself in the first place. I am merely the idea of a resident inside my curious/sensitive mind, but "I" don't really exist.
The moment I'm not thinking about me, the moment I'm not thinking about how to be and the moment I'm not thinking about my pain or depression, is the moment it doesn't exist, is the moment "I" no longer exist.
Everything I was taught was misconceived by other minds who did not understand our complex reality. But they never taught me that. They never told me about the greatest mystery the universe teases us with, even though it's right in front of our eyes, closer than our eyelids. Instead, they stifled curious promptings with a truncation that wanting something to be true really bad (faith), was as far as we can explore—because room for questions means a worthless answer (to my family). Instead, I was taught to put my fingers in my ears and delude myself to believe that there are no questions, so that in that, anything I would believe would necessarily be true to me. Then they made sure I believed the "right" thing [because being born an atheist was not what God intended?], and they indoctrinated me while my mind was defenseless—while I was suffocated under their discipline, my lungs forced me to inhale the Kool Aid they were intent on pouring down my throat. And they poured that poison to the brim, to the max, because they didn't trust me to be able to come to the conclusion they wanted me to if they let me take a look at reality for myself.
The people I've trusted most, have told me the most lies. Truth will never be taken for granted again, and it will never be a label I'll intentionally use to describe what appears to make sense to me.
Here's to a life of questions, and to a life of feelings that will no longer make me "too sensitive." Time to climb from the womb of parental guidance. Time to climb from the womb of peer acceptance. Time to climb from the womb of self-worth. Time to open my eyes for the first time in my life.
My whole reality is up for examination, everything I thought was normal, every emotion, every perspective. Nothing is off limits anymore. Nothing is sacred.
The person I was raised to be is nothing like me, if "I" can be said to have any solid essence at all.
The person I fought to become despite everything, I've let go of, because I'm not the person I remind myself to be if I have to remind myself in the first place. I am merely the idea of a resident inside my curious/sensitive mind, but "I" don't really exist.
The moment I'm not thinking about me, the moment I'm not thinking about how to be and the moment I'm not thinking about my pain or depression, is the moment it doesn't exist, is the moment "I" no longer exist.
Everything I was taught was misconceived by other minds who did not understand our complex reality. But they never taught me that. They never told me about the greatest mystery the universe teases us with, even though it's right in front of our eyes, closer than our eyelids. Instead, they stifled curious promptings with a truncation that wanting something to be true really bad (faith), was as far as we can explore—because room for questions means a worthless answer (to my family). Instead, I was taught to put my fingers in my ears and delude myself to believe that there are no questions, so that in that, anything I would believe would necessarily be true to me. Then they made sure I believed the "right" thing [because being born an atheist was not what God intended?], and they indoctrinated me while my mind was defenseless—while I was suffocated under their discipline, my lungs forced me to inhale the Kool Aid they were intent on pouring down my throat. And they poured that poison to the brim, to the max, because they didn't trust me to be able to come to the conclusion they wanted me to if they let me take a look at reality for myself.
The people I've trusted most, have told me the most lies. Truth will never be taken for granted again, and it will never be a label I'll intentionally use to describe what appears to make sense to me.
Here's to a life of questions, and to a life of feelings that will no longer make me "too sensitive." Time to climb from the womb of parental guidance. Time to climb from the womb of peer acceptance. Time to climb from the womb of self-worth. Time to open my eyes for the first time in my life.
26-30, M