Henri Frederic Amiel:
“Women wish to be loved without a why or a wherefore; not because they are pretty, or good, or well-bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves”.
And so do men!
I remember how big and pretty you were. You were bright yellow with perfect angles. You had so much to offer and I was the one to want it all.
My screams and yellings never seemed to bother you! You were my sunshine, the first thing I saw in the morning. Also the last I saw at night, when darkeness fell upon you, turning you into a diformity that sometimes made me wonder if you were alive.
You kept me warm and dry during those rainy days and gave me shade when it was too hot to go outside. Your silence sometimes scared me; I was used to seeing you busy and noisy.
You saw me in my worst, the silent witness who never betrayed me. You hid me from the world so that no one would see me at my lowest.
I don’t remember when you started to crumble. I guess by then I was too busy with my life; hiding my own despair behind a facade, to think that this house that has sheltered me my entire life, could be losing its own facade as well.
Now that I think of it, I realize how sad it was, that only one of us was going to keep standing tall, while the other was getting ready to let go of the appearance. Suddenly, you were no longer available for me; I had to go find shelter somewhere else, where I could no longer hide.
As you were being given a new facade, I took mine down, showing the world the real me. It was painful and humbling, but not as painful as when I was told it was not only the facade you needed to be replaced, but that it was the entire foundation that needed to be taken down.
They always say that “if a look could kill!”, half of the mondial population will be dead! But what about silence? Once in a while, you will hear people wish for some. “If only I could get some silence!”. Give them a “silence treatment”, then ask them if they wish for more! Someone did you wrong? Remember! “Silence is the best revenge!” And why express your anger when”silence is the most powerful scream”? You are sad? Don’t cry, don’t you know that “silence is a person’s loudest cry”? What about that date that has been ghosting you? Well, too bad, silence can indeed break your heart!
In my perfect world, there are no leafblowers, no workers, no loud neighbors, and the list goes on. I will be at peace then. A pure delight! But put me alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for a few days, and I will be crawling back to town, to the very noise that I was running away from. Like most people, I crave for some silence, but not for too long, only when I need it I guess. Why? Because silence can sometimes be scary! And when I say scary, I mean dead scary! There is a difference between wanting to be left alone and finding yourself really alone, especially when there are no other lives involved. We might dread the noise, but there are times when silence happens to be more dreadful.
Nowadays, silence has become a luxury that not everyone can afford. Of course, unless you live in a semi-remote place or can afford to spend some time in a monastery or go on a silent retreat. “Silence is golden.” But ever wonder what it would be like to live in a perfectly silent world, where even sneezing would be considered a nuisance? Would our silent world be a peaceful one? And would that make us any happier?
What I truly enjoy the most about silence is when it creates comfort, not distance. Silence can be full of words, full of music and poetry. “Silence is a text easy to misread”. But when you sit with a person, and the silence between the two of you feels comfortable, how reassuring is that? To realize that you might have found true friendship (or love) in that person because “silence never betrays”.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder where you are! You left us unannounced, never giving us time to say goodbye. Are you the one who decided it was time to go? Did she announce herself or were you caught by surprise? You had been through hell but you seemed to have returned from it, giving us hope that you will be forever with us. The future seemed brighter, you were dreaming high. But you probably knew that the relief was temporary. That the next procedure was going to be your worst nightmare. It was way too drastic for you to endure!
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder how you feel? Are you better off being away from what ended up being a miserable life? Do you feel better now that you don’t suffer anymore? Are you happier to have reunited with your loved ones? Were they waiting for you when you got there? Did they greet you and wish you welcome? Or do you miss us, as we miss you? Do you look upon us, up above the sky and wonder what we are doing with our lives? Do our lives make any sense to you anyway, or are you just relieved to not be part of it anymore?
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are? Are you a star among the stars or just a plain spirit or none of the two? Are you the wind that blows through my windows or the hummingbird that flutters around? Or maybe that squirrel that tried so hard to get into the house? Twinkle, you took the shine out of us, pushing us to reflect on how life is ephemeral, and how we should have enjoyed you more than we did!
Tell me your vice,
Don’t be shy,
We all have one,
No one will judge,
I know I won’t,
Because if I did,
I would be a hypocrite,
Just one word,
Is all you need to write,
Even those who live by virtue,
Have some vices,
Because no one is perfect,
At least I know I am not.
Not every vice is immoral,
Some are just bad habits,
So go ahead,
Tell me what your vice is,
Just one word on the comment section,
Is all I ask!
“Stop looking at her like that! We all know that you dig her!” “Is it that obvious?” “Yes, it is! So stop!” That was my best friend making fun of my future husband, who wasn’t even my boyfriend back then.
Years after we got married, friends, who didn’t know us back then, will tell me from time to time how obvious it was that he loved me. Somedays I believed them. After all what we went though, my husband was indeed still there: telling me how beautiful I was; despite the wrinkles that have started to slowly crease their ways around my eyes and mouth. Making me laugh, especially when my spirits were down. Battling my battles, being my best cheerleader, my number one fan. Those days, all I needed was a glance at his face and I could tell that he indeed still loved me!
Other times I doubted them. What love? Where did they see it? What were they talking about? What could be left after all the fights we had, all the pain we caused each other? Wasn’t it obvious that there were as many remorses as there were regrets between us? How could they be blind to the emotional scars that were plastered all over our faces? Couldn’t they tell that when they were saying that it was obvious he loved me, all we were both wishing for, was to be away from each other?
And what about me, I wondered? Did they ever tell him that it was obvious I still loved him too? Was a simple glance at my face enough to make him believe them? Or was it the reminder of our fights that made him doubt them as well? Unless he, just like me, knew deep down that it was not about the pain or the regrets, but the battles fought together and the difficulties surmounted hand-in-hand that made it obvious that we indeed still loved each other!
I was my own ghost, but I wasn’t aware of it! I was haunting my life, instead of living it! Gliding in life, too scared to be scary, a mere spectator of my fleeting life. Stuck in limbo, nowhere to go, no-one to talk to. I needed to take action but I could not walk anymore. Every time I tried to scream, no sound would come out, and when it did, no one would hear it.
Then, one day, I came upon a mirror, but I didn’t recognize the person I saw on the other side. She looked like me, but she surely wasn’t me. I tried to smile at her, but my smile turned into a grimace. Tears fell down her cheeks. I was struck by the dark circles under her eyes, the hollow cheeks and the thin limbs. Still she looked like me, but she wasn’t me. I wondered what happened to her. What went wrong? How did she get there?
I could tell she wanted to get out of there. It was as if I could read her mind. She wanted to go back to being me, not this ghostly person that she had become. What have changed? “You have changed”, she said bluntly. She could also read my mind. “Your priorities have changed! You have lost sight of what mattered in life. You have grown, you have become one of them, an adult, a full member of society and you have been paying the price”.
“Joy”! I thought! A word I haven’t muttered in a long time. Where did it go? And Hope? Did I loose them on my way to adulthood? How do I get them back? I wanted them back. I needed them back! I remembered being full of life and hope, and fun. Those used to be my every day companions. But gradually they had disappeared; unless I was the one who got rid of them. But I was ready to welcome them back into my life.
I could feel life crawling back into my veins, my heart being filled with all kind of emotions I had not felt in a long time, my head pounding with million of thoughts. I was alive again. Tears were floating down my cheeks, but this time they were accompanied with laughs. I noticed that the other person was crying and laughing too, just like me. Maybe because she was me!
Life is like this blank canvas that I get to paint on every day of my life! The days I paint it with dark colors, it feels lifeless, gloomy, lonely and just damn scary! If I decide to add a splash of colors, then I turn it into a joyful and vibrant artwork!
Before starting to paint, an artist shall first plan, prepare and then paint. Sometimes the outcome will be exactly what he expected, other times it will turn out to be better than that or just bad. The good thing is that any bad job can be repainted over, the same way that when I make mistakes in life, I sometimes get to redeem myself by restarting over.
I am the painter of my destiny. Depending on days, when I draw, the lines can be linear, curvy or blurry. Then I get to fill them with the colors of my choice and add as little or as many details as I like. There are times when others will get to paint on my canvas, either because I let them or because I have no choice. I am also aware that the way I paint my canvas gives a broad perspective of my inner life and influences how people look at my work, thus at me!
It is up to me to be a good, if not an excellent, or a mediocre artist when it comes to my life. Because, the same way a painter can transform a conventional work into a masterpiece, (wasn’t Mona Lisa supposed to be a mere portrait?), I get to decide how my life will turn out to be. And who doesn’t want their life to be a masterpiece?
“I said I was sorry!
Didn’t you hear that?
Why aren’t you saying something?
Don’t you know that I rarely apologize?
Look at me and tell me you accept my apology!
Why are you looking away? Who do you think you are?
Hear me? I never apologize to anyone, so you should be happy!
Don’t you walk away from me! No one ever walked away from me!
You think you can just leave? What are you doing? Where are you going?
You are not going anywhere, are you? You can’t leave me! I said I was sorry!
You can’t do that! Don’t do that! Don’t be like that! Stay! Don’t go! Please don’t!
I don’t want to be left alone! You are better than that! Better than me! I am so sorry!
I never meant to hurt you! I will understand if you can’t forgive me! Just never be like me!”