[ “forever I will move like the world that turns beneath me” ]
~ The Avett Brothers
My mother always told me I had an unusual soul, as she watched the tides of my expectations go high and then abruptly splash the shore. She often asked me to BREATHE and let go, count backwards from numbers I cannot fathom, whenever the absurd clouds of darkness hit the board.
So I sat down and counted ways each day, to quieten my mind, gulp the pain and throw it off the window. But, nothing I did, seemed to actually help me anymore. A bowl of stale sniggers crushed my self-worth as they passed through the door. Breathe, I would often instruct myself. ‘Let go, the flimsy souls. Close your eyes and let silence generously outpour.’
‘Nothing lasts forever and this shall too pass, like clouds on the waves’ I found myself murmur in my head like a maniac eachday. Hoping for life to become simpler while being exhausted by even the mere thought of existence amidst this pain.
Such a hypocrite I was like everyone else, right?
But as the days passed, it all started making sense to me. I soon stepped out of the bubble I always thought was there just to cage my dreams. I realised I was probably living a life that was never actually meant for me and how I had to kill my fallacious self first to actually be what I always wanted to be.
Despite being exhausted, my mother helped me discover, how I had this energy to exist, to live life and to accept that I may not always be perfect at it, to acknowledge the fact that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay and just be me.
This year, not only did I fall into the clutches of the darkness within me, but I also learnt how to get away from it. I accepted who I am and grew up from spilling my heart all over, to piecing it back together for the right ones with ease.
This year, though gradually, with eyes swollen in tyranny, I learnt broken is not always what they call full of beauty, and how my selfworth will never be measured by those with daft heads full of lies or their fallacious poetic bees.
I saw myself crunch, and wilt but then bloom out like lilies after the winter breeze. I felt myself finally feel free. This year, not only did I die to become the true version of ‘me’ but, I also rose out from the storms, a little broken from the edge yet ready to make my way through it and live.
( Illustration by TRACY J LEE )
[ I apologise for this amateur 6am scribble]