Maybe the hardest thing a person has to do is to say “The End”. The end to something you see is not right, to something that makes you feel uncomfortable, or to something you clearly cannot change no matter what you do. But some of us are built in a way that we keep running into the same wall, holding on and pushing forward, motivated by memories of how things once were, or how we imagine they could be again. Yes … but no.
This year I already put an end to a few things and chapters in my life - some of them lasted for many years, and I had never imagined they would simply stop existing, both in the direct and in the figurative sense. Do I feel better? Definitely not. I feel a bit guilty, as if I missed something important. But when something loses its meaning, it really does lose its meaning, and the image of what is “missed” is nothing more than an illusion, a pink castle in the clouds.
Why now? Simply because too many things had piled up, and there are still quite a few more, both in my professional and personal life, that have been dragging on for years. The last time I cleared my life like this was ten years ago, but I didn’t finish everything back then - and over time, plenty of new “old” things have piled up again.
In such moments, I think of my father - what he went through, what he experienced. And strangely enough, the more time passes, the more I understand the things he did. I see it because I am like him - with similar thoughts and feelings, the same actions and mistakes. Yes, maybe I am a better version, at least more self-aware and able to watch and analyze - but still the same person in many ways.
Because of all that, only a month ago I finally found the courage to read what he had written in his "The Seeker of Feelings" book. Many others have read it before me, but probably not in the way I could understand it. It turns out he started writing it at exactly the age I am now, and with breaks, it took him a few years to describe what he wanted to say. I admit, I was afraid of what I might discover about him - or rather, what I might discover about myself. And yes, I can see how everything he went through could reappear in my own life in some form, shaping my reactions and actions. With every memory, I understand more and more why he said a certain word, made a certain gesture, or took a certain decision.
Even for those who know me, it might be a surprise that I am an "Extroverted Introvert". I love talking to people, sharing in their happiness or problems, helping with whatever I can. But for my own matters, I like to be alone - with myself, or with my “virtual self” in my mind, with whom I discuss, analyze, and sometimes argue. It’s not that I shut people out - it’s just easier to talk to someone who will truly understand me. That’s my way of dealing with pressure: sealing myself inside, to the point of denying and forgetting everything outside. Then I can step out again, moving forward, leaving my emotional baggage locked away in a dark room where no one else has access.
Sometimes, however, the dome cracks before it is sealed - and it’s usually because of people close to me, personally or professionally. Then, outwardly, I become angry, sharp, and sarcastic about things I find pointless. But inside, I am deeply sad - sad that I was misunderstood, sad for myself because once again I ignored my own needs, set aside my dreams for the sake of something or someone else, and no one valued it the way I thought they would.
If there’s one thing I’ve always regretted in such moments, it’s that I acted based on conscience, honesty, and morality. To avoid hurting anyone. To give freedom. To help without expecting anything back. To hope with the hopes of others and to celebrate their successes as if they were my own. I try to see from the other person’s perspective, to help however I can, to keep my word even when it leaves me unprotected. But in the process, I always forget that people have different ideas about truth, trust, honor, and fairness. About promises. About the fact that there are others with their own feelings and wishes.
And finally, for those who read this far - here’s the answer to the obvious question: “Why on earth am I even writing this here, in the noisy marketplace of Internet?”
Because this is my confession. About past, present, and future actions. About mistakes, whether intentional or not. About choices and feelings. I’m closing the dome now, with everything inside. Let the memories stay in the past - where they belong.
© 2025 Nikola Vasilev