I had a little moment this evening. Other than pouring my heart out to complete strangers (which are you, you and you my dear readers), I think the only other person whom I’ve released my innermost feelings to, is X. I think it’s kinda cathartic to purge all emotions to people who don’t know you, but yet know you because you have no filter online. To X, I’m not sure why I do it either, but it feels like some sort of therapy because he’s such a great listener and provides such empathetic insights. To be honest, not even my parents or siblings know completely the things I talk about here.
But tonight, I don’t know why I let my vulnerability show. Was just having some drinks with my BFFAE (Best Friend Forever And Ever), and suddenly, the morbid topic of mortality came up. I’m very practical with the number of years I may potentially have because the statistics are against me no matter which angle you look at it from. It’s not that I’m gunning for sympathy or whatever shit, but years and years of research do not lie. There may be outliers, but come on, how many of them are lucky enough to fall out of the radar?
So we were just talking about it as I usually do with other people when this topic comes up, and suddenly, I felt so sad that I may be soon (in the near future) be part of that number. And then I started tearing. In a freaking bar. People looking at us must have thought that he initiated a break up or something lol, because I was dabbing my eyes. And I couldn’t stop feeling sorry for myself. But the worst part was having to come home and revert to being my cheery, mad cap self. And just like in the dramas, I did an ugly cry (no need to look in the mirror, I’m very sure it was ugly with a scrunched up face and all) while showering because the running water would muffle my stifled sobs and hopefully wash all my dramatic tears away.
I deduce that one reason I put up such a front in front (no pun intended) of others is because I’m independent. Or rather, I have trained myself to be. And that’s also the persona that I present myself to other people because I don’t want anyone to see me as weak. But it’s so difficult sometimes. This must have suppressed for some time now because why else would I let my BFFAE see me cry? I’ve known him for 19 years and I’m sure as hell he has never seen me cry. Not when I was first diagnosed and hospitalised all those years ago. Not when I told him I might go blind in the future. Not even when I told him all about X. Why now?
I don’t have any answers to be honest, but what I realise is how difficult it can be trying to be “strong” or “independent” or “positive” when all I really want, or need, at the end of the day is someone to give me a big, tight hug. A hug so strong that it can piece my broken insides together again.