Discomforting Uneasiness

I’ve been in Taguig for a little over a week now. It feels like a month or a year or ten years and my soul has not yet moved in with me. I don’t expect it to. Not this soon anyway. I figured that if I just moved out of CDO and left an old, tired self behind and went away from it all, I would feel better about myself. In a way I do. Yet in so many other ways, the transition is yet to finish unfolding and it tells me I have to hold on to my seat because turbulence is on its way and it’s going to be rough and please don’t take out the inflight magazines because they’re supposed to last a month before the next issue. Also put on your mask before helping others. Life jackets are under your seat. Or in the seat in from of you. I didn’t hear that part. I hope we don’t crash and sink. Or blow up. But blowing up would probably be better because I wouldn’t have to worry about life jackets.

I’ve always had a strong bipolar relationship with comfort zones. I think we all do. Comfort zones envelop us in warmth like a hearth or a hug or happiness or home. But on sporadic days, we find that comfort zones do more bad than good and it’s like nicotine or alcohol or some other addiction like shopping or tattoos that we sometimes feel we’ve reached an unparalleled euphoria and that we shouldn’t let go. I think it’s a fear of reality. A fear of knowing, knowing that we are not meant to live in comfort, knowing that we will be in the worst of conditions and that we might not survive the cosmic test, knowing that somehow, there is only so much joy the world can give, knowing that at the end of it all, we are destined to find ourselves and we are afraid that we might not like them or that we might like them too much, so much so that we might have to decide whether we like the people we should become more than the people that we already are. It’s knowing that we will be unsure and confused and ultimately destroyed before we can be rebuilt.

I am afraid of that, too. I think we all are. To some extent, we are desperate to know so we can decide now whether the future is worth going to. I am afraid of the future. I am afraid that if I got there, I wouldn’t like it and going back would be impossible or possible but not in my lifetime and that scares me. But where else do we go?