It definitely wasn't the most ideal of times for four voices to suddenly decide to have a meeting in my head just when I was about to sleep. It was already late, and I'd really wanted to be able to sleep straightaway -sometimes, I would exhaust myself out just to be able to sleep when my head hits the pillow. But no, they insisted. And I was forced to listen.
At times, they torment me. They remind me of how much they miss her, the girl I was back then. The one with the heart wide open and a mind which shimmered with fresh glitter. They make me wonder if she's still here, and one of those voices, defending me, would say, 'Yes, of course. You could still bring her back if you want.' To which every particle in me would rock in longing.
I seek the ways, but another voice lets me know that it feels a little ridiculous. How, I'm not quite sure. But they speak and continue speaking, and it just drives me up the wall.
I remember the kind voices. So I reach out and call softly, 'Come back.' They drift towards me, like fragments of some memory, and stroke my hair. I rest in their touch and loosen up. But then they're gone.
I know I'm different. Hell, who stays exactly the same? But what I'm searching for is, for better or for worse? I look, really look, and see so many things to be appreciative for. And I really want to live up to that.
But still, they say, "What happened to her?" And I feel like replying, "Well, I don't really know how so many people haven't noticed, but we exist only from moment to moment. The scene changes, and yes, your body and soul might be still intact, but you're no longer the same -no matter what you think. Your old friends? Our names and looks might have been retained, but I have come to realise, we are not the same people who had once met. The only difference being the degree in change."
"Even though we change and we're all finding our own place in the world, we all know that when the tears fall or the smile spreads across our face, we'll come to each other because no matter where this crazy world takes us, nothing will ever change so much to the point where we're not still friends."
— Maria Robinson
That's the only thing: deciding to stick to one another no matter what. And I've just very recently learnt that this isn't something that you promise in the beginning of your friendship or relationship or any 'ships' with any other person. It's deciding every moment to be there for one another. Every moment; or at least every other moment because you probably do get tired of same conversations over and over and over again?
I'm not really one to talk and inspire 'ships'. So many times I just don't know how to continue sailing, the engine dies and I (we? Another thing which I have never been sure...) allow it to drift around till it sinks. Well, not always. But there's such a thing as 'trying too hard'; and in my search to rise back up, I was told this:
"Your work is not to make it happen; your work is to let it happen."
— Abraham Hicks
I've risen again, don't worry. But skies are endless and there's still room for more. And after all the turning and restless tossing, I would get frustrated and (if I don't decide to turn on the lights and continue reading my book just to get rid of those voices and make myself regret it the next morning when I try to get up) do a mental yell at them to be silent. That, which I hope that more people will learn (because many never seem to do. Learn that yelling never helps. Never. Temporary, maybe, but your problem still haven't been solved.) doesn't work. Like children, they're meek for a few seconds. Then one pokes their head back in and looks around. 'Coast is clear,' it whispers, and the rest gush back in.
So I decide to ignore them and soon I'm fast asleep.
ps. There's a sense of satisfaction in being able to write again, something which I felt like I haven't been able to for a (albeit short) while. I'd realised that I haven't been able to truly enjoy stories for a (longer) while. What with all the analysing and 'looking at the wider picture' I had been doing, stories just somehow didn't (couldn't) absorb me in the way they used to be able to. I wasn't sure if that's a good or bad thing, but I decided that what I'm going to strive for is some balance. Balance between being able to enjoy a good story and also be able to realise how it looks from a step back. :)
“I don’t know if I continue, even today, always liking myself. But what I learned to do many years ago was to forgive myself. It is very important for every human being to forgive herself or himself because if you live, you will make mistakes- it is inevitable. But once you do and you see the mistake, then you forgive yourself and say, ‘Well, if I’d known better I’d have done better,’ that’s all. So you say to people who you think you may have injured, ‘I’m sorry,’ and then you say to yourself, ‘I’m sorry.’ If we all hold on to the mistake, we can’t see our own glory in the mirror because we have the mistake between our faces and the mirror; we can’t see what we’re capable of being. You can ask forgiveness of others, but in the end the real forgiveness is in one’s own self. I think that young men and women are so caught by the way they see themselves. Now mind you. When a larger society sees them as unattractive, as threats, as too black or too white or too poor or too fat or too thin or too sexual or too asexual, that’s rough. But you can overcome that. The real difficulty is to overcome how you think about yourself. If we don’t have that we never grow, we never learn, and sure as hell we should never teach.”
—Maya Angelou
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