To my blessed heart, I haven\’t changed at all. I am still the same. The same anxieties. The same perspective. But I remember him saying that I am better now.
I disagree.
We often look at the world through different colored spectacles and it\’s what we make of it. I sometimes see life through my rose-colored lens, thinking life is so great and that it couldn\’t be any better. At the same time, life is tinted in blue–a depressive moment. I change these lens every day, seeing life as defined by my thoughts, my emotions and the people I am surrounded with. And the moments.
It hurts, you know.
Even though a few days have passed since he and I had a conversation…about me, the wounds it opened still festers. I couldn\’t help but feel weak at the moment when he bought my faults to consciousness. Yes, I do hide them away, trying to overcome them. I don\’t think about it. I often think how I could better myself rather than staring the weaknesses in the eye, trying to scare them away.
They aren\’t monsters, but they are scars from emotional turmoils I went through. Let it heal. Let\’s not reopen old wounds.
So I play the song he sent me. Twice. The one where he sings about the last year, the troubles he goes through, and overcoming it. Calling for hope. He told me during the conversation that he was happy. I countered his happiness by saying that it was a perspective. The lens we choose to wear.
It\’s not full-blown ignorance.
To be touched is a way we want to feel something.
\”You\’re disconnected,\” he said.
All I heard was that I couldn\’t reach out to people and that what I had tried so hard for the last several years in reinventing myself was only a facade. I haven\’t changed. I am detached and I can\’t touch. I can\’t touch people, I heard.