Bath Musings Ep.03 || "Stop being so sensitive about everything."

1/13/2018


Bath Products Used: 'Rose' Bath Bomb from Grace & Stella Co. Organic, natural, and amazing value!

Songs Listened To: Nothing.

Minutes Wasted: Over 60.


"Anne, you sound really fragile. I'm worried about you." 

"Stop being so sensitive about everything."


Both of these things were said to me within 5 hours. One was written to me by someone who I rarely speak to, and the other was said in person by someone who loves me. Regrettably. the latter was said by the person who ought to be saying the first. It confused me. They were both saying the same thing, I guess, just in their own ways. One seemed caring, and made a lump form in my throat that didn't seem possible the swallow. The other seemed cold, and made a lump form in my throat that didn't seem possible to swallow. Ironic, isn't it?  So similar, yet so different. I guess people are like that too. Their brains most likely formed a similar thought, but the power of speech made their words differ. Was it thoughtlessness by the second? Or the want to come across as kind with the first? I felt conflicted and found myself huddled in the corner of my bed that night, crying, as I tried to make sense of the differing words. In a strange way, it felt they were playing the roles of my head and heart. One so sensible and treating me with kindness, the other making me chip at myself with the need of someone who has just found out there are creatures living under her skin. I wanted to bleed the sadness out in a way that I knew wasn't healthy.

It's weird but reading that back, all I can pick up on is the word "sadness". I was sad. I still am sad. Why does that single word have the ability to sum up the inner workings of myself? When one is experiencing happiness, the word "happy" seems to fall short. If you say the words "I'm happy" to someone, you quickly try to clarify that it isn't only just that you're experiencing. You add on a "but it's so much more than that". Or if you're lucky, you smile at that person who asked and they understand how much weight those two words carry. But with sadness, it's different. If someone asks, or let's face it, usually snaps a "What's wrong?" in your direction, you can't answer with a simple "I'm sad" because they want a description that will, in a sense, prove your sadness. Sometimes there are no reasons behind the sadness, so you know you'll never be able to answer suitably, which in their eyes, will seem as though you were lying or just mistaking a normal down day as sadness. They expect explanations from you, but with a happy day you never have to explain what has brought on the happiness. So logically, you'll tell people when you're happy but you'll cover the sadness with a "nothing" blanket and accept their sighs of frustration or their snide comments, because there is no other option with a better outcome. Is there? I don't know anymore, I'm used to the habit of secrecy.

I've noticed lately that it seems to be a taboo of sorts to be quiet. When I'm having a really rough day, or maybe even a rough night that has seeped into a new day and made me feel exhausted, I'll be somewhat quiet. Not out of choice, but because I can't find the energy to fake enthusiasm for pointless things or find enough of the honesty inside of me to open up to someone. But that isn't allowed, naturally. I'm not allowed to be quiet without people thinking I'm miserable or mad. It's heartbreaking, isn't it? That people label our emotions when we aren't willing to do it ourselves. It ought to be our blank canvas, no matter our actions. But alas, people like to say how we're feeling before we even find enough of a heart rhythm to. I'm cold, I say that not with hatred to myself or with a need for sympathy, it's a fact. I'm cold towards people, especially on those quiet days. And as some have pointed out to me, it makes me "a miserable girl". I won't show my inner hearts workings to you because I don't think you care enough. And believe me, if I'm not willing to, there's reason behind it. Show me compassion, and not just every now and again, and I'll believe you'll be there when I want to fall. But if you make me make me hate myself more than I already do, how can you expect me to depend on you? It feels like self destruction. Like allowing myself to lean on a wobbly fence around a very tall bridge. If you forget to care when it matters, how can I believe you care when it does?

People are oblivious, as ever. And I'm just here, doing to same as ever. It's a treacherous mix that I'm getting tired of.




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