This was written about eight months ago, but I thought to put it up because it will give the woman that is this space curves. Also, the stories of the ashes, as much as the story of the skies, deserve to be told.
She said ‘oooh, I know the sun must set to rise’
Sometimes, I sit and wonder when the last time was when I laughed from the inside out. I wonder when last I laughed and didn’t have a ‘but’ at the back of my mind. I wonder if that’s what being an adult is about, that I now have to learn to make ’half laughs’. I’ve read a couple of poems that would describe this state, but you know how it is with poems, as tee puts it, ‘Poets are selfish. Why have something so clearly beautiful to say and then hide it in words that frustrate everyone else?”
I wonder what happiness is for me. There was a time when I had three precise answers to, “what do you care about?” They were: ‘my friends and family, my education and my spiritual life.” I guess then that if anything went wrong with any of these I would be unhappy. 2011 came along and undid an element of all this, brick by painful brick. All the things I thought I would die without-the relationships and the people and the ‘education’-are gone, and I am still breathing.
There is something I have never enjoyed and it is this: ‘without soul’. I do not like breathing ‘without soul’. I do not like studying ‘without soul’. I do not like socializing ‘without soul’. It is unlike me, and it makes me sad that I have been wallowing in a ‘without soul’ state for so long.
I don’t want the relationships I lost back. I don’t want my friends’ unhappiness deleted. I don’t want rejections to turn into acceptance. I just want a second. I want new healthy relationships. I want my friends, with their scars, to work towards their happiness, steadily, and that happiness stops taking its time approaching them. I want a new chance at the education I wish for myself.
I have learnt that I am stronger than I had credited myself with before. One thing saddens me about the way I have worked through this trough though- that I have not managed to be happy despite what is happening around me. I do not like that I have been complacent, yet I do not know how not to be. I have always thought it an insult to the people with true problems, not the doll-house issues that weigh me down, to complain. I do not like that it has made me a tad bit less social and this much more withdrawn. I do not like that there is a recklessness that has subdued me, continues to choke me, refuses to let me go.
It fascinates me how little the things that used to be the centre of my life matter anymore; how small they’ve grown through the eyes of my adult soul. I don’t mind growing up- embracing the grace of an adult versus the grief of a child. There’s only one thing I continue to hope I do not have to give up to grow up- and that’s laughing from the inside out.