Torn

Have you ever been torn in two different directions? Like you’re standing on a cliff, and you cannot decide which way to go. Do you turn back, and head to the safety of the land within, that boring life that offers all the safety in the world? Or do you jump off that cliff, that keeps beckoning, whispering offers of new excitements and joys that you have never experienced before?

Metaphorically speaking of course. But that’s how I feel. Like I’m torn in two directions. North or south, up or down, in or out, left or right, front or back. There isn’t any middle ground I can retreat to. No gray area I can hide out in. It’s either a yes or no. There is no maybe or I don’t know.

I’m such a screwed up kid. How do I get myself into these kinds of situations? More so, how did I become this girl who gets into these kinds of situations? Perhaps there was a time when I would be content with what I had, never seeking more, always content. How did I turn out like this? It isn’t too bad, all this seeking new and exciting things, looking for more when what I have is good enough. But it is dangerous, and right now I feel the danger.

I used to take comfort in the fact that I have someone to retreat to. Someone whose arms I knew would be there to gather me in whenever I needed the recluse. Who would hold me and whisper comfort and keep me safe. It was all I ever wanted, and when I had it, I treasured it. It was to me perfection then. All the beauty in the world rested in his arms. My safe haven, my absolute sanctuary. I needed nothing else.

Yet now I feel like I no longer need it. Having rested in that haven for so long has made me feel omnipotent. I feel like I need to go out and seek more. Seek what I cannot experience within that sanctuary. I feel like I need to seek my way out of that retreat. I am like a turtle peeking out of its shell. Like a frog seeking the way out of the well. I want to feel more, taste more, and see more. And so I peeked out, and I found so much.

I found a myriad of things awaiting me, and in that myriad, was one shining beacon that promised so much. Promised me excitement beyond myself. Promised me joy that I had never tasted. Promised me all I never knew I wanted as I rested in those arms. I found a new pair of arms waiting, stretched out and open, waiting for me to rest within. Within those arms, is not a haven, not a sanctuary, but a whole new world.

It entices, oh it entices. And I’m drawn closer and closer. But deep within me, is that part of me that still wants that haven. Still afraid to leave for fear that I might never have it again if I leave it. What happens if I leave it to enter that new world, and find that the world doesn’t suit me at all, and I’m scared and afraid and need my haven once more, and it just isn’t there anymore. Where do I go? What do I do?

This is driving me insane. Never before have I ever felt so torn apart. Then again, never before have I sought more beyond my sanctuary. This is so new, so alien to me. And that’s what’s so exciting.

I am torn.

* * *

I get mixed reactions from my friends when I tell them of my dilemma. Some frown and tell me that I shouldn’t even be caught in this. That I should be happy with what I have, since what I have is so good. I always smile weakly and tell them that sometimes not everything’s what it seems. Yes we have a good relationship. He treats me well, makes me feel safe, and does everything I could ever hope for. But has anyone ever thought that there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing? That somehow over the journey, I have gotten sick of everything. That I’m tired of everything and I want more, and he doesn’t have the capacity to give me what I want anymore?

My friends would look at me strangely, as though they’re faced with a different person, and in that moment, I know fully that I am a different person. They will tell me that I’m just going through a phase, and that it’ll pass, so I shouldn’t do anything stupid.

Another group of friends would tell me to take that plunge. Jump off the cliff they say. Experience for yourself that thrill and excitement that entails. I might never have a chance to experience it again. What else is life about, then to live through and see all sorts of things and have a chance to feel, touch, taste, smell and see everything? My life is mine, and they tell me that I should do whatever I want with it.

And they would tell me stories about themselves. Stories of all the things they’ve done and seen and felt, and that sudden urge of excitement will pull at me, like two wings straining to sprout from my back, waiting, waiting, for that moment when I jump off that cliff. The more they tell, the more I envision myself as them, doing what they did, seeing what they saw, and enjoying every moment of it.

And there’s someone waiting for me, to take me through all that.

Should I toss aside what I have known so long, to seek out what I think I want? Should I go from that pair of arms that is so safe, to that pair of arms that offer so much more?

I am still torn.

* * *

He’s always so nice to me, always being there for me. He does everything he can to make me feel comfortable and happy. He buys me flowers and gifts, he takes me out to dinner at an expensive restaurant, brings me on quiet night walks along the beach or through some park. We sit on the sand or on little benches, me settled in his arms, enjoying the serenity, enjoying each other.

Back then, that was all I ever asked for. Those little moments of bliss that made the world around me spin. I was happy, and it was enough.

Then came the times when I started to feel differently. When I felt his presence was an intrusion and not a welcome one. He would come along when I was with my friends, and I would feel obligated to entertain him when all I really wanted was to enjoy the company of my friends. I could never fully do that when he was around. It was great when we were alone, but with others around, he felt like sticky glue.

You see, my friends were the only people back then that brought me my excitement, and when he came along, he brought with him that shelter, that shelter that covered everything and blocked off everything else. I hated it, but I never said anything, for when it came down to just the two of us once more, I fell to that gentle serenity that washed over. I forgot all else.

But it had already started, my resentment, and there was no turning back from it. It grew gradually until I didn’t know what to do. I spent day after day fretting, night after night crying. I was lost. I just wanted to bury myself alive and be done with it. I found excuse after excuse to not see him, citing illness or a need to do something. He always took them amiably, which tore my heart and made my nights worse.

My friends, seeing me in such a bad state, brought me out to enjoy myself. That was when I met him. It was like serendipity.

He was so different. He exuded a sense of mystery. He drew me to him with his eyes that glinted in the light and that mischievous smile. He hinted at things that I’d never done before, seen before, felt before. I knew that he was different. In him I saw promises of things that I wanted. I knew I would never feel safe in his arms, but there was that hint of danger and risk that made him so enthralling. His were not the arms that would hold and comfort me, but they were the arms that would hold and lead me to what I always wanted.

And he wanted me, this girl that has never known so much.

And I wanted him so badly.

Yet deep within, I could not forget the other pair of arms. They beckoned and called, asking me to return to their safety. That they were all I needed.

I am torn beyond belief.

* * *

Time passes on, and I know I must make a decision soon. Find my way out of this painful situation that I put myself in. Sometimes I scold myself for being this way. Why must I do this to myself? I know what I want; yet I cannot bring myself to go for it. There’s no one I can talk to because no one would understand what I was going through. If there was, I don’t know him or her, and that doesn’t help one bit.

I drive myself crazy every day. I cannot concentrate on my work. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. My friends are worried about me. They tell me that I shouldn’t put myself through all this. They tell me that I should make a decision soon, before I drive myself over the edge. But still they pull at me from two sides. There’s one group, telling me to go back to what I know, the other, telling me to explore something new. They are no help. Not one bit.

And I have only myself to blame. I cannot blame my haven for all this. In fact, he is totally blameless. He is just a victim. What he is, is what he is, and he has done nothing that I should treat him so. My resentment at him was of my own making. Nothing he ever did deserves my resentment. It is my fault.

You see, it is times like this when I would run to him, and nestle snugly in his arms and feel all my worries dissipate. Listen to his words slowly soothe away my worries and my fears and let that serenity wash over me again. But now I am unable to do so. Doing so would mean I have made my choice, and I have not.

I am left alone in this, and it tears me apart. I feel like I am no longer capable of rational thinking. The two directions hover in front of my every waking moment, and haunt my dreams every night. I am torn and lost.

I need to find my way out.

* * *

The wind blowing at my face is soothing, and during this brief moment, I feel as though I have lost all my worries. I close my eyes and let it was over me. The feeling is fleeting and the weight of my decision begins its pressure once more. My eyes flicker open and I stare out at the beauty around me.

The sky is blue, and all around me I see tall buildings. The sun shines upon my face and I bask in its warmth. Yet I’m still weighed down. Perhaps I can never shake this off. Whatever I do, I know that somehow, I’d find something that I regret. No matter which choice I make, there will be something more that I want.

I can take the path of safety, walk back to those arms, and regret for all time all that I have never experienced.

I can enter that whole new world and find a new me, a new world to explore, and still regret what I have let go, feel sad for causing such pain on one who loves me so much.

Can I truly choose between those two? I do not know, and perhaps I never have to.

I look down and watch the people along the street. Do they suffer from the same things as I do? Have they ever found themselves in this kind of situation? If they have, I wonder how they got themselves out of it. Will they teach me how? I do not know. I doubt I ever will.

Two choices, two paths. Torn in two directions, I seek a way out. I have found it. I choose the third choice.

My name is Felicia, and I have found my way out. I choose death.

I take a step forward. I am no longer torn.

END