They gathered around and met once more,
embraced and nipped by the night’s nostalgic air.
Some of them remembered, while the others forgot.
A number of them though wished dearly that someone far away
though not yet hear, would soon stay.
They grew up and life got real.
Perhaps it was a blessing that their laughs, smiles, jokes, and exchanges
were nothing but truthful, honest, and loyal.
Oh darling girl how lucky can you be! For you have friends whom photograph’s are no longer stills.
They’re living, they’re vivid, unmasked by life’s cheats, they are all behind you ready for the kill.
If you were to ask me how many times was I thrown with the question Why? Why the hesitation to be with someone else, why the seemingly dedicated preference to be with my sole self. I could literally not put a number on such an ignorant question.
I however can give you an answer. It is because I am immensely terrified of being hurt. I live constantly in fear and anxiety over being bothered by the severity of hurt and its consequential actions.
For from what I have seen is that it takes things away from you, minute and massive ones, those of which are essential and are not. It holds no hostages nor prisoners it refuses to save even the most insignificant of things. Stealthily it removes souls from you and the echo that resonates from the alarming emptiness becomes proof that it seeks no end and beginning all along.
I am not a fool mind you I do not relish over the fact that such perfect situations exist for the right kind of people— If they wished hard enough, it would be dumb to believe that.
For is it not the primary point of life in the first place?—That things like control seize to exist over such despite the dire need of human nature to have it. But then again maybe that is the supreme point of things, that though life does not allow us control over the majority of the circumstances that it has brought upon us, it does allow us to be obtuse over the right things.
So whenever someone tells me that I am not making sense, that such matters are inevitable and all you can do is forgive and forget. I would rather smile and choose to make sense of the most senseless of things.
Because frankly you don’t come out of a story as a hero when you take someone who has pained you back. There is no such thing as revelry in being hurt, there is however this bottomless pit inside of you that churns away these awful feelings of doubt, should have’s, could have’s, and would have’s.
If you are brave so as to speak and opt for this kind of fate, of this supposed fleeting moment of soul wrenching torture then darling I bid you good riddance. For no one built monuments with what has been left of the rubble, they came into existence from the detrimental memories of the harm that such ruins were made of.
What were we?
Were we part of a riddle, an act, a chapter, a phrase, or a lie perhaps?
Never could I fathom,
to put what we had into words,
for the truth was we lived in disparate worlds.—- I in my fears and you in your disguises.
Both of us seeking an out to our damaged voices.
But this I know,
As we both fed ourselves with lies
On what we were?
Basked in the ties of what has not yet o’er.
Fearful of admitting,
that what we had was beyond fleeting.
And through those deafening silences,
questions such as where does fate and serendipity deem on us bringing.
Alas! As I grow weary of my veracious reveals, and your unseeming chary deals.
And as I became ready for the big reveal, on this obscure momentary life deal.
We both moved forward and declared a truce,
accepting each other’s sad truths.
Circumstances changed, and I pulled the cord, and you looked on unnerved of this sudden discord.
At first i could not reason on how you passed through it without a day’s proof of a drain
But then I knew better and saw through your reluctance to create an eternal stain.
So I sit and thank you in silence
for letting me defy prudence.
Baning my mind to the point of clarity,
whereas bearing me forth witness to all the subsequent possiblility.
But most of all I am beyond thankful,
for the butterflies that you gave me were sightful.
Making me realize that maybe love part deux would not be as frightful.
For there was once a fearful girl,
but that has now turned into an abyss of a blur.
When I was little, I found joy in the most simplest of things,
from cute toilet knobs, to colored lamps that lit up the night’s perfect and mysterious beauty. I was thrilled with how the most beautiful streaks of light crept throughout the night from the most modest of shapes and figures.
As I wandered, with no clear direction, I found myself in and out of places both familiar and strange from the world I once knew about. I lived in fear and excitement for what the moment has to offer.
So I followed about, intoxicated with the idea that somewhere in the abyss a new world was about to unfold and change my entire being. I went in the nooks and corners, surprised to have found answers that I could not have fathom.
Still, I continued to search for answers and endure the uncertainties that they bring. Hoping that a search alone would suffice my restless soul.
There were times where I found myself exhausted and basked in my own skepticism. So I sat down, closed my eyes, looked around, and processed where I came from, where I have been, and where I want to go next.
So I continued to walk and found friends along the way.
filled myself up with life’s simplest pleasures, reminding myself to create a lightness and to not too take life seriously often.
As I slowly felt my journey coming to a close, I found myself deep in Prayer.
Asking for strength, courage, and wisdom in my current and future pursuits.
I laid my wishes and dreams on wooden blocks to remind myself to hold on, believe, and works toward the things that I believe in.
I left it with the thousand others, hoping that one day I can come back smiling, having accomplished them.
Or that I come back sit beneath the flowers and have that resolute feeling that they were not supposed to happen.
Because maybe just maybe there was a different but far better story yet to be told.