Shadows of difference: 6. The Weight of Misunderstanding
This is my story. The figure in this artwork is me, hunched over, burdened by something I can’t escape. It’s not just a weight I carry; it’s the weight of being misunderstood, of having my essence judged, weighed, and twisted into something that doesn’t belong to me. Each step I take, each word I speak, adds more to this invisible load.
With every new relationship I make, with every look I get, the weight grows. It’s as though the more I try to connect, the more I become a vessel for others’ expectations and judgments. I carry it because I must—because I’m still human, and I still hope for something more, even as my energy depletes with each passing day.
But it’s not just external pressure that weighs me down. It’s the toll from within, from my very essence, my body, my genes. The sickness, the mental struggles, they only add to the burden. It’s like the weight grows from the inside out, like every part of me—from my cells to my thoughts—is built to carry this never-ending load. And the more I struggle, the heavier it becomes. The disease, the mental problems, they seem to make me different, make me sick, make me a problem to be handled from every corner.
The symptoms—anger, the desire to cry, the nausea, the vomiting—are all reminders that the weight is not just emotional, it’s physical. I can’t escape it. I speak my mind, but it feels like it’s never right. I stay silent, but the silence eats at me. No matter what I do, nothing ever seems to change. It’s as if this was foretold from the very beginning—that this weight, this fight, would be my life.
This artwork captures the constant pressure I feel from all sides—from within myself and from the world around me. It’s a burden that keeps growing, pushing me to the edge, but I keep moving forward, holding it, even when I feel like it’s too much to bear. Because, somehow, I still carry on, even when everything inside me feels broken.
