A Gift from Morpheus

Minutes had turned to hours before I was able to fall asleep, but these hours in my dark room were overshadowed by a certain feeling of longing. I shut my eyes and let sleep engulf me, trying to put an end to the feeling, the hours; but it was no end.

The feeling, it seems, had seeped into my sleep. Nevertheless, Morpheus did me a kindness: my longing was satisfied in an astonishing dream. And while the memory of the dream had faded fast just after I woke up, the satisfaction lasted nonetheless.

It is just a dream after all. But maybe its significance lies in its outcome.

 

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I’m tired.

It seems to me that over the course of time I fail miserably to be who and what I want to be. The conflict that is being acceptable to most people by behaving in accordance with their perspective on social life which is precisely in contrast to being myself and having a different perspective is invariably devastating. What is more devastating is that I find myself unconsciously acting as they expect me to.

Long sleepless nights spent thinking about things that were done only because they were expected of me to do and not because I meant to do them. Things that I said but never meant simply because saying what I really thought would have been considered queer, and consequently would have made me “unacceptable” for violating their social norms.

It is a ferocious struggle to keep the preservation of truly and completely being yourself when it is blemished by the environment that you live in; an environment radiating obsolete way of thinking, and when it is escaping your grip.

I honestly have apathetic indifference to what people think, but it saddens me that the truth could be that I’m too scared to be who I really am or that If I was allowed to be it, I would disappoint myself.

Am I what society allows me to be or am I too scared?!