I woke up in the middle of the night yesterday with a horrible nightmare of someone watching over me. N saw that I woke up and went back to sleep. At that moment, I wanted him to hold me and ask a simple question: "Are you okay?" I would have maybe hugged him tightly and gone back to sleep. He was tired from his travel. I understand. He didn't ask me and went back to sleep. A wave of emotion I can't name now washed over me. Something heavy sat on my chest; I tossed around, got tired, and fell asleep.
Is there no one I can go to when I want to feel safe? That one space or person where I can simply say anything without being judged? The one space that takes care of me for a change, asks me, "Are you really okay?" or reads and understands the giant heaviness that's made home in my chest since I was a kid. That one space or person who will care enough to actually read my soul? I know it's a bit too much of an ask. But I can do it here. Who cares anyway.
That's what usually happens. People never probe further or truly wait to listen. It's understandable. Everyone is so busy with their own problems and their own life; who would care to truly, patiently listen if you are going through something? No one does, unless there's something in it for them.
I sometimes think of my childhood and wonder if I should write it down here to process all the memories that still trouble me. They sneak in and catch me unawares and linger, adding weight to my already heavy chest. Sometimes I fear what if anyone who reads it thinks that I am romanticising my pain or self-victimising? But then, who cares to read and listen these days? No one.
Maybe doing this will help me heal in any way?
I think it is this quiet space of mine that will help me get rid of this chronic heaviness. Dunno... Let's see.
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