Stories of Fight

I kept reading my old posts on this blog thinking that my life years before was 'happier' than this. Not that I am not happy now, but the level of misery I read in the older posts was exaggerated. I felt like a complete drama queen. When did I write this? What was so bad that happened that made me write these words? Surely it can't be as bad as this past year, from June 2019, can it? Words looked so trivial. I didn't feel an inch of what I wrote, because I felt that everything I wrote before was nothing compared to now. The pain now is real. It was the realest thing I ever felt and the most painful one. No, wait. I don't painful is the correct word. I think terrifying is the word. You live a nightmare and you wish to just wake up, to feel the life you felt before. But that's not gonna happen. It was impossible, because we grow, and there is no coming back from every experience, good or bad, that we live. 

I was growing, I am growing. I am becoming who I truly am. Someone real. The truest version of me that is and that has ever lived. Yes, it's excruciating, but this is what growth feels like. I am becoming me. It might feel very uncomfortable at the beginning, but I will surely get to know me better with time. 

I just wanted to come here to pour even a small portion of my thoughts, because after all writing in this blog and the other blogs has changed me throughout the years and I owe it to my blogs that I am able to write and express to this day. 

Let the anxieties kick in. Let the panic attacks or whatever we wanna call them be invited. I know that what doesn't kill you makes you weak and trembling, but it also allows you to get used to the pain and discomfort until it no longer feels scary and terrifying.