Small Pangs In My Heart (not about love)

We all have a path to walk. It’s the one we end up walking after many options, boundless-creative-photography-ideas-12experiences, and attempts to discover who we are. Often, however, while on that path the things we expect don’t occur as planned. Which is why even though I try my hardest to never be jealous of others, I don’t hide the fact that I envy people that revel in the uncertainty that life has to offer. They call it fun. I call it scary.

I’ve always been the cautious type and I never saw it as a detrimental characteristic until recently where I’ve been completely surrounded with the unknown. No longer was I able to see the future I had begun to build for myself ever since I was a child. For the first time, I felt my need to always be safe and be cautious was holding me back. It just made it that much harder to deal and accept my situation when it began.

Where as someone that were more in tune with life itself and its abnormal ways of teaching us lessons, would have been able to go with the flow and in fact see the positives in what I would see as a problem.

I mean it’s not like what I’m dealing with a dire situation and I haven’t already learned to accept that certain things are just what they are no matter what…it’s just that even though I’m learning to be happy I still get these spikes of panic where my sense of reality hits me hard and fast as if reminding me…Fai…you’re not where you’re supposed to be.

I kept telling myself that I was avoiding life and that wasn’t right, but as I begin to understand that maybe the world I had built for myself and was trying to face was wrong, and in fact should be ignored. It was the world that was built for the little girl that had just entered high school with the sky as the only limit, where as the new realty would be more practical for the girl whose limit was her bedroom only a few months ago.

I want to start small and progress but then these small pangs in my heart when my mother mentions the close relative, whose my age, bullied me without anyone or even himself realizing was going to NYU, it just stops time for me.

Not that I’m jealous. In fact, I’m proud and happy. It’s just that ever since we reached a certain age, to his parents we were no longer two children who were like family, I suddenly became their child’s competition. Before it had never affected me as much because as I began to move on from my childhood bullies despite still seeing them every single day as a teenager, the first thing I taught myself to be happy was to never compare myself with another…I only had myself to compare with. No matter how much they would hurt me as the days would go by and make me angry or jealous of their happiness despite the miserable world they made for me, I fought to ingrain the lesson into my mind till soon I began to feel better…even happy.

Yet, soon years later as I progressed higher in the hierarchy they call high school, my parents and sister made me more aware of how my sister and I were always envied by others in our community because of how well we did in academics, socially, and in life in general. I was more than shocked when it started to become a more common topic in our household because now I was finally old enough to hear the facts that I may have not been able to hear earlier.

But still I didn’t believe. It was so far fetched. However, I was just happy that even though they were competing with me without my knowing, I was just happy knowing I was doing well in my own right with only myself in my mind as competition.

However, maybe because I was doing so much better than everyone else academically that it made it easier to ignore all the excess noise in my life because I was just so busy surviving high school.

I have never thought of myself with being better. I just knew that I was doing well with school but it wasn’t relevant to me as much as how sucky life was to me at the point where all the people thrown at me only would hurt me. The bullies, the fighting parents, the comparisons with my sister, and backstabbing people in general.

However even before I realized it, I began defining myself with others standards. I easily began to feel crappy about being left behind. Even though from the start I thought it makes complete sense that I should be able to give myself time to just deal with all the crap I’ve dealt with that’s been ignored, but the minute I start thinking about someone else other than myself… all of a sudden it doesn’t make sense anymore.

And just like that, another set of small pangs in my heart occur, just like a vicious cycle.

It was never about love…

but about pleasing others.

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