I was thinking about this Saturday. How do I feel about it, really? Am I ready? Will I ever be ready? I still feel uncomfortable just thinking about them. But it is merely discomfort now: just recognising the fact that the way I see them (or things) have changed, and I can’t just revert myself to how I was before. It’s difficult. I say to myself: I want to be friendly; I want to be open; I really want to be kind and warm. But as soon as I think about it, I shrink from it. I try to imagine it happening but I can’t. Although, the idea of them doesn’t bring the same amount of pain I used to go through. And that is better. But what next?
I think: no amount of reasoning can make me feel the way I used to towards these people (friendliness, forgiving, or even just reasonably understanding and logical). The past is the past. Maybe I am not used to being around people I don’t trust; people I no longer consider friends. It feels strange in a way, but it is also familiar. Trust is weird. This is me now, and scars leave behind some itches and I just can’t get past —
Well, my doctor has explained all of these before. I do believe I’m getting better. These are the kind of memories that aren’t exactly nostalgic. They’re not dear, but neither are they painful. I’m unsure, hesitant, scared even. But I will always have my own corner, my own space, and I can make that safe.
I feel exactly the same way about my blockmates now. It is quite strange that ‘weird’ is normal for me, now.