The Eighth Month: A Selfish Recovery

Passages are drafted, kept in the vault, considered to be published, occasionally planned to be published, eventually published.

There were times when even typing feels like opening a bottol cap with teeth. Yes, it is possible, but also poses a high risk of hurting the mouth area. On thy case, the soul area —

Passages are not asking for pity, neither for external validation, neither it is for anyone but the writer. All of it, all this time has always been for the publisher and one that is no other the same with the previous party mentioned before the very previous party mentioned.

It’s 9.13 pm (oh thirteen!) As I typed this, currently laying in my bed because for the past 10 days, I have a back to back meeting from 8 to 5pm non stop and still continue until this fri. Thank my work colleagues who would never ever chat me about “urgent work matter" past 5pm. Nevertheless,

There were times as if re-born was true. Those first time moments regained, re-had. Feels like it’s been a long time of pause but truthfully it was just scattered, torn into pieces, messier mess.

Augustine’s song this year is totally something else. Unexpected of the unexpected, bearing more of uncertainty despite of the struggle to find clarity. Been gone for several days and that was ultimately necessary.

Sorry not sorry, not sorry. It’s a selfish one and no sorry will be redeemed because it’s selfish and so? It’s a selfish one and don’t take anything as if it is for your plate.

Challenge accomplished. Feelings validated.

Crawling out of the funnel of pain, that’s one way to define what suffering concept actually is. It’s a funnel, because first it might suffocate but as you crawl even little by little, the suffocation lessen by itself, giving wider room, but risk of being sucked in back into the tiny and darkest part of the funnel is still possessed. Once we’re out, we’re out to the woods, and hence we’re out of the woods. Shall there be question of the current whereabouts, the answer would be: hitting the weeds.

Didn’t plan, didn’t see this coming. A wrecking moment that is truly wrecking. The urge to spill tea of wrecking moments and tell the explicit truth is on the tip of the mouth. However, perhaps not now. We’ll find the moment later.

All stories published in Augustine’s song has made enough anxiety to close and open and re-close and re-open channels to the world. But then again, this is a battle and losing should never be scratched in the dictionary.

If you were to ask of what happened to me, here’s my way of explaining:

I was bombed with truths that makes me realize for the past 5 years, I was lied to. 5 years, and it’s not just one lie. It’s a never ending lie that keeps on coming out as I dig deeper. It was not the lie that actually hits me so hard, but it was how then it impacted my thoughts, my insecurities, and everything in between.

I could only lay down, thinking how any curse could actually fit to myself and as the saying says that “the biggest enemy is ourselves” and to me, it also apply to other “most" adjective. In this case, “the hardest to forgive". That one is a real torture.

It has been a quite fierce battle with myself, and thankfully, I am surviving.

I once read a phrase:

Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional

Here I am. Though I might be suffering, but I won’t runaway again for now.

So, it has never been about someone else, about you, about a b c or oh nope. It has always been about me, and so that’s the selfish recovery needed.

Hope: the today me can last long, and even better in every next second I inhale.

Now: singing Tay’s ciwyw.