No Consolation

Zachariah Lee

i’m trying to accept that my joy is volatile,

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— circumstantial, confusing, apparent  

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i wish that wasn’t the case. 

i’m trying to unlearn possessiveness,

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— entitlement, anticipation, and trust that my needs will be met 

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it’s somewhat rooted in fear: 

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fear of being discarded; 

thrown to the wayside; 

left behind. 

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i think i’m afraid of being cut off from sources of sustenance. perhaps i could stop opening myself up to such sources. 

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i’m only now realising that recently, i’ve actually been bereft of human connection, on my terms. i’ve only now realised that the people i once called dear held stances of friendship from a place of a consumer. i will down the words he says, reciprocating little. i will nod in agreeance with what he says, his words weighing a feather. 

i’m only now realising that this bereavement of desired, subjective human connection isn’t sustaining me. and the ones that are, either remain volatile or tolerable. i feel like since i don’t have an array of people sustaining me, it only intensifies the ones that do. thus, making me invest more time, energy, and unfortunately, possessiveness into them. amplified abandonment issues. the emotional severity that i hold people to now is both destructive and full. at the same time, it’s a poignant type of admiration. an impassioned love. 

unilateral. i feel like a factory. my body, manufacturing my emotions for the disposal of others. a machine created to produce 

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reactions, responses, empathy — overall emotional vacancy. 

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it’s tough sometimes. waking up to the realisation that the options are limited. either i am exploited, unheard, diluted to a good time. or i am perceived by a small amount of people, rendering my loneliness more apparent. am i okay with not being seen? am i okay with choosing loneliness over superficiality? easier said than done. sometimes i wish i didn’t care about emotional intelligence. i’d be happy with surface level friendships. laughter as the only sort of gratification. nothing deeper than that. my fix being a good time. no need for reciprocation. no desire. yet, when i exist in this solitude, i’m reminded that it’s both okay to feel melancholy and untroubled by these waters i find myself in. 

i simply treasure connection. if i’m deprived of its sincerity, i’d both reluctantly and doubtlessly choose the silence it dwells in.