I'm sorry I ran upstairs and left you behind, I was feeling rather overwhelmed and attacked for in my head is a war you are unaware is being waged and barely won. I needed to scream alone and in complete isolation. Scream internally, for screaming out loud is far too piercing, too uncomfortable, intolerable. I am sorry you took offence, maybe it is so I didn't want your company, I am sorry it is this way for us. It’s sad you decide to ultimately dislike, distrust and put no time into understanding the western attitude, an attitude I have come to grow and slowly devour and make my own performance. Take in their love of the bleak, the absurd and the incontrollable. Their wish to understand the mental health of the masses, no they aren't made up and in fact threaten your spawn with vivid flashes at night and in the middle of the day with all the force it has, most obvious in crowds.
How does one go about explaining the looming darkness that hovers above, the dark alleys of depression and anxiety, adhd or aspd, to someone who puts all of their unwavering and immovable faith in God and looks to nothing else to help quench their existential crises or their paranoia surrounding the future. To someone who knows nobody that has gone through the battle, the ongoing battle we fear to speak of too loudly. Someone who has never been educated or confronted by the discussion because the country in which they were born and raised in is stricken with poverty and corruption, leaving no room for emotional or real spiritual journeys. It is exhausting being around such isolated people that stay within their rigid and unhelpful forms, that refuse to change or transform. It is sad to see.
It’s strange, it is rather comforting and pleasant to know that I got out, that I was set free from what could have been a horrible, stifled life. However, it still is my reality that I now flow in-between two opposing worlds with different smells, different voices and widely different places of comfort, as every time I step foot in the country I must still call home, I see a glimpse of who I could have become. It frightens me, makes me feel deeply unsettled. It’s beautiful and tragic. Freedom is in reach, it is there and I can feel it in my toes, holding on in itself is a practice in self growth. Not yielding to the heavy mischief of dry, summer air is in itself already something I hold fondly.