forces of gravity

I had walled myself in a compound without doors or windows, and the only path anywhere led downward to my own dark thoughts. Mirrors were everywhere and the only light was artificial and sterile. There was no sunrise, there were no clouds, there was no silver lining.

That’s how I’ve felt the past several months. I’ve been in this prison of my own design, completely unaware of how cunningly I’d trapped myself. It’s a bit melodramatic, I suppose, but then again, I wasn’t even aware of how much pressure I put on myself until I returned from my recent trip to Bali.

Bali. The air was clean, the food was healthy, the fruit was fresh, the skies were clear. The cities were absent of skyscrapers and the grumbling of motors and the bleating cries of car horns. Palm trees lined the roads, makeshift shops sold handmade wares, and there was absolutely no pressure to do anything, nor any reason except our own pleasure. I was accompanied by my beautiful girlfriend, Natasha, and I can say without a doubt that it was the best vacation of my life. As anybody who reads this already has access to my facebook profile, I invite you to check out the pictures for details. Anyway, my return to Taipei was the hardest homecoming I’ve ever had and it really opened my eyes to the stress I’ve been under.

On a brief aside, people have commented that I’ve been looking increasingly older. I mean, last year I looked my age then – twenty four. This year, people peg me anywhere from twenty-eight to thirty-five. I suppose it’s all very literary to be older than your years, but in a country where people look perpetually teenaged until they hit forty, I keep getting the feeling that I’m one feeble step away from decrepitude. The only reason I can chalk it up to is stress.

Stress from obsessing over my ex-girlfriend to the point of self-abuse. Stress over the uncertainty of my job and visa situation here in Taiwan. Stress over not earning enough money. Stress for the sake of it – after all, the obsessive-compulsiveness hasn’t gone anywhere. I know, I know. Everybody’s got stress and their own problems. And everybody deals with it in their own ways, and my way (the unhealthiest) is to internalize it and let it digest you until you isolate yourself from the world to lick your wounds, and instead end up gnawing on them.

I’ve never felt so helpless as when I cared so much for a single person who rejected me time and time again. This is probably something that most people get over while they’re still teenagers but I suppose I was a late bloomer; my development arrested by neurological compulsions, social bullying, mental fixations on unimportant details that prevented me from absorbing life lessons as well as I ought to have. But it happened anyway and it crippled me. All I could think about was my lack of worth. I wasn’t good enough in every regard – it was my high school days come back tenfold.

Time went by. There were bright spots. I got a new job that was suited toward my talents. My fragile emotional state eventually simmered to the surface and created conflicts. I lost sleep for months on end. My job was put in a precarious position between my passion for my work and my propensity to fuck things up with the people who work around me. I was put on probation; probation was extended. Tempers flared and I was removed from the position.

Meanwhile, I had met a great new girl. I entered a warm relationship. It began as casual, and I remained fixated on my ex-girlfriend and her lingering ghost. It created tensions. I finally began letting go. I was still immature in many ways. More tensions. I was tight with money, I was a poor planner, I obsessed over minor things while being unserious about major ones. I had a quick temper. I loosened my pockets, I began thinking ahead. I listened to her concerns over issues and compelled myself, sometimes in vain, to sweat less the small stuff. My reflexive anger cooled.

I am perpetually in a state of flux. Stability is an illusion of not knowing where the next blow will come from. I am like a tenacious weed that gets starved, trampled, dehydrated, chewed up, mowed down, pissed on, and still grows toward the sun. I have been stripped of most conceits, deprived of most indulgences, yet retain enough agility to adapt to a tumultuous life in a foreign country. My worldview has been worn down to a grimly optimistic myopia: I can shape my world as I will, so long as I am unrelenting and unforgiving as the forces that shaped me.