Chapter 3: Transitions
The last two chapters were vague: bringing you into areas of my life, signaling at my trapped inner child & the constant fight between my dualistic personality. Within both chapters, anxiety and restraint were predominant characters.
This chapter serves as a transitionary chapter. A space which will serve as the bridge between my inner complexities and an external light. But that’s all I’ll say about that (for now).
The textbook definition of a transition is “the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another.” This idea of transitions is also quite vague, I know. But trust me, I have a point to all this madness 😂. Transitions play such a vital role in our life. We’re constantly moving from one mood to another, to one experience to another, and most importantly one phase of life to another.
For me, I’m always in transition because I’m quite honestly scared of any final outcome. I crave the journey: the drive to the destination, the flight to another land, the search for new opportunities.
Transitions also play a vital role in a story, they navigate a thought, event, or idea and channel it into something new.
Half the time, as I move throughout my day, I feel such a weight on my shoulders; sucking away the calm of these moments. When I look around, I feel like we’re all living in a simulation and we’re accustomed to some sort of ABSURD reality.
I see it all the time; suits and ties walking like they own the world, hiding behind money while their truths rot beneath the surface.
On the other hand, the so called insane, erratic, eccentric people of this world that are singers, dancers, musicians, poets, writers & so much more - feel less ugly and wayy more sane. The musicians playing in the NYC subway platforms, seem much more in touch with reality than any individual wearing a suit.
I feel like this is because those who engage in deep, meaningful artistic expression understand life as a story. A story that needs patience & space to develop. As well as perseverance, balance, and structure to grow into something beautiful. They treat life almost like a story knowing that each chapter builds on its own, isolated in experience but connected to another through one central vision.
People say stories are powerful, as they encapsulate so many emotions and human experiences. I feel like the more we deny our stories of uncomfortable truths; the more we dig ourselves into a deeper pit of disassociated living.
On a more positive note: maybe, just maybe, in embracing my transitions and the stories they hold, I’ll finally be able to find that light I’ve only ever hinted at. The one that lives just beyond the chaos; waiting patiently, like a sunrise after a sleepless night.
Chapter 2: Duality
If you observe me from a distance, I am always lost in my own thought. Restless, yes. Hyper at times, yes. It feels like my brain goes in overdrive and I’m moving through a trance. Saying yes to everything, until….. the trance wears off and the intensity of my so called ‘duality’ is felt. Maybe this is just the human experience? Does everyone feel this unsettled at all times?
These extremities make me feel as if I cannot get myself to do anything. At times, I want to hide away as I don’t even have the energy to do the simplest of things. This can last for days at a time or is easily broken by random erratic shifts; a constant push & pull. I don’t know how to act, how to behave, carry myself, or really do anything. Everything feels like a facade & I’m just a blob of nothing. They say life shouldn’t be taken so seriously; but how is that even possible when it feels so serious?
I can’t escape this feeling of impending doom. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere and maybe it would be better if I just disappeared. How do people keep going? I am extremely fragile. I mask myself with rigidity and stubbornness, which feels like my only defense mechanism. But on the inside, I’m just a fragile flower, seeking a safe space; crumbling and withering from the harsh winds that shake my core.
I believe it’s about finding the beauty in the hardest of places, but what if I already found it? What do I do then?
I see the beauty and I want to engulf myself within its tight embrace, but my path is hazy. Almost as if I’ve glued myself on the bridge between reality and fantasy. I want to run as fast as my legs can take me but my feet feel stuck. I’m not able to move. The anxiety builds up, I feel that horrible feeling resonating one of a panic attack, that I need to get out of here, that utter frustration of not being able to run. The adrenaline builds up and I’m sweating. I want to run into the beauty of the land I see before me, why are my legs not moving? I feel like I'm being pulled away into reality, but I am trying to run. I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve been running for so long, but this whole time was it a delusion? Was I never running? So I stand, between both worlds, unable to fully turn back and unable to run into the beauty.
They say do or die. But I’m just stuck on the ‘or.’ Neither here nor there. Invisible and unfortunately therefore easily forgotten to both worlds.
Welcome to the First Chapter!
Starting something new often feels like stepping into the unknown, but it's also about uncovering parts of ourselves that we might have hidden. This blog is my space to reflect, to express, and to let pieces of my mind and soul come to light.
To begin, I want to share something deeply personal, a poem I wrote a few years ago. It’s not just words on a page; it’s a glimpse into the internal struggle of holding onto things you can’t quite let go of. It's about the parts of me I try to forget, and the ones I’ve tried to protect for years.
The One Within
No matter where I go or what I do
The one within me feels left out
She has an exuberant personality
She jumps when she laughs, shrieks when she cries, and fights back at me when she's infuriated
Constantly in search for my attention
Little does she know, that I’ve trapped her
There is no way for her to get out
No matter how much she jumps, yells, or screams
she cannot escape
She resides in me underneath all the suffocating layers of grief,
which would probably take years to chip away at
She thinks of me as evil
I might be, but that’s okay - she’s too naive for this world
This world where pain eats me alive
Pain that enters my mouth and wraps its way around my entire being
Feeling the bitterness on the tip of my tongue, my insides shrivel; it enters but never leaves
Rather I succumb to it so that she can doesn’t have to
because I love her more than anything
I find her in everything I do, despite the urge to forget about her
The twinkle in her eyes
Those chubby cheeks and pigtails
And of course that bright smile
But enough of all of that
Because she is me but I will never be her.
I post this first because it’s the core of who I am; a constant push and pull between who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. It's a reminder of the journey, the layers, and how we all carry parts of ourselves that are not easily seen.
Thank you for reading and stepping into my world.
This is just the beginning!