Akane

Facing Life with Stoicism

Ever since I can remember, I've been the friend who never flinches. The one who stands still while others jump in fright, the one who remains calm amidst chaos. My friends often express their astonishment at my seeming invulnerability to fear or distress. They look at me in bewilderment every time I shrug off situations that would normally induce panic or tears in others. "How can you not feel anything?" they ask. Each time, I find myself pondering the same question. Have I mastered some elusive art of detachment or am I simply numb to life's trials? In many ways, I've come to be seen as an enigma, a riddle among my peers. Each time we encounter a daunting situation or an emotionally charged event, their eyes drift towards me, gauging my reaction. It's almost as if they're seeking confirmation that it's okay to be scared or upset. But invariably, I provide no such reassurance. My countenance remains unchanged, my emotions seemingly absent. I don't cry, I don't react; it's as if an impenetrable wall has been built between me and the world around me. But to label this indifference would be a misinterpretation. It's not that I don't care or that I lack empathy. On the contrary, I've often felt a deep connection to the pains and joys of those around me. I've just developed an uncanny ability to regulate my emotional responses. Some might call it resilience, others might term it stoicism. But I often wonder, where does this come from? Is it innate or a product of my experiences?

I believe part of my demeanor stems from sheer exhaustion. Life, with its unpredictable twists and turns, has thrown its fair share of challenges my way. Each struggle, each heartbreak, and each disappointment has left an indelible mark on my psyche. Over time, after enduring countless ordeals, it's as though my emotional reservoir has been drained. It's like I've been on a roller coaster for so long that the sharp turns and steep drops no longer affect me. I'm simply too tired to react, too spent to feel the highs and lows. Perhaps another part of it is a conscious choice. In a world riddled with uncertainties, where circumstances can change in the blink of an eye, I've learned the value of emotional economy. Why expend energy on things beyond my control? Why let external factors determine my internal state? By not reacting, by maintaining an equanimous disposition, I've found a way to conserve my energy, to focus on what truly matters. It's not apathy; it's a calculated strategy for self-preservation. And then there's the possibility that I've simply become adept at shielding my true emotions. Maybe the tears and fears are there, lurking just beneath the surface, but I've learned to hide them, to put on a brave face. It's a protective mechanism, a way to avoid vulnerability. If I don't show the world my weaknesses, then perhaps I won't get hurt. Or at least, that's what I tell myself. Regardless of the reason, I've come to accept this aspect of my personality. While it might seem odd to some, it's become a part of who I am. I don't judge myself for it, nor do I wish to change. Life has taught me that emotions, though powerful, are transient. They come and go, ebb and flow, and sometimes, it's okay not to feel. It's okay to be the calm in the storm, the rock amidst the raging sea. In the end, we all have our ways of dealing with life's challenges. For some, it's expressing their emotions openly; for others, it's finding solace in solitude. For me, it's standing strong, unyielding, and undeterred. Not because I don't feel, but because I've chosen to face life on my own terms, with grace, poise, and an unwavering spirit.