aftershock

aftershock - a personal essay

---

Everything seems to bring you back nowadays. From the sound of a song you once loved to the feeling of the cool breeze on your cheeks. From the smell of a certain weather to the taste of a flavor that held countless memories. You never seem to be in the moment anymore. You’re always looking back, flipping through pages and pages of memories, unforgettable moments that you know you will never live through again. Trying to feel things you felt that you know you will never feel again. You call it reminiscing, but in reality, it’s just that you’re not able to live your own without wanting anything but. 

You want to feel the butterflies you once felt when he called your name, when he put his hand on your shoulder, when he even stole a mere glance at your face. You want to laugh the way you did when you were around them, back when they didn’t hate you, back when you weren’t such a burden. You want to feel good about yourself again, you want to stop feeling like you have to break down every time you catch a glimpse of your own reflection. You’re not able to feel happy with your life, yourself, and everyone around you now because you’re so busy thinking about how things used to be.

Everything around you is changing, shifting, moving and yet you stay still. You don’t change. You don’t get worse, but you don’t get better. All you do is sit around and wait for something to happen because when you’re not busy feeling sorry for yourself, all you’re doing is trying to remember. 

You listen to songs that were once on repeat and stare up at the ceiling, just to feel something. You close your eyes when the breeze hits your face to bring you back but at the same time you’re embarrassed because of how something as simple as the wind can make you nostalgic. You try to recreate the experiences you once had with clothes, music, food. God, even the weather… Even though you know that it will never be the same. The only time you feel truly happy is when you’re thinking about the past. The past where you were happy, the past where people weren’t tired of you, the past where you didn’t have even a sliver of self loathing. The past where you didn’t have to turn to your memories to feel something because the present was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The past that went by in the blink of an eye.

You can’t even say you were healthy back then because you weren’t. You’re not. It’s just that you were distracted back then, distracted by him, distracted by the things he made you feel, distracted by all the fun you were having that you didn’t realize wouldn’t last forever. And now you’re mad that the only thing left to distract you now is your memories. 

             You think a lot. You’re always thinking, and when you’re not, you’re thinking about how you’re not thinking. You always make sure you’re aware of everything around you and everything you do, and it’s destroyed you. You look at other people and wonder how they’re not as conscious as you are, but really, they are always happier than you will ever be. You don’t allow yourself to make mistakes, because even when you merely imagine making one, you practically writhe in your seat because of how painful it is to even envision an error. That is because you know you’ve made mistakes, ones that you will never allow to happen again. 

But is that truly a good thing? 

How is one supposed to learn from their mistakes if they make none at all? 

Sometimes you wonder if that is the reason why you are stuck. You know you’ve changed over time, but now it feels as if you will never change again. You know that the you that you imagine in your memories is long gone. But the only reason that that you is long gone is because of your mistakes. Your mistakes of taking things for granted, taking people for granted, not being aware, being stuck in a hole that you have built for yourself. You’ve changed without even knowing it, without even wanting it. Now, you do want to change. You want to change because everyone and everything else is changing, but something is holding you back. It’s you. You are the problem and you know it, and yet you do nothing. You do nothing because you don’t know how. You don’t even know if the thoughts you think make sense to anyone else but you. You think that the only person that truly knows you is you. In fact, you know that the only person that truly knows you is you. You’re scared of anyone else really knowing you because you’re scared that they’ll run. 

They’ve run before.

You constantly force yourself to consume content because you don’t want to be left alone with your thoughts. You’re scared of your thoughts. You’re scared that if you think too much you’ll get hurt, but you’re also scared that if you don’t think enough, you’ll make mistakes. But you always seem to be thinking too much. So you drown out that man in your head with music, videos, podcasts, anything to make that bastard shut up. You pretend to live someone else’s life when you’re alone because you so desperately want to escape from your own. You paint scenarios and pretend to live through them just for your own enjoyment. They’re all memories of your life that were altered to end better than they did. You’re ashamed that you feel more joy within the fake events of your life than the real ones, but you don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. You hate how you look, how you think, how you feel, so you cope by trying to forget. Trying to forget the dreadful reality that is your own, trying to distract yourself from what your life really is.