The night I decided to collect the fragments of a wounded soul

In the dark moments of a night, when the inner demons rise from the shadows and drag you down to the bottom of a purgatory of agonies, I asked myself where I was and when I had lost myself. It had been a long time since I felt lost in a strange and stormy world. I had been on the roller coaster of life and for most of the ride I had seen my wagon completely empty. I conceived myself vulnerable, lonely, and abandoned. However, and it is the most difficult thing to recognize, I was the real cause of those negative feelings. Why was it so difficult for me to be in my company? Why did I see the outside as a dangerous environment that made me want to run? At what point had I stopped giving importance to what was in my life because of the illusion of something never realized? So, I looked in the darkness of my memory at a child who felt rejected by the world, a lonely young man afraid to be himself and a disillusioned adult, who lost more and more of his energy. Different stages of an existence converged on a couple of concerns that I think we all have felt at some point in our lives.

That night I decided to embrace those insecurities and I felt how each of them entered my body like the smoke of an incense spreading through a closed room. It was difficult to process them all at once because they made me want to find a quick way out. Then, memories in which I did not felt so empty came to my mind, they transported me to those accompanied afternoons in which everything felt so calm and warm, but it no longer made sense to return to those moments. I was alone, and no matter how much I wanted so, that company was gone.

I waited in the dark for myself to really see me, to listen and to explain my abandonment. When I took the first step, I felt my throat ripping out and I broke down in tears at the feelings that evoked. I spoke. I let the words come out to dialogue with each of the emotions that had manifested. Only then I could understand something of what I didn’t want to see.

⸻Why do you do it? ⸻was the claim⸻. Why do you look for someone to look at you for who you are and hope that they decide to stay?

⸻Don't you want it either? ⸻I replied.

⸻What's wrong with being with you? ⸻He continued calmly⸻. Why is it so complicated for you to love me?

⸻It's not that ⸻I tried to defend myself, though I wasn't so sure I was being honest.

Was it possible that I didn't love me? Yes, perhaps there was some truth to my claims. I had been hurting myself for too long. How many times did I remind myself how horrible I was? How many times had I underestimated myself or my work? How long had I been striving to be a good person to others when I treated myself with so much hate and resentment? I realized that I was a hypocrite and all this time the only one who had been responsible for making me unhappy was myself. I had taken the criticism and rejection that I had received as a boy to be the constant reminder of how miserable I must be. To the crises I had faced as an adolescent I had added a little more dynamite and had kept it inside me so it would explode from time to time, plunging me back into depression. Of course, as a result there was that young adult who lost his energy because of carrying on a constant fight with himself.

⸻Forgive me ⸻I told him regretfully⸻. I hadn't wanted to accept it.

And I hugged myself, while tears flowed like rivers from both. I gave myself the warmth I had denied me for so long and I felt a little calmer. I cannot deny that there was still a huge void, there were still sadness and disappointments that wanted to address me with every show of affection. However, I no longer felt that I was as alone as before, and my eyesight could see a little better through the blindfold that I had made for myself. In the roller coaster of life there were different stations, people went up and down, some stayed with me throughout the journey, others were lost in the distance. Nevertheless, the seats around me had never been empty and the only person who truly deserved that place next to me had been myself. It was time to get out of the state I had gotten myself into, it was time for me to help myself pick up the fragments of my wounded soul.