"What if"
A self reflection on how i view myself and the patterns I show in relationships.
When I’m bored, I often play the “what if” game.
- What if God exists?
- What if aliens are living on Mars?
- What if animals could speak?
- What if I were somebody else?
That last one is my favourite. To briefly escape into a world where I don’t exist. It feels like a heavy weight lifting from my heart, and I feel free. Sometimes I linger in this fantasy for hours, until I can no longer tell reality from illusion. But then I find myself in situations where it is clear as day –I haven’t changed at all. I’m still the same me. The same naive, small, fearful person that, sooner or later, always shines through my thin shell.
After watching this cycle repeat itself more times than I have freckles on my cheeks, my thoughts have begun wandering towards new horizons. Is it possible to have hope for me? Even though I am who I am? I know that it’s a foolish question, but I can’t help but be curious about the answer.
- What if I accepted who I am?
- What if I could be proud of my accomplishments?
- What if I abandoned my anxiety?
- What if I didn’t loathe myself?
- What if I were happy?
Because I’m not, I’ve realised. No one would be happy being me. I’ve often believed myself to be happy, even the happiest, but every time it’s just a temporary skin that I later shed. The common denominator is that I’ve never truly discarded what I really am: fear and hate. I’m afraid of being myself, because what if no one accepts me? So, I repress and change myself. I don’t show my real emotions, because what if I get rejected? So, I built up a wall. Behind my wall, I avoid real and deep connections, because what if I hurt them? For a long time now, I have just accepted that I’ll never be enough, there will always be someone better to chase after. And if somebody actually chooses me, I push them away. According to me, it’s to shield them. According to reality, it’s to shield myself.
Because what if I had to confront my fears?
What if I had to realise that it’s actually me who creates and feeds into them?
What if I had to let go of every notion of who I am?
Then who is left?