It feels good to be understood

Truth is, it feels good to be understood. And feels absolutely shitty to be dismissed. To be made to feel pathetic. Whether it is the other person's intention or not, it doesn't matter.

I was a bit cheerful yesterday, despite my general flimsy mood. In particular, I was genuinely happy, albeit a tiny bit sorrowful, when I shared with my partner that I was glad I didn't kill myself when I was younger. Happy that I'm still alive and sorrowful knowing that kids around the world still go through what I went through and others, way worse. I told him, I hope that young people who are thinking about ending their life have a way of knowing that it does get better. The situation or life itself may not, but they would become bigger. I likened it to a hole that some people have (maybe a void?) deep within them. As time passes, the hole doesn't necessarily get smaller, they will just become bigger as a person, making the hole less felt and maybe even irrelevant. But my partner insisted that the hole does get smaller. I said he was missing the point. But he insisted, because he said, there is no right or wrong holes. That it's different for everyone. What he didn't understand was the point he missed wasn't about the hole getting bigger or smaller. The point was I was trying to open up and explain to him a personal experience. I wasn't arguing about which was wrong or right, which was physical law or metaphysical hypothesis, which was scientific or merely a product of the imagination. The point was seeing hope and displaying resiliency despite that permanent hole we have inside us. Some people are born poor and die from hunger. Some people are too sensitive to withstand the harshness of the world and given that the humanity keeps finding out new ways to be unbelievably ruthless, it becomes challenging for them to live normally. And some people live with lifelong diseases, including mental disorders, that only gets worse over time. But before I could even say anything, he added, shutting me up, (because I guess he didn't want to argue about holes) in what could have been a smug manner, that he really didn't know, because he was fortunate enough to have a happy childhood.

That definitely shut me up. I don't know what he was trying to say. I spent the whole night and the whole day trying to understand. Like I did before. I told myself, we're just different, is all. He didn't mean anything else by that except that we're just different people. I have to understand that. Like I always do.

It's been more than 24 hours and I still can't understand. I kept repeating in my head that no one in the world can really full understand us, ever. We are all different from each other. We all die alone. See, I know all these things. But I'm still hurt. I don't understand how such insensitivity can come from him. Maybe from other people I wouldn't have been surprised? Maybe from my exes? And I wouldn't have opened up to other people anyway. But why did he say that? Maybe he just wasn't listening? He though it was just a random existential thought? I still don't understand.

Heaven help me understand.

In The Middle

I feel like starting a new blog again, in the hopes of sparking a new-found desire in human life, but I don't think I'm ready, nor worthy.  I think too little of my life to even document its day-to-day. But still, let me try.

If it doesn't work on my BuJo you'll find me back here soon.