Repair.Is.Needed

So.

It happens that I am going through a period of great unhappiness and loneliness right now. All my life, I’ve heard people speak of finding themselves in the acute pain of lonesomeness, bankrupt both in spirit and body and I never understood what they meant. To loose. To have lost. To be lonely. I used to believe these visitations of darkness lasted only a few minutes or hours, or that these saddened and lonely people, in between bouts of lonesomeness, were occupied , as we all think, with the useful presence of acquaintances? Or the useful monotony of happiness?

But really, as I have come to discover, happiness is nothing but a lucky ice cube that your carry in your head. It takes all your cunning to hang on to it. To keep it solid, but once it melts, you have to move on, try to freeze it back, and wait for it to thaw.

I kinda have a new life. The beginning of this year, I decided to count my blessings. I was too much of a fucking pessimist, I thought at the time, and that I had a billion and one things to be thankful for..

But so I thought.

And I discovered, that the only thing I can be truly be thankful for is my writing. Or tweeting? Or talking?

Or maybe, thinking? Right now, most of what I do comes devoid of any human interaction. I made a conscious effort last year, to stop partying, drinking and smoking (which by the time you will be reading this, would be a thing of my fucking past), and all I do is go to classes, go back to my pad, stare and sleep. Thing is, I have so many people I randomly talk to, but you know that wall? That limit to which you can open you mouth to say certain things to people without “coding”? Yeah. That’s what exactly keeps me lonely.

But then, I’m not interested, the way some people are, in being sad. I’ve had a look, and there is absolutely fucking nothing down that road. I used to reply to people who saw me thinking in the past few days: I’m thinking about my happiness and my unhappiness. The nakedness of that train of thought, leads to a huge void, that can never be filled. But what makes me happy? What lifts my mood?

Nothing.

Why, because nothing can amaze me anymore. Nothing is new. Nothing is special. Nothing is… Nothing IS.

But then, the rhythm of typing and thinking seems to calm me down. Seems to soothe me. Who would have thought that this old habit of mine would become a strategy for maintaining a semblance of an ongoing life, and un-asked for gift? On days when I exactly don’t know which foot to put in front of the other, I can type my way to becoming a conscious being.

I began moving out of my dungeon today. Nothing feels as good as this. Although I know the roughness of the journey that awaits me, the brusque feeling of fear and freedom after rebellion is sweet. I am thirsty, but I don't want to get a drink, I simply don't want to cross the path of the self consumed self victimizing monster that has taken over your most beloved once.. When he's in these slumps he forgets that he isn't the only one affected by this fuck up.

Do you know what it feels like to have your entire life, your entire personality be defined by your mother/father's romantic mistakes? It is the most belittling feeling on this earth, to be summarized in one small and jaded action, time and time again. People who know me see me and think "He'd be normal if his family was".

But my pain is forgotten, because I choose to forget it, I keep myself happy, not only for myself, but for the people around me, because after all smile's are contagious, but they're getting harder as the silence wears on. I know this will all be over soon, I know this solitude, this massive wave of loneliness will seem like a faint memory in the life of Femi, but it is my now, and my now is all I know. My now is deep and vast, every feeling amplified, every sound holds meaning, every thought a justification for my misery. Over analytical and morose Femi. The creative genius rears her ugly head. As words flow like poetry through my fingers into this metallic vessel, I sneer at the mundane, I spit on the average.

My throat is so dry. The silence is so loud. And the light isn't bright enough.

And then my thoughts mull over the thought of a person. My thoughts confuse me. Sometimes I see them as a small child that I watch with amusement, he/she looking up at me occasionally seeking encouragement for whichever toy it has created but it mostly ignores me and continues to play in it's own imaginary world. And I sit, on a bench, with a drink and just watch and wait for something to happen.

These past weeks it has brought my attention to the thoughts of a woman, a dear friend, a dear friend I didn't know well before she left, a dear friend who shouldn't have made the cut but for some strange reason did, it continues to bring this woman before me. And I remain seated and look up at her, scrutinize her, scrunch my face and stick my tongue out in aversion at the idea, she kicks my shin, pulls at the knickers of my heart and forces me to stand.

And now I am facing her. A questioning look of skepticism on my countenance. She smiles, and there is a slow flutter in my stomach, weak but strong enough to make me wretch. It is not his own physical being that incites such distaste, it's the whole affair in general.

But then I find that thinking of her makes the silence easier. Cushions my thoughts, paints a smile in my now. Thinking of her helps. Thinking that perhaps she might read this and wonder if I'm writing about her, perhaps she might think I'm being emotional, maybe it'll scare her, if she draws that conclusion she doesn't know me very well. But then again, I might not even be talking about a person, I could be talking about a thing, about an action, about a place, about a certain space on this planet, just something that makes me smile.

Cause that's all I need really. A hug and a smile. That's all I ever need. It's easy to keep me happy, because I keep myself happy, so external forces are rarely needed.

I'm like a self cleaning oven in a way, just press a button and in 20 minutes I'm sparkling.

But today? Today?

Repair is needed.

Finito.