Aiden and I currently live in an apartment building. On the first floor. We are thus surrounded by people.
There are people on either sides of us, people above us… we can hear EVERYTHING. And I mean E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G
Recently I have started to hear a baby cry at odd times during the nights. I have to say it’s not an annoying, ear piercing screech that wakes me up – I am a notoriously bad sleeper so I find myself awake plenty of times during the night, and then I hear the baby cry. The parents get up and either comfort, feed or change the baby and everyone goes back to sleep (except for me off course – fuck you insomnia), but as I am laying down in bed tonight, I heard the baby cry again, I hear the parents move, and within seconds, the Baby is quiet and comforted, and back to sleep… bare in mind it is now 23:40.
And it hits me…
We are all just little babies crying in the middle of the night. This baby clearly didn’t need a nappy change, nor did it need milk… it woke up and felt alone and needed to know that someone else was there. Someone was there that cared and would jump up and cuddle him or her, and reassure him/her (I feel bad constantly saying ‘it’, like he/she is an object without an identity), that they are not alone.
If I could, I would also start wailing at the top of my lungs when I wake up at 2:30 EVERY BLOODY MORNING, if it meant someone would come and hold my hand. But, alas, in the first place at some point we are taught that wailing at the top of your lungs at 2:30 is heavily frowned upon (by your parents especially) from a certain age, and in the second place, even if I didn’t mind waking the neighbors baby at that ungodly hour; nobody would come.
This is adulthood I suppose… we wake up at 2:30 desperately wanting to cry and scream because I just need someone to hold my hand or rub my back and tell me I am okay, I am not alone, it will be okay.
I also realized earlier today that I am strong. I am exceptionally strong. I don’t think though I was born this way, I was conditioned this way. It is an amazing feeling to know that I will never be defeated. But it is a soul destroying fact to know, that I can never be defeated. And this statement may sound profound to those who has not been forced by life to become indestructible, but I have realized that this makes me an incredibly difficult human being to be up against, and to tolerate and to love.
It’s a bittersweet fact of my life, this epiphany I have had about my greatest feat in life, that is also my biggest downfall.
I can’t be anything else though. I cannot pretend to be weak for I am not meak and mild even when I am broken – this is just who I am.
I can only trust that those who really do know me – and this meme jumps to mind:
really do see Me.
Life really is a bowl of soup, and I am a fork.
And what do I mean when I say that? All I mean is to say, that I really don’t know what the fuck I am doing.