july 10th, 2021
growing up, i thought of myself as a mystery or a riddle that had to be solved. it made me feel valued and cool and explained why i felt different or felt like i didn't belong.
people that met me also thought i was mysterious and it drew them closer to me. it made them want to learn more about me.
but then, person after person, each one would eventually get tired and leave my life.
the mystery is that there is no mystery. all this time, it was just me struggling with problems i could never name or identify.
always feeling like i need to win people over or they'll leave me. feeling like i need to sacrifice my own needs to avoid being alone. always so aware of being... different.
but now that i know there are words to describe my struggles, why do i feel sad?
why does it feel like a part of my journey has come to an end? why do i miss the mystery?
maybe it's because sometimes, not knowing is easier than knowing and having to face the truth. because knowing what's wrong means i have to find solutions instead of just ignoring myself like i did for all these years.
and maybe i'm just looking for another excuse to avoid facing the truth again.
the truth is... i'm not perfect. i never was.
YOU ARE READING
arcane magic
Short Storya book of poetic ramblings, where words have the power to make us feel both lost and found all at once. an exploration of what it means to be alive and feel things and why we're here.
