I close your heart. I stitch you back in a same haphazard way I do almost everything in life. The same way I knocked down every clumsy fragile landmark that could have actually helped me at the end.
From your mouth I have come to know that my hopes are tied to the throats of my saviors. That you are disgusted as you see me sitting on top of sleepless nights as I help myself with another serving of self-pity that I won’t be able to digest. That I laugh a little too long at the every joke that the world plays on repeat, all the while the cruel thread that I am I cut the skin, I cut the voice, I cut the air.
“this what i am, change me in an easy way, see this is how i am hurting, why won’t you look at me when you said you wanted was the real me”
I say as I try to crawl back into the hide of your love.
“i will stitch you back, if i have hurt you. if you want to hear goodbye, i will say it a thousand times. please, please stop crying. please for once hesitate before you ask for the door out. ask for once if it was easy to take in your sorrows, your demons, your cold shoulder. ask for once how i have fared, how i have come this far, how am i letting you go, letting you be, after loving you so badly. “
The wind is picking up. The white sand unlike water sinks everything too slowly. And so the shade less trees of eucalyptus become shadows that I learn to love. They become compass that knows no direction, but just piece this world to hold, the silent assurance that I am not yet lost, though my eyes can’t tell.
The wind is picking up. In the middle of this small storm, my careful hands writing the date on black board suddenly realize the need to be held. And so I fold and create a crease on another part of my face- the part that shows my heart too easily. Someone yells out my name and unknowingly they moor me to another violence, another need that I don’t want to carry in me.
matter, substance, meaning… as my vocabulary expanded with such words, i knew, i had an inkling that this is how i would be disillusioned, with such small words i would be driven to despair.
i would find there is another face behind every smile, and that some of those upturned lips are just empty coffins. a smile so sad, a wordless lie so easily becomes the most normal thing.
but do i even want to know who lives behind such elaborate masks? do i care to know how they breathe? do i want to know who breathes in me? or whether anyone really care about me?
i knew that now, given that i have learnt to ask all the questions whose answers can’t be verified, living and trusting was bound to become harder. now that i knew that i am not capable of knowing myself, seeing my reflection was bound to get painful and confusing. confusion is such a small word for what life does to us. all the small words that are easily said than meant- i hope i forget them before i forget myself.
those who spent their lives wrecking their hands to mould me into something better, tried fruitlessly to break me without pain, to break me and make me into something that would be accepted by this world. they showered me with love so i won’t know, won’t remember how much it pained me or how much it hurt them to have gifted me this painful self-critical view of myself and this world.
while they are growing old, weak and distant my love for them looks like a failed seed that never grew nor flowered. the years that i spent with them has made me ungrateful. i have become the fish that never thanked the water that kept it alive, thinking that is what water is meant to do.
with time as a fail to become what i thought i am, as i realize that doing or even knowing the right thing to do becomes more impossible as you get to know this world, i begin to understand the enormous love they must have had for me to hold my hand and walk with me in a world that they had never seen only for my sake, knowing that their courage and their tears are destined to be forgotten (or worse- questioned).
and my love? my love, it grows in opposite direction of sun, my love for them grows into the soil my heart in a world where they won’t see and won’t know. i will remain cruel and indifferent even in my own eyes. so i hide my muddled feelings and walk around those who have made me what i am whatever that may be.
shadows of evening are still in my room the morning rays, the flickering light bulb, your laughter, they don’t do much.
cause this life of mirrored sunshines and smiles makes me feel nothing. there is something wrong with my heart which you might have known all along.
i toss another piece of me into the ocean. it is one other piece of me that you will never see, will never have again. you hold my hand and tell me what i have thrown away was too difficult to find in this world, that it was your most favorite thing about me.
i want to cry and apologize to you but i sit there feeling relieved now that I have one less thing to lose. there is something wrong with me to not want your kindness and your love. it is not your fault dear.
again they will forget all that they promised they would never forget.
they talk of hobbies, talk of news, talk of things that are easy to agree upon. they talk about breaking down walls at lunch and stay awake at night getting rid of every part of themselves that could spoil this love.
they tell themselves that this time they will want less, expect lesser, and love as little as possible they try to love with their masks on hoping that it would be easier, but knowing all the while that it won’t be.
The trees are alive today. They ask me to sing them to sleep for the last time. I sing for hours but they refuse to close their eyes.
They ask me how I have been, not waiting for my answer, in one breath they ask about the words they don’t understand, ask me about the days I do not remember anything about (there are so many days I have no memory of while I can’t forget the days I really want to forget), about the rain that has left us long ago.
Their love for this world that they do not understand- makes me jealous, makes me wonder, if I could love also this world as much as I want to if I knew a little less, if I gave up this human heart that knows nothing but to steal and plead, to take away and bleed. But if I knew how to give up myself for my greater good, I would have done so long ago.
I can only stay selfish, act better than what I am, sing songs to the trees that will soon be killed for my sake.
I think of the clothes that are too tight or too loose for me, of my skin that doesn’t like me the way it used to. How the mirrors in my home are hidden by the growing towers of books. I wonder what this says about me? I think of the fear that I feel when I am alone, the fear that I feel when I walk into happiness. I think of the kinds of fear that fill my heart. I count them for a long time but nothing happens when I finish counting. I wonder if knowing myself is really the first step to solving my life. Do I want anything to be solved? I count the people that who no longer speak to me and half way through I remember that it was me who had thrown them away first. Silence is my weapon, not theirs. I realize I need to always hold a grudge against someone to live with strength. I wonder when this strength became so important to me. I wonder when this love that felt like a lemonade in summer actually became a commercialized product with an expiry date stamped on it before it even reaches our hands. I think of my skin by which I am stuck to a world like this. I wonder why I pretend to be better than this world by saying such stuff? Why am I so into acting all deep and philosophical? I wonder why I love to call myself broken even though I hate to be seen so? Don’t misunderstand me. I do not want answers. Answers are painful and pointless, answers are a tasteless end to the struggle that otherwise makes my heart bleed colors.
hello? can you help me? can you tell me which way to go, which part of me to burn to reach the dumping ground where lay all the skins that humans have ever shed?
i have been living in my dreams for quite some time, where i am the old-me surrounded by my old-family, old-friends, old-strangers.
dreams that i can no longer have, now that i have been led back to reality, now that i am almost sane. i realize i am missing the life that never was. medicated consciousness is not enough to make me forget all that i should not remember.
i have heard that here i would find the lifeless skin of mine- the ‘me’ who never knew what lacking is. want to join me? never mind. i was not looking for company anyway. thank you for not helping, for telling me to grow up. thank you for making reality more disturbing than it already is for me.