I had trouble writing this until yesterday [wrote this on August 3rd]. It was only after I cried that I could properly transcribe the words onto paper. When I discover something so essential about myself, the thing that undulates beneath and drives who I am, something that before I could only edge towards but could never quite reach, I can’t help but experience a deluge of emotions. It is the agony of experiencing that thing to its sharpest touch and the terrifying ecstasy of being in full resonance with it. Writing this was an evocation of repressed psychic contents that were, ironically, hidden in plain daylight, and the tears were summoning incantations for these psychic contents to be unveiled.

Not too long ago, a friend of mine said I had three facets that are present within me but don’t talk to each other (compartmentalization basically):

The part of me that wants to help others.

The other part of me that wants to be left alone and be autonomous.

Lastly, there’s a part of me that wants to exert force and dominance.

The lack of integration of and communication between these aspects creates a psychodrama where I’m pulled in different directions. Internal tension shows no sign of resolution. Competing desires show no want for compromise. Emotions intensify and seethe but there’s no release valve. It’s being married to your soulmate but you’re not allowed to touch them. Clenched jaws, grinding teeth, and driving with the brakes on. I love you, don’t leave me, now fuck off.

Solitude has its own beauty and each one of us establishes their own unique cadence with it, but I would rather surrender myself to and be overtaken with the alchemical energy that’s emitted when people are magnetically drawn together. Yet I find myself frustrated because I want too much while simultaneously knowing that I myself am not good enough. And so I withdraw and I simmer and I seethe. However, my pride and avarice have it that I deny these needs and push forward. Or rather I don’t show my hand.

I want to be there for you (general, abstract ‘you’) but I feel like I don’t have what it takes to properly suit your needs so I give very little of myself. And when I do give, it’s never enough. My avarice ends up hurting you and you feel resentment towards me. In response to that, I also feel resentment towards you for making demands on me, but deep I know you’re right and the shame seeps through me. Still my first instinct is to withdraw and disengage, or to lash out passive-aggressively (whether consciously or not) and thus the cycle of rejection continues, one that’s rife with unsatisfied needs and desires, denial, and frustration. Is it not hypocritical to want so much and to give so little and to then be angry at those who want the same from me? Underneath the pride, the glue that holds my ego together, is intense dysphoria.

I’ve finally got to experience the rare feeling of catharsis when I started to actually feel the weight and sudden release of these emotions and they ran the gamut from anger, anxiety, to grief, to eventually a calm emptiness. Of course, one crying session isn’t going to do much in the long run, but maybe it’ll set a precedent for something. Whatever that thing may be.