On the Whole

I’m finding it extremely hard to reconcile.

I am torn between a myriad of conflicting selves, the cacophony of voices that fill the auditorium of my mind. They all pull this way and that. So much is at stake – pride and principles. They all seemed to emerge at once, shouting over each other, layer atop layer, clamouring to be heard -

The me that simply wants to be surrounded by people she can call friends on her 21st.

The me that seeks to achieve; that derives deep satisfaction from crafting an argument – feeling the words flow from my fingertips, and the sentences taking frame in my head. I strive for no less than excellence.

The me that is with you. Bright-eyed and eager, brimming with wonder and anticipation. I wonder what it would be like if I engaged every day and every person with this intensity and – Lapping up every moment in the glory of its fullness, documenting it in memories. And it is sad that I fail to realize, that the more I archive, the deeper I drive the knife into the wound.

The me that still wants to save the world. Friend, counselor, confidante, psychologist. I still wrestle with that picture. I need compassion and empathy as second nature, not as an afterthought. I take that back, I think I need to be love.

The me that longs to be Your child, to know You – to sit at Your feet, to wait upon the Lord, to experience the intensity of a first love. A part of me longs to earnestly learn what it means to truly worship, to sing songs of your salvation, to proclaim freedom . Teach me.

The me that struggles to fulfill the duties of a daughter, to rise above the pressures that have been bestowed upon the first-born. More so, something in me needs to move beyond obligation and to dig deep again, return to my roots, remember where I came from… to be grateful again.

The me that sorely wants to lash out at the world. To scream against the unfairness of it all and cry bitterly over the injustice that has been doled out to me. I wish I had the strength to shut out the noise and wall myself up. I used to take pride in standing alone.

It has come to a point where I can no longer find reason behind action. And really, it comes down to one very simple question:

Why?

Why do I go, knowing that I will leave? Why do I try, so damn, freaking hard for something that I can never get… maybe something I don’t even really want.

I will never fit in. I will never have fun. That will never be my scene. This is far from the best for me.

Will this ever feel like home?

Tonight, the bite of the cold brought comfort and freshness, and the tears brought shame instead of relief. I hear words echoing from the past, the rustle of ink-blotted pages and the smell of old things stored away and forgotten – journal entries, ad hoc messages scribbled under the influence of pure emotion, all those incoherent speeches that I’ve muttered in my head.

All these recurring themes.

I need to integrate, to choose a path and stick to it – taking the step forward and never looking back. One foot in front of the other, on and on and on; till the next thing stops me in my tracks.