The sun lit up the room but it was not invited by Suz. It was her day off. A day to sleep in, rest from the drama in the world, and be selfish. Although she hated narcissistic personalities, she also realized there was strength in being alone. Most cannot sit in their own existence peacefully. Lost themselves along the way through someone, something, or some event. Lost in objects of grandeur, perceptions of people who really don’t exist in reality, and/or the distractions of every day life.
Sometimes Suz felt so overwhelmed by her own empathy she needed time alone. No one to worry about but herself even if it was just for an hour or two. She often found when becoming too involved with others, there was nothing left for her. Most were uninspiring, didn’t care about her writing, thoughts, feelings, and were more involved with their own. Conversations of minimal importance didn’t last long around Suz. She had a type of aura around her that could make someone full of crap quite uncomfortable. It deterred the worst of the worst, but it also attracted the sneaky heartless ones, looking to outwit her.
Sometimes I feel like I am done with this heartless world. Then someone comes around who gives me hope. And it creates this cycle of helplessness then hopelessness. Why do people create rollercoasters? The question could be answered by the literal object itself. Up and down, fast and slow, and a track in a circle. Except, do we have control? Over how fast or slow even in life? Are there just some things that make everything feel like it’s speeding up and never going to slow down?! I think so. I think I am at the speeding up part where the track is coming loose at the nuts and bolts and everyone is watching in horror, thinking I might die. Or maybe they are all looking in admiration and I always think the worst? Suz thinks.
She goes to the window. One of the only ones in her apartment, as if she intends to suck the life out of the sun. The streets are busy and full of life. Sometimes she feels she is missing out. Other times she goes out and is missing out on being home.
Does anyone talk about anything besides politics anymore? It doesn’t seem that way. And if you decide to shut it out for a while, you risk the label of unintelligent. Or they say you don’t care about important issues. What important issues when it seems like the wealth is concentrated and our elections are funded? We have a fallacy of a democracy. Am I wrong for becoming drained?
She takes her hands to the keyboard and types mostly unpopular opinions. It seems to attract those of a certain demeanor; which is her point. To weed out those who cannot open their minds to ideas that do not echo against their walls. It creates judgment, ridicule, but always revives her spirit. Too much had ravaged her heart; making it at one point, cold and uninviting. Or at times, too giving and self destructing as a result.
My heart is either on my sleeve or my arm is covered by layers of clothes. She thinks. Why am I like this? Am I like this, or is it just a reaction I am having in conjunction with certain types of people? What types of people do I dislike? Am I allowed to though, really dislike someone? Am I allowed to dislike them but still see them as human? Is there a way to do this? How can you take the hatred out of dislike? I think I have mastered it with pity. Pity for those who have to play mind games, judge based upon appearances, are sucked into the negative abyss of politics daily, and/or overall lack empathy. I feel like I am done holding onto all this disappointment in people. All these what ifs, why can’t they, and explaining myself. In the end, their world will crash on down they built up around themselves and there will be nothing but self pity, despair, and much needed isolation. It sounds cold but the world is never just about the sun; it is just as much about the rain.
She reaches in the depths of her mind to fid the will to write. To find the will to survive and her words flow onto the screen effortlessly in these moments. She feels unstoppable. As if she is dancing in the rain without an umbrella and no longer cares.