A New Discovery

Written for "The Inner Condition." My first article for the project. Make sure to read all the way to the end!

    I have made a very important scientific discovery. It not only benefits me, but the whole of the world- especially those aged 16 to 25 years.

    I have discovered that the only thing worse than teenage angst and "depression" is adulthood confusion.

    As an avid writer and blogger, it's my hobbyist job to understand myself, so I can better understand my writing. I write as much fiction as I do self-help blogs and advice columns. But when I come to a rather prominent standstill in my growth as a human being, it affects my work. Perhaps, oddly, it makes a more positive impact. That's not for me to decide.

    I guess what I'm trying to relay here is that I've fallen, in the course of one short week, from a very happy, ambitious point in my life, to a rather dreary, introverted ghost of what I know myself to be. It's not that I'm depressed- far from it, actually. There's still plenty of joy left inside me. But the ever-present feeling of doom and internal bullying is looming over my head again, and I'm feeling smothered by its increasing weight.

    I need to get out from under it. I need to talk to someone. But who? My "problem" is awkward, really. It is new territory and unbroken ground. Off the charts; beyond the scope of any path I've studied before. I'm feeling alone and cold, inside, all the while knowing that I am definitely not the only one to ever experience these feelings. But I simply can't talk to anyone. Who would I turn to? I can't talk to my mother- that's just out of the question, for undisclosed reasons. I can't talk to my father- that's just too odd. My sister is younger than me, and try as she might, likely wouldn't understand. My grandmother would call a reverend. My best friend's conclusion would be the same as my own. Her mother is an option, but again, it feels too strange to be considering talking about this to her.

    So...what? Am I really just going to sit around on my uncomfortable and poorly upholstered living room couch all day, with a piece of paper and a pen in front of me, making a map of my own subconscious to try to pinpoint the cause of these irrepressible feelings? That's what I've been doing for two hours. It's helping me dig deeper into the problem, but so far, there's no sign of a solution. My current hypothesis is that if I vent about it to a million strangers, I might suddenly and inexplicably feel better. So I'm trying it. And so far, so good.

    I hope I find a cure soon, in my research. I hope I don't have to go so far as to seek professional help. I'm asking everyone I meet, both in reality and the virtual realm, that I don't know very well. I know I'm coming off as a creep- I don't care. I need help. I'm sick. So, so sick. Pathetic doesn't even begin to describe it. The dreams are beginning to get to me. I can't stop the thoughts, the warm, fuzzy feeling whenever I think about these life-altering deeds I want to commit.

    How joyful it would be to simply slip into that world and simply turn everything upside down and over on itself! Oh, all my pain and troubles would seemingly melt away if I could just bring myself to commit the sinful act of self-indulgence. I imagine it would feel hot- maybe a little gooey, as I basked in the glory of the rivulets of sensation.

    But I can't. I have to face the somewhat sharper, colder reality that I'm not ready for that. I haven't prepared myself for the ultimate sacrifice yet. I can't act too quickly, for all my efforts would be quashed in the blink of an eye by someone who invariably knows better than I. I would have nowhere to turn when things got a little stuck. No one to let in on my queer little secret, which would be a true shame. I must have someone to share this with. I cannot go at it alone. Yet, I know no one who could be trusted in my confidence at the moment. No one who would help me "take the next step" towards my complete happiness, somewhere down the road. Perhaps, realistically, I will never find that perfect partner-in-crime, but at the least, I will find someone suited to my modus operandi.

     But someday, oh, someday I'll know what it's like. The bliss, the absolute perfection of existence that my physio-chemical make-up seems to believe can only come from this new way of living, of thinking, of being. I can't help but taste it, but feel it, but sense it in every possible way, especially in the hazy, intangible overlap between awake and asleep. Those moments are the best. I can still reach out and entangle myself in fistfuls of closeness, of proximity to another person as they look into my eyes and realize everything that I am about. That I encompass. On special days, I can hang there, suspended in that vision, and I can hold onto it for a few moments longer before I pass from one realm of consciousness to the next. Someday, I sincerely hope that vacuous, private place where my thoughts tend to wander in the dead of night or the first light of morning becomes real. Someday, I'm sure something to that effect will materialize. Will it be all that I imagine it to be? Perhaps, perhaps not. There's only one way to find out. But for now, I will wait for my someday. I will sit here through my confusion and my sadness and my hormonal grievances and bear it all with squared shoulders and a gracious smile, until the attack passes in another wave. My parting thoughts to you are to cherish what you have, especially now. You don't know how lucky you are to be fulfilling a dream. But rest assured, I'll have my someday.

    Because someday, I, too, will be head over heels crazy in love with a man, whom I will marry, and I will have the most beautiful family I could ever want or imagine. I just have to deal with waiting from now 'til then.

    Happy Valentines Day. <3

Author's Note

What did you think of the ending? Heehee, I hope you really got creeped out by everything until the last three lines put the essay in perspective!