It was a pleasure to burn.
There was a certain pleasure in seeing things slowly darken up and crumble. With darkness in my raw-boned body, blood gushing in my sternly stubborn head, and my hands vigorously adding ruins of history to the slow and smoky fire. My eyes spark as for the brief moment it felt that everything that ever hurt me is completely over and done with.
"Even the moon goes through phases to return to full. Healing takes time". Countless hours spent in libraries perusing motivational books and memoirs. Another book, another page torn and thrown into the relentless fire. The answers I was looking for were nowhere to be found within the lines of those pages, but something made me wonder and believe that eventually I was going to stumble upon something different.
"Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom". I do not know what is worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to know exactly who you are, and feel alone. But why explore the universe when we do not know ourselves?
There is a certain beauty to the human mind; it had a vast space for memory storage, it made us curious and creative. Those were the characteristics that gave us advantage - curiosity, creativity and memory collaborated to invent an idea called 'the future'. And we do it effortlessly. We often find ourselves lost within the realm of the future and what it could possibly be hiding for us. It is not about looking forwards to the future as much as it is our continuous seeking to be better version of ourselves - to thrive, to grow and to be the persona we choose for ourselves. We are often too occupied with our intricate routines that we tend to overlook who we aspire to be, and this conflict between subconsciously thinking about the future and the overwhelming present drives us into a state of confusion, disinterest and sadness.
Healing is impossible in loneliness; it is the opposite of loneliness. Conviviality is healing. To be healed we must come with all the other creatures to the feast of creation. I was lonely, but that loneliness belonged to me. It is beautiful, it is endless, it is full and yet it seems empty. How the heart breaks up is overly talked about, but how the soul hangs speechless in the process is often missed.
They say that time changes things, but they did not mention that you have to change them yourself. We often feel tired, not because we have done too much, but we have done too little of what sparks light in us. We know we deserve better than where we currently stand but we are not willing to fight. You do not drown by falling in the water, you drown by staying there. It all begins and ends in your mind; What you give power to, has power over you, if you allow it.
I was constantly mistaken to be weak, but that us the irony; broken people are not fragile. It was not loneliness that I was concerned about, but rather feeling that I do not belong no matter what book I read or where I choose to live. With a heart pure as gold, my hands were black as coal from the ashes of all the bitter memories I desired to hold mightily.
I used to dream about escaping my ordinary life, but my life was never ordinary. As a child, I felt in my heart two contradictory feelings, the horror and the ecstasy of life. Silly of me, to think that I could absorb this life in one single sentence. I started to believe that life is meaningless altogether. Life is just a mystery and ultimately meaningless. The meaning is in the creation, and the creation is a human construct, and people keep making stuff up in order to get through life.
I know nothing and my heart aches. I am learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things that are not meant for me. Learning to be different. I have spent my whole life terrified, scared of what could go wrong. Things that might happen, things that might not. I hope one day I have the courage to run away from everything that makes me miserable.Hope has became my drug of choice, the most addicting one of all. I kind of miss myself, the way I used to be. I have learned a lot about being a friend when I was alone. In fact, somewhere within the silence of solitude the soul springs to life. I had to decide what I was going to do, and who I was going to be. I was standing there waiting, until I realized the person I was waiting for was myself. I have became the underdog of my own story, sitting among the crowds watching my whole world fall apart and all I could do is stare blankly.
Truth is, I am still learning how to go back and re-read my own chapters without feeling like I want to set all of my pages on fire. One of the greatest curses ever inflicted on the human race; Memory. It is both a blessing and a curse to remember. It is like once you get hurt, you build these walls around you that you think will keep you from getting hurt again. You will not let anyone pass them. You pass up good people and good opportunities because you are reminded of what happened to you. But you are not the only one hurting. You are hurting others, because they do not understand why they cannot be a part of your life. One day you are going to have to get the strength to let these walls down if you ever want to be truly happy again.
May you learn to forgive yourself for chasing after what could not be, for falling apart, for not being kinder to yourself. May you come to terms with yourself and embrace yourself entirely. May you find peace within yourself soon and light up a fire from within.
It is 7 minutes after midnight. I sign off the last entry in this journal and toss it into the eerily hot fire. Holding my head with my ash-dusted hands in pain firmly believing that tomorrow is a new day to write. A new page. A new journal. And a new fire.
