Confusion

I reach for my pocket and find my earphones tangled, once again. I take them out and try to untangle them, balancing a cigaret on my lips. It’s raining again, I think to myself. Great. I plug the earphones into my phone and start playing “Cough Syrup” on Spotify, while walking towards the wet muddy park. I love walking and smoking even though it can be quite difficult when it’s raining. If you’re wondering why I smoke, it’s because I’m anxious and confused; about everything, all the time. The cigaret is my way of dealing with all this anxiety without really dealing with it. Cigarets aren’t very helpful with forgetting, however. I used to drink to drown my problems and immerse myself in this ecstatic transcendence. I used to transform into this other person; little did I know that the day after, the pain would hit me harder than the day before. So, I stopped drinking to deal with the pain, to learn how to live with it.

I open my eyes and I am now standing on the bridge, looking at the river Kelvin confused as to how I got here. I have a new unlit cigaret on my hand. Odd. I zone out sometimes. I get lost in the maze-like wagons of my train of thought. I get fixated on the past and often confuse it with the present. I need to keep reminding myself that they are more than separate. In fact, it feels as though they are two different lives of two different people. I was a naive unhappy child and I am a slightly happier, perplexed and angry adult. Life is more confusing than ever.

As I lay my eyes on the running Kelvin, I can’t help but wonder: what if I were a tiny little drop of water in this roaming river? Would I feel free then? Free from worries and problems and a thousand unanswered questions. I reckon I wouldn’t feel that empty if I were that crystal clear drop. Too many feelings have made me feel absolutely nothing. Even filling myself with smoke feels like nothing. ‘Nothing’ is confusing.

I close my eyes and when I open them again I’m in my apartment, guitar in hand. I’m so tired and dizzy from zoning out. I know how I got here this time, but it seems distant, insignificant. Anyway, apparently, I’m singing now… and there’s a distinct sting near my heart. It feels like… I’m feeling again. I know it’s pain that I feel, I remember it clearly now… but at least it’s better than nothing. I sing painful heartbreak songs and I suddenly feel warm tears running down my face, just like the river is running across the face of the earth. It somehow feels liberating that the tears don’t seem to be stopping.  They run from my eyes to my cheeks, to my guitar and land on my leg. I cry for the unanswered questions mostly. I cry out of confusion. I don’t know what lies ahead even though I want to. I want answers, meaning, significance.

I close my eyes and when I open them, it’s a new day.

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