It was till late I was of the belief I had a Dissociative Identity Disorder. I was not always sure what I really wanted until I found myself chasing some other goals, traveling different roads.
Thoughts were like those drops of dew which slipped off the leaf, merged to make it denser and held itself long enough onto the edge. But it lost its existence as soon as it fell off the edge.
I hold no shame in accepting I have had my own perceptions getting dirtier or cleaner with time.
As I’m growing old to find myself closer to the realities that do change with changed lenses, I find what doesn’t kill you is a myth.
There is life. There is death. Everything in between is either Love or a Myth.
No, I don’t have a Dissociative Identity Disorder. I now feel nothing more strongly than the coexistence of two women inside me.
One survives backstage. Visible to quite a few. Always drowning. Always panicking.
Abandoned, Rejected, Disappointed!
She is hopeless. She is helpless. She knows the world is not a nice place to be. She gives up quite frequently. She sees the world burning with self-made hatred, grudges, and regrets. Her soul cries for the peace to be taken care of individually.
But then there is her counterpart. She appears on the front stage. She is what the world sees. She keeps holding the hands of her coexisting partner. She keeps her from drowning. She wears the smile on her face as an armor. She fights back. She rebels. She keeps the hope alive. She knows the world is not a place to be, she knows peace is expensive.
Like a jigsaw puzzle, she keeps trying what fits the best in life. She coexists with her drowning partner.
I’m not a dual personality. I’m the behavioral result of what changing realities of the world expect. I find my way to happiness by rerouting my ideas about happiness from time to time.
After all, survival is not of sheer importance, living is.