The further away I get from the university’s environment, the closer I get to feel a fully functional human being again. I can appreciate the laughs for no reason, the simple conversations about everyday life, and the ability of being present, of being there for myself and others. The further away I get, however, the bigger the gap between him and me.
I never thought I would be one day crying over this, but I am. I can’t quite tell if I feel sorry for us, for me, or for him. I think I feel sorry for the fact I once got myself so deep into it. And I feel sorry for him because I feel he’s now gradually walking the same path that transformed me into a two-leg monster. And perhaps I feel sorry for us, since I’m not sure if we’re supposed to survive together. I don’t feel like a monster anymore and my vision is no longer grey.
He’s allowing me to see the wrong things I did and the things that I didn’t notice. It’s ugly. The absence in critical moments, the unintentional impatience, and the idea that people matter less than whatever we’re doing between the walls of a laboratory. Once inside of it, we don’t seem to be aware of the amount of life we miss when we become oblivious of what matters most.
I feel selfish for feeling sad and I feel sad for feeling unable to ever go back to the other side of the fence. On that side of the fence, I could speak the same language he now does. I could be a doctor and sound as smart as you can be when your everyday life is about proving yourself by diminishing others. On that side of the fence, I would lose again touch with the collective and yet be lonely together with a few ‘privileged’ people who will correct me whenever I say divide instead of share.
I’m perhaps crying over it because I can see it coming and I’m not sure about how painful it will be. I’m not sure if I can take it as I’m not sure whether I can keep increasing my tolerance to what my soul incessantly tells not to be the way things should be. My soul doesn’t believe in pain and constant sacrifice as a way to live. From the time I lived like that I know nothing but a good range of disease.
We’re slowly falling apart and I feel very sad about it, but I’m not crossing over to the other side ever again. I hope I will have the clarity to manage it and the serenity to know what to do when little knives come right at me. I know it’s another big lesson from the universe, even though I haven’t understood the learning goals. In the meantime, I must remind myself that whatever happens, I always had and I always will have myself. And that self doesn’t want to become the monster it once was.