Everything I Never Say ✓

[ eleven ]

Eleven

× × ×

Fifteen was a funny age.

I mean, I remember having my O Level exams around the corner, having applied for the session that took place during mid May to early June. The previous academic years had been pandemonium in my head and coiled knots in my stomach.

But then, suddenly, I was fifteen, in fifth form, about to do my O-Levels at the end of that school year, and there was this sort of indifference that I began to carry with me.

It's not that I no longer gave a damn about getting through them; I just didn't feel the panic, which was funny because all throughout last year, I thought fifth form would be the worst. That it'd be when the stress got to me and I'd cave, turn into one of those students with dark circles under my eyes and muttering formulae under my breath every three seconds.

Indifferent. That was what I became towards the upcoming examination. Because that's what indifference is; the opposite of feeling.

But by then, I had sort of learnt my way around adapting an indifferent attitude towards things that I didn't want to deal with. In other words, to put it simply, I became good at running. I, who was brave and gave her all at confrontations, became good at running away.

It was kind of sad.

But I also didn't mind it. Because truth be told, it felt good. That getaway car. An escape route.

Actually, I remember feeling beyond pleased with myself — because yes, I'd heard about how people became numb to certain things and was good at building walls, and the thought of that fascinated me but I never once knew how that worked — so once I did learn, it felt great. It was easy. It is easy.

Indifference.

One word. A lifetime of keeping feelings at bay. An endless process of building walls, adding another layer of cement, and then placing bricks atop it.

Indifference.

A brief escape. Bliss in the short run, choas in the long run.

Indifference.

A moment of nothingness for an infinity of pain.

If only I knew then what I know now — that building walls and keeping emotions at bay only allows those feelings to continue piling up until your walls can't hold them back anymore and it comes crashing into your existence like a wrecking ball severed from it's strings.

Because that's what indifference is — craving bliss in the short run only to earn chaos in the long run.

That's. what. indifference. is. — selling your heart for a single moment, and getting back a wounded one to live with for an infinity.

That's. what. indifference. is. — not being able to show the depth of my feelings for a boy with overgrown hair and ordinary eyes, that the only way to keep them from dripping down my cheeks and spilling past my lips was to hide them behind bricks and thorns.

× × ×