I don't quite know what to call it, I just really hate it.
the fig tree attempts to explain the explainable: a gnawing sense of emptiness that won't leave you alone
It’s a rite of passage for every teenage girl, a mandatory experience, what some may refer to as a ‘canon event.’ There will come a time when you feel an unexplainable emptiness, an emptiness that chews on you relentlessly. It’s rage and distraught and loneliness and nothing all at once. For child-me, this meant breaking plates to feel something (quite dramatic I am aware). For teen-me, this was screaming in the shower. For adult-me, it’s an insatiable craving for an outlet (whether that be binge eating or a quick smoke).
This rather irritating feeling has been the bane of my existence since age eleven. It’s also been the looming factor behind my anger issues. “Don’t talk to us like that,” my father would say during my meltdowns. This would only make me angrier, an anger that was unexplainable and looking back, unjustified.
Sometimes this bitterness would manifest in friendships. “Why does everyone hate me?” would be at the tip of my tongue. Of course, I must point out that I wasn’t always the problem. Often, it would be the cruel treatment of ‘friends’ that would quite literally drive me insane. This feeling, however, was unstable. One day I’d be giggling with my girls about the attractive boy in the year above. Another day I’d be closed off - I’d spent the night reflecting on how poorly they treated me one time. While it was an understandable thing to be upset about, the reasoning wasn’t. I wanted an excuse to self sabotage, to push people (albeit ‘fake’ people) away. I believed that the pain that would follow would finally make me feel. Maybe then the uncomfortable emptiness in my chest would cease to exist.
Fast forward to the pandemic, I woke up feeling rather depressed again. I mean, are we surprised? Then, a guy I was interested in proceeded to violently insult me for a good five minutes. I finally felt something. This only affirmed my immensely mistaken belief that pain was the cure to that undefinable feeling. Soon enough, I took this out in other ways I don’t feel particularly comfortable to talk about. But the stubborn bitch came back, gnawing at my mind and soul at an unprecedented rate.
At seventeen, I discovered a cure.
Distraction.
I tend to watch a film or read a book. Ideally a painfully unfunny comedy (think SNL sketch Bill Hader humour) or a period romance full of yearning. For instance, today’s cure was Pride & Prejudice [2005].
I remind myself how ugly cigarettes will make me. I am too pretty to be eternally damned with yellow teeth and musty breath!
If you’re muslim, listen up — Recite the Quran. Just do it. It helps more than anything. If you’re not, read a book. A book that makes you reflect on the pain of fictional characters, rather than yours.
Get your arse to the gym. It boosts your serotonin. I find that expressing my feelings into the gym is probably the only healthy ‘outlet’.
Touch grass. Quite literally. I don’t feel like going university and attending class. Sometimes I don’t. But I certainly almost always regret it.
This feeling is often likened to emptiness. I disagree — it is so much more. It is every emotion all at once, and nothing at all. I firmly apologise if my lack of emotion (a result of this undefinable feeling) is radiating through my writing. But you can witness it for yourself. There is so much feeling and emotion and expression. And there is none at all. May you all surpass this feeling and tell it to screw off. Maybe one day it’ll finally leave me alone.
— yours truly,
the fig tree
[ mediocre writing for mediocre souls ]
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going thru this rn i think this post was meant for me