Adulting Uncensored #Issue6
Internal Monologues
Forgive me if my thoughts are intrusive, this is a rant.
Dear reader,
For the first time in my life, I hope for nothing. I pray for silence, for it to seep through my skin so my mind can be at peace.
In the quiet recesses of my heart, a deep-seated weariness has taken residence for quite some time. When I attempt to convey this fatigue to others, what I truly intend to express is my profound inability to savor life with the fullness it deserves. This deficiency can be traced back to moments when my desires remained unfulfilled, or when their realization left me devoid of any genuine emotion. It has become evident that the exhaustion I bear is a silent accumulation of disheartening episodes, a repository of unmet aspirations, lingering regrets, and the ever-present ache of dissatisfaction.
The darkness of my nights finds me in a relentless search for my deepest connections. It was just yesterday when I found myself in the company of unfamiliar faces, obliged to present myself as Uloma, the one with a sense of humor. But beneath the surface, I find myself asking, who is the real me?
In recent months, I’ve been burdened by a profound silence, with writer’s block accounting for half of this stifling quietude. The other half is ensnared in the labyrinth of my thoughts, grappling with the intricate balance of the words I choose to utter.
It’s this unending desire to remain in perpetual motion that made me abhor those instances when there seemed to be little to occupy myself with, branding “rest” as mere idleness. Consequently, I’d applaud myself during active moments and reproach myself during periods devoid of apparent activity.
Securing a job, discovering a love interest, earning a certification, or receiving recognition in my professional life didn’t bring me joy. Instead, they brought relief, as if I had fulfilled a duty, leaving me to ponder, “What’s the next challenge?” The cycle persisted.
Deep within, the undeniable reality is that I’ve been silent, void of words or passion. My enthusiasm has waned, and I find myself indifferent to nearly everything. Despite this, I am embracing the art of cherishing life, even in moments of discomfort.
Today, I yearn to grant myself the freedom to simply exist. I desire to engage in activities purely for my own joy, without the pressure to impress anyone, not even myself. I crave an experience that will genuinely captivate me, something I can eagerly share at day’s end — not merely a source of relief, but a source of vitality that truly makes me feel alive.
