I Lived In A Lie Most Of My Life
I thought I was given a second chance. I was wrong. I believed I was free from my shackles. Seven years ago, I lost my ability to feel emotion. This lasted for two whole years. During that time, I learned how to fake what I should’ve felt.
Only now do I realize that most likely… I never stopped pretending. I just got good enough to fool myself. I thought I could be like you. Feel, like you.
But I am not that kind of a man. I am far less than a man. I have no heart, I have no soul. Just a hole. I had my doubts before. When my great-grandmother died some two years ago, I was devastated. But not because I was in pain from my loss – I felt devastated because I couldn’t feel sad. At the time, I felt nothing but shame and guilt.
I made myself forget that. I wouldn’t have been able to go on living knowing otherwise.
Where am I going with this story?
Yesterday, my grandfather from the US was rushed in ER after a massive stroke. The doctors there said that it was the worst case they’ve seen in many years. When they put him in CAT scan, the entire left side of his brain was invisible under the blood. An operation was deemed nearly impossible. The best case scenario would have been to live out the remainder of his years as a vegetable. He wouldn’t have been able to see or hear anyone. He would have been completely paralyzed. Caged inside what was left of his mind.
Today, he passed away. He was the man I looked up throughout my entire life. A proud man. A kind man. A man that loved life. He and his sister were war orphans, back from WW2. Somehow, he managed to finish school. He became a history teacher. He even worked as a principal for a while. When he married my grandmother, he took in my mom and loved her as if she was his own child. And in every single way imaginable, other than blood, that is exactly what she was. And when my siblings and I were born, he loved us with all his heart.
Everybody is devastated by his death. Just a few days ago, we talked to him and our grandmother over Skype. He seemed like his old plucky eighty-four year old self. It’s actually ironic, in a way. Everyone, himself included, believed that it would be his heart that would fail him. He already had several surgeries. But throughout yesterday, his heart kept beating strong.
People like me shouldn’t be allowed to live. Because do you know what I feel, right now? I feel guilt. And I feel shame. Because I loved him so much. And now I feel nothing. I want to die. I want to take my life right now. I don’t have a heart. I don’t have a soul. I can’t be saved.
But my life isn’t my own. I made a promise. Many promises, and yet, all are the same.
“I will always be here for you.”
Why couldn’t I keep my big mouth shut…?
I won’t break my promise. I won’t break any of them. I can’t be saved. But maybe I can still help the ones I care about. I have already failed myself. I can’t fail you as well.
Only now do I realize that most likely… I never stopped pretending. I just got good enough to fool myself. I thought I could be like you. Feel, like you.
But I am not that kind of a man. I am far less than a man. I have no heart, I have no soul. Just a hole. I had my doubts before. When my great-grandmother died some two years ago, I was devastated. But not because I was in pain from my loss – I felt devastated because I couldn’t feel sad. At the time, I felt nothing but shame and guilt.
I made myself forget that. I wouldn’t have been able to go on living knowing otherwise.
Where am I going with this story?
Yesterday, my grandfather from the US was rushed in ER after a massive stroke. The doctors there said that it was the worst case they’ve seen in many years. When they put him in CAT scan, the entire left side of his brain was invisible under the blood. An operation was deemed nearly impossible. The best case scenario would have been to live out the remainder of his years as a vegetable. He wouldn’t have been able to see or hear anyone. He would have been completely paralyzed. Caged inside what was left of his mind.
Today, he passed away. He was the man I looked up throughout my entire life. A proud man. A kind man. A man that loved life. He and his sister were war orphans, back from WW2. Somehow, he managed to finish school. He became a history teacher. He even worked as a principal for a while. When he married my grandmother, he took in my mom and loved her as if she was his own child. And in every single way imaginable, other than blood, that is exactly what she was. And when my siblings and I were born, he loved us with all his heart.
Everybody is devastated by his death. Just a few days ago, we talked to him and our grandmother over Skype. He seemed like his old plucky eighty-four year old self. It’s actually ironic, in a way. Everyone, himself included, believed that it would be his heart that would fail him. He already had several surgeries. But throughout yesterday, his heart kept beating strong.
People like me shouldn’t be allowed to live. Because do you know what I feel, right now? I feel guilt. And I feel shame. Because I loved him so much. And now I feel nothing. I want to die. I want to take my life right now. I don’t have a heart. I don’t have a soul. I can’t be saved.
But my life isn’t my own. I made a promise. Many promises, and yet, all are the same.
“I will always be here for you.”
Why couldn’t I keep my big mouth shut…?
I won’t break my promise. I won’t break any of them. I can’t be saved. But maybe I can still help the ones I care about. I have already failed myself. I can’t fail you as well.
31-35, M
