there was often an inkling; an old nagging feeling that my life was not being lived to it’s extremities – to it’s potential. i’d watch was others around me swung with sturdy grace from vine to vine. as they plunged their bodies off unknown cliffs; and gurgling water – they seemed so ready, to be swallowed whole.
people my age, they began settling into seemingly steady lives, with secure office jobs providing them with beyond their basic necessities. nestled in a cradle of warmth and comfort, there was little they seemed to lack. gowned with an array of garments fit for only the prime and proper. there was also the peculiar scent of pretence, they wore loosely around their necks. which made me wonder why; since everything on them had always been so well fitted, so flattering; moving across their every nook and cranny.
matters had never appeared more put together, than it did; on the surface. in sheer distance, the blurring of ideals wept into complete disillusion. at a glance, there was little to consider about a person apart from what we bore witness to. judgments secured, solely from one’s physical endowments, oblivious to any internal glitches.
how different our perceptions would be, if we knew the hidden parts of them; worn scars running down their insides. their journey to where they were, their brewing uncertainty for the future. their longing; what they pined for. their losses; their lives once shaken with unbearable grief. the dark bits of their soul, despite an outwardly expression of containment and content.
hold on to that desire of being awakened through this passage of time. our time on earth, is not infinite but certainly carefully measured by our maker. remain grounded in blind faith; of this sufficient span and your abilities and gifts, to make good of what there is. heed on, with a spirit of gratitude for all that is well and smooth. yet, do not attach yourself to these moments for they are passing as we speak. be here, for this moment. present, and awake.
there was so much that could not be released. time began to lose it’s momentum, minutes fell quickly into days; which soon accumulated into piles upon heaps, of years. suffering slipped into the simple disguise of wild attempts at making better, making good.
retracting old habits, sworn into never allowing ourselves to thread similar paths. what is it about our inherent inclinations towards safe-keeping only the battered memories. we recall, with such gust the awful throwing of cling and clatter; around the room. the metallic taste, welling up inside my mouth. spitting, till it came out clear; there had to be no trace of red for it to be safe. clear mucus, sweat; streaming down my chin. my clothing soiled with cries for help, how they stuck to my chest, around my sleeves; the moisture cooling my skin; like menthol. being 5 and looking out my window, watching the moon seek it’s hideout from peering eyes. and then, there was yelling right through my ears, i felt its tremor set a chill in my bones. there was not much blood that night, just the dragging of my hair, scalp feeling the hardness of cold tiles; my spine curling towards my belly. there is so much i cant leave behind.
a stranger, whom I know a limited well of information about; looks me in the eye. he does not mean to pry, and does not do so with force nor sly intention. approaching with steady caution, he maintains remarkable tact through his thoughtful speech; as he asks ‘what makes you feel uncomfortable about it?’ I understand, in absolute clarity the context of his question. as i begin to brace my thoughts, in a slow stutter, leaving my lips in mumbles; crumbling. it feels, like the shattering of sugared glass. a brutal, betrayal my words begin to expose.
I want to tell him everything. the broken inside of me; the parts of me so lost, in blind-chase for iron will. in an attempt to find the words, i feel. I embark on this pathless route, towards the faithful. loyalty, is important and respectable. nauseating guilt, rises to the surface. clouding the brims of glass cases, and staining areas; previously untouched, and hidden.
the life of comparison and senseless competition, is a one apart from peace and compassion. should we, choose to conclude the sheer lives of others; as free from sin, and basking only in freedom and glamour – is the aching inability, to empathise with both the external, and ourselves. one is never simply, incapable of empathy, understanding nor acceptance. rather, it is the negotiation between our souls and self consciousness- that renders our incoherence in seeing, through tainted glass; the lives of others.
we tend to wear our thoughts thin, in criticism for another’s behaviour, personality, doings. little knowing, that what we claim to be so critical of, is logically what we fear ourselves from becoming. these traits, and innate characteristics of another; is something we see inherent within us. our subconscious settings, convince us of the possibility of these ‘negative’ traits, flourishing and relishing in any opportunity, present.
walk, yourself out
of this wishful,
sling, the red cape of
shame – over your back
as you turn towards
the closest, fire exit.
abusing, and then
misusing; is all that will
continue – should you
decide, not to extinguish
this violently, growing
a comprehensive urge, to unearth all that is found within; into expression. our wriggly movements, the second we flinch and freeze; are incidents too telling of our internal turmoil. often, more than what we perceive them to be. what we once formed, within our heads; into incoherent sentences, found an escape – an outlet. our fingertips, hostile nudges, rolling glances and crumpled frowns. language, encompasses a physical form through our bodies. it’s way of expression, a universal knowing; a shared fable.
a stitch, began simply as a wandering ache. a soft, gentle nudge of a pressure point. darting across plain fields, in a manner of short attempted strokes. paced with regularity, neither too rapid nor slow. running it’s length from split seconds, soon; into half minutes. it’s intensity deepening, propelled by the blue wonder inside your head.
dreams of my own, overwhelmed with the blood and guts of another. a loved one, closest to my heart, not as I recall. an unspoken discomfort, assaulted my subconscious senses. despite the deepest slumber in days, and perhaps this was why. my body, immersed in a weary state of both fatigue, and emotional despair. flailing my arms, amongst other loose limbs in frustration. a temporal state of steeping impatience, for what was con-currently running it’s course. my dark dreams, leaped at this chance in this unforgiving attack. unconcerned with it’s consequence, or effect on my being.
fear, is not to be shamed. it is nobody’s sin to be fearful, to be afraid of the dark, monsters beneath beds, horror movies or soggy cereal. these eventually slide, downward into a slippery spiral. the list, seeks no end. sooner than later, we begin counting the steps we take; being afraid of milk going sour an unlocked door. fear is not simply a stranger to us, but the rival; an enemy; the evil twin of the two. a step into the dark; fear is unwanted.
we have been conditioned to believe, and with such stubbornness; that fear is a weakness and must cease all existence in our lives. in order for us to function, to persist in this continuous cycle of life. as a dire longing, to exist; we attempt to cast these grave fears, out of our lives; and into the wild.