Not me. (2023)
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- Votes 125
- Parts 91
Complete Mon, Dec 18, 20231h 13m
so, I've been struggling for a long time now, and I never told anyone about it. I've never opened up. but I met someone who understands how I feel, and I'm beginning to feel again. I don't know how to do it, but I finally feel I can fight. I've been so exhausted. I'm not better, I'm not sure if i ever will be, but I'm not numb, not entirely. I can't say how I'm feeling, or what i am going to write, but if you want it, it's here.
This is for you.
For everyone who was made to be the villain by those meant to be by their sides.
For everyone with a sensitive heart made to grow strong much too quickly.
For everyone who struggles to get out of bed in the morning.
For everyone who never could find the words to say why.
For everyone who struggles to feel and for everyone who feels too much.
For everyone who had to pick themselves back up.
For everyone who had to parent themselves.
For everyone fighting an invisible battle.
For everyone who has been underestimated.
For everyone who has to flee to other worlds to cope.
For everyone who found other means to silence their voices.
For everyone who was silenced.
For everyone who was over powered.
For everyone who was made to be less.
For everyone who had to watch someone else suffer and stay silent.
For everyone asking themselves, why?
Why would you do this?
What did I do?
Why is this happening to me?
It was never your fault.
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#727
darkthoughts
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Sometimes, I feel like I was designed not to live - but just to survive. My brain doesn't crave joy, meaning, or legacy - it just tries to prevent crisis. It calculates food, money, safety. It panics. It runs. It hides. And somehow... it keeps missing life. I've spent years trying to understand why my mind behaves this way. Why it imagines catastrophes while standing still. Why it avoids the simplest task. Why it overthinks even brushing teeth, but can ride a cycle for 100 km in the rain without blinking. One day, when I was still, completely still... with no task to distract me... this strange feeling overtook me. The thought that maybe - just maybe - I am not supposed to design my own purpose. I looked up. And I said, silently: "God... if You made me this way... if You crafted this restless, impulsive, chaos-driven machine of a brain... then You must know where I fit. Use me. Don't let me rot in guilt and survival. Don't let me just float. You know this universe in ways I never can. You know every corner of it. So You must know the one place where this exact wiring of mine can become meaningful." This wasn't surrender from pain. It was surrender from trying to control something I've clearly never understood. I don't need peace. I don't need success. I need to be used. Fully. For something only this kind of life, this kind of mind, could contribute. If I am a tool, let me build something. If I am a flame, let me burn where light is needed. But don't keep me in the dark asking, "Why me?" Maybe I wasn't built to ask. I was built to be assigned.
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