I can't talk about it but I need to #2

What happens to self-compassion?

My own self had kept me more awake lately because I was itching to write this second part of 'I Can't Talk About It but I Need It To'. 

The problem with writing vulnerability is not wanting to be misunderstood, but it is from that misunderstanding that had led me to write this piece in the first place. I am waist deep in my own thoughts. 

If we look at ourselves as our own home, with our own windows, doors, and walls, then there are much too many elements. I'll take my walls, for now, that function as the capsule to my soul. Walls that have heard all my joys, cries and every emotion I can possibly feel. The older I get, the more cracks there are.

Sadly, it seems like I've been covering a lot of my walls with wallpapers because of how scared I have been to show what's underneath. Nobody really knows what's the effect they have on a person, right? For every open wound that needed healing, I simply put a band-aid on it, so it's band-aid after band-aid until I could see no more of that wound. I'm not exactly proud of what I've been doing. Sigh. 

Whenever someone said something hurtful, I was quick to shrug it off and apologise instead. How stupid. Oftentimes it's because I'm not allowed to admit how I feel. That's just how it has always been, at home, work, relationship and so on. When it gets too heavy, I would start to daydream about dying. 

I tried to talk it out, but it all sounded so wrong, so loud and so pathetic. My problems became so small and so irrelevant. I became irrelevant. 

I have very little choice but to be strong on my own. To learn self-compassion so I can tell myself that suffering is a common human behavior. That I am okay, and I will be okay. So much hope. So much lies. 

Much like others, I too feel insecure every now and then. I question my withering look, my competency, and my own self-worth. Sometimes I think that's partly why I don't want to move from this mundane spot or even start dating. It's believing that everyone else deserves someone much better than me. 

Perhaps I hope to meet someone who sees my flaws and still think I carry a certain kind of beauty, yet they still choose to stay. I mean, it's easy to meet someone who thinks you're beautiful but I get so confused when they leave. The moment they walk is the moment when everything turns into lies. At least that's what I always thought but I could be wrong. 

Gosh, lately I am just so overwhelmed by my own insecurities and emotions, but how incredible it is to learn that sometimes I am not always right about my own thoughts, that it's all in my head. How draining that is. 

Now that I've written all these, do you know how it makes me feel? 

Like I want to take all my words back.