Endlessness is possibly a concept I have to grasp. Nothing ever really ends, unless Death truly stops time.
Life is an endless struggle and pursuit for endless wants.
Some struggles are smaller than others, while some are so great that they threaten to drown us. Some moments are quieter while others come at us suddenly; an unpredictable tsunami.
What can one really do but to just keep swimming?
Going with the waves and hoping they are the friends to lead you home. Eventually.
When someone hurts you, on purpose or not, it is said that chances are that someone is hurting too.
It is an insecurity, a hurt, some uncertainty that shines through in actions, words and general behaviour. Almost like a dog that bites the hand that feeds him because there’s a pain our eyes cannot see; out of protection and defence.
I have been thinking about this a lot. I believed this. Still do. Maybe I still do.
But I don’t understand how someone can go out of his way to antagonise another person. What’s the purpose? Wouldn’t there be an intention besides a personal hurt in his heart? Is it just out of cruelty? Does pure cruelty exist in another human being, or is that perspective completely bias because we can never fully understand the other side of the story?
Then, as a victim or if you view yourself as a victim, should you just forgive the other person? Can you forgive?
Can we measure who hurts greater? Is that ever fair, really?
Where can the line be drawn?
Sometimes I wish some answers are fixed. So I can simply learn and adapt, instead of pondering all the time.
Almost like a punishment.
I went for a casual dinner with a teacher I really respect, and halfway through, she asked me:
So what do you want to do?
There was a long pause. I started sipping my diluted iced lemon tea and then stirring and sipping again. My lips parted to say something but no words came. That shocked me to a certain degree, considering that I pride myself for knowing what I want in life. In my life, at least, no matter big or small.
But I had absolutely nothing to say.
I wanted to respond with:
I want to do what I want to do.
But what is it that I really want?
Woke up to fogged up windows with rain hitting against it; relentless. The room became darker than usual and it was all shades of blue; familiar to my own temperament. Had to force myself out of bed and peel away from the comforts of being cocooned. A sense of cool washed over me as my feet gently landed on the floor. I am not ready, but I am going to force myself to be anyway.
My usual route to school changed because of the heavy rain. Spent half the time avoiding puddles, floods and searched for shelter to shield myself from getting all drenched.
But the biggest change beyond time and physical distance, is my mind space.
With the rain drumming so loudly, outside of me and taking most of my attention, I felt so quiet and at ease. Today Mother Nature won my attention and the voices in my head shut up in defeat. My morning was not filled with worries, anxieties, possibilities, contemplation or general punishment.
I can be dangerous to myself, but not today, because today I am quiet, a safe space and an observer of life around me.
And that is something I have grown to be thankful for, since it does not happen everyday.
Why can’t I make up my mind?
Always in this state of fluctuation. Too many perspectives and voices in my head. Never a fixed answer.
It frustrates me and I have nobody else to blame but myself. Choosing to listen to these brainwaves and then living to regret them all.
But I can’t seem to change.
Somehow, I always end up thinking and feeling more for other people than myself.
And people take advantage of that, no matter how much they say that they truly love me.
People are born liars. And I know that all too well. After all, I will recognise my own kind right?
You never know what you miss until you encounter it again. Out of sight, out of mind until you become blind. Lost in the murky world of monochrome colours and preconceived assumptions. Self-destruction in ways of giving up hope and slowly spiralling out of control. Paradox of inner tension and outer slacking. A body sick of living.
I thought we were running on borrowed time. I felt it in my skin and bones.
Time past with busyness and absence. My skin grew cold. Your touch unfamiliar, unnecessary. Nobody really needs love for life to go on, as long as you learn to eventually love yourself. Or perhaps, learn to breathe with something constantly missing in your chest. A tiny gap between what you need and what you want.
It is possible.
I thought I was growing out of our love. We have moved from one point to another, grown and changed. With recent thoughts and a sense of loneliness that initially went ignored in my heart, I was drifting away. From everyone. From you. From myself. It was a ghost haunting my subconscious and spreading all through my body.
But this night, darkness found us comfort and each other. Bodies loose and heart spilling. Silence ran in the world. Our breath, voices whispering in gentleness. Your bare chest on my back. Your rough hands on my stretched thighs. Our fingers intertwined and backs twisted. Eyes meeting and rediscovering what we had and still have.
Never could I have imagined how much I can miss our humanness.
We laid as still as possible. Just breathing in the dark as light started streaming through the open window. Faith, trust and vulnerability our only companions. Peacefulness in embrace. Intimacy long overdue.
Thank you for reminding me that we are better when together. I thought we were lost, but you had me in your arms the whole time.
When am I being too weak,
And when am I just protecting myself from feeling unsafe?
Is there a distinction? Is there a right?
Or are these all just excuses made?