An explosion of it all

 Things have been rough. The tide is strong and messy, taking me right and left in no specific order. There are days that I think I might be going mad.

But if I think deeper... I know I am not only myself, I am also bits and pieces of: My grandma, I am part of her personality that divorced and lived alone almost all her life, I am her pain, her strength, her fight. I am my grandfather, always upset with the world, always thinking that nothing and no one is good enough, always thinking that he knows best. I am also that, I am angry, restless and miss know it all. I am my other grandma, depressed almost all of her life, in fear of the unknown, hidden in a shell, thinking that she isnt good enough for anything. I am all of that too: depressed, hidden, low self-esteem. I am part of my other grandfather, adventurous, no serious relationships, detached of most people and society goals. I am 100% that: there is no life without adventure, solo forever, independent, brave and a fuck-you-all attitude that never takes me anywhere. I am my mother, alone, feeling that nobody understands her, hurt by the past, full of an emptiness that never goes away. I am that. I am my father, pretending that all is good all the time, that life is always beautiful, pretending that he doesnt need anyone or anything to be happy, focusing on the good stuff, not talking about the things that hurt and when everything becomes too much explode out of nowhere and scream at everybody. Yes, I am my father: an optimist on my good days, a good actress, upbeat, a good laughter, smile at everybody, reserved, unstable, broken.

I hope I am also my cousin, the best heart I ever met, the most genuine smile, the most genuine words, somebody that never forgets anybody, that cares about everybody, I hope I am also her, her heart, her empathy, her love.  

I wished I remembered faster all the good stuff that makes me be me.

Besides this... I am the books I read when I was a kid. I read so many sad, complex and depressing books. Most of them real stories, that soon in life taught me that to live is so many times a struggle.

I am the people that I met along the way. They were so many, I am now an explosion of everything.

I am the moments that I lived, or at least the ones that I remember. Sometimes I think I have been forgetting many things. And probably I have been forgetting the best moments, for some unknown reason the bad ones are stamped to my soul.

I am my decisions, even though sometimes I wonder if it's not them that own me.

I am my words, despite it all, I always knew how to use words when the time was right. Words almost always comforted me, words have been trying to help me find myself since I learned how to write.

Yes, I am too much, but as I can't change any of this... It is time to accept it all, learn how to organize it, learned how to be in peace with all these parts of myself and find a better light, a better angle, a better perspective. Something genuine but lighter, I want to make peace, breathe and let go. Even though my path is long, and my strange scars are deep. I dont see the exit yet, but I better work out on finding my way inside these 4 walls.

AR