a different kind of person

I used to be a different kind of person. I was broke and tired, I was running on pure desperation. My conscience was hidden underneath layers of cold; under layers of sadness that were stale and hard. I didn’t know how to articulate my feelings into words, and besides, no one was there to listen anyway.

I knew right from wrong, but I learned how to make exceptions. I felt ignored by the world, and so I in turn ignored the world. I would walk to into stores, with no money in my pockets, and walk out with stolen goods in my purse. It was easy enough. Grab a box, carefully take off the sticker, and nonchalantly stick it in my bag. My heart would beat so fast, and the sweat would beat down my forehead. It was a rush, a high, and yet I got no joy from it.

I would go back to my apartment, greeting a roommate that had no idea that I wouldn’t be able to pay rent. She didn’t know, because I didn’t tell her. I suppose I could have. I could have sat down next to her, and explained that I was broken. That I had no will left in me, that I was rotting away. That I couldn’t hold down a job. That the world scared me. That people scared me.

But I said none of that.

I entered my bedroom and took out the bottle of random pills. I didn’t even know what they were, I didn’t care. I took one. Two. Three. And when the buzz filled my body, creating the floating heaven, I would empty out my purse.

It was an ugly time. I would steal from anyone. And everyone. Loved ones. Strangers. I would guzzle alcohol and huff on cans before the pain could conquer me.  I tried so hard to run from the truth.

For years, I attempted to be someone else, anyone else. For years. But I never succeeded. I would always find myself, late at night, covered by the weight of suffocating trauma.

Yes, I used to be a different kind of person. Now, I have nothing to filter out my conscience. I am stuck with me. It is painful, unbearable at times, but it is real. It is necessary.

I try to allow myself to feel human, and to accept that I coped how I needed to. I try to make peace with myself. And I carry on. And I try to do better.

For what else can one do?

11 thoughts on “a different kind of person

  1. I guess the past never really goes away, especially if it were such heartbreaking and painful.
    There is nothing to do about it but to move on, day by day, the way you can.
    In the end, it made you who you are now.
    And I think you are pretty amazing.
    Thank you for writing this.

  2. You will prevail, but this is something through which you must navigate. The past will eventually fade. You will accept what you did in the past and vow to do better. You will do all this because you are awesome.

  3. I think that’s all we can do. I really admire your insight, you bring to light so many things that I feel deep down inside but can’t say. You’re way more stronger and smarter than you realize.


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s