Somebody told me that it was important to understand ourselves before we could attempt to understand others. I think I’ve lived my life by inhaling fabricated truths enough to blend my coffee breaths with it. Words didn’t break me like how sticks and stones could, but at times it could be fate worse than a regretted tattoo – a permanent scar under the skin, visible to nobody but your own. I think it’s magical to witness when two people are able to exchange their tales, or better yet take their hidden demons out on a play-date. The world functions through norms and wrecks itself in its pursuit, but just like the unnoticed rising and setting of the sun, something so common and ignored actually adds up to why we’re here.
Certain anxieties like bullet holes to a steel-plated wall reverberate voices that sound like your own but aren’t. They can keep you up at night, until it steals you off the hours of the day that should have been a brand new page on your disheveled book. But we can never control the shadows that lurk and sequester themselves in corners we’ve involuntary crafted through time. I wish I could keep count or validate which of the connections I’ve made in the past and still have will make sense tomorrow. It is a fright to embrace here and now, because even as the clock strikes the next day, here and now only means being stuck in the moment that will eventually fade.
I look way ahead until the disillusion of an abyss frightens me. But I’d rather look ahead than to tame my walls for what’s in these moments. Moments are fleeting, but the verity of their power to destroy is what will always remain. Various truths and acceptance come with terms and conditions that won’t always agree with us. It’s like forcing a sack of new truths into a peanut-sized hole that is our mind. Our minds are like caves – some have open doors, some require some sort of password. Their existence is known to us, and by some. But whatever lurks inside is a mystery, a risk that nobody dare takes.
I think it’s a wonderful thing to witness two broken creatures in unison, than to resolve to acceptance just for the sake of. There’s always something beautiful in broken things, especially when they’re the two pieces that equate to a whole.