i feel liberated. almost as if i were sysiphus and the boulder has finally stopped on top of the hill, as if i were atlas and the burden of earth is has slid off my shoulders. as if i were Punho and Sassui is lying in my arms safe and sound without a scratch to her being. As if i were Umer and Marvi has successfully crossed the river, alive and well, to be mine forever. As if i were the smoke off a cigarette butt, finally released into air, freed. As if i were the sprout struggling to break away the hard seed, then the hard earth, to finally breathe the sun. Like a thought thats been stuck inside the unconscious, peeking out in reflections, never fully revealing its true self, has finally spread its wings and taken flight out of the confines of the mind, into the realms of consciousness. I feel at peace.
A part of growing up means facing your fears, rushing out of your comfort zone and taking the impact of the consequences full square in the chest. head high, arms wide step up and take the wave of chaos that your ripple created right in the face. Thats when you know youve grown up. And thats what I’m trying to learn and understand. The things you did, your past, your mistakes they ll make a part of you that will stay in the space time continuum forever. There is no going back, no turning the clock. The only way to live with them is to live without regrets. Without the ifs and buts. Fear is not the enemy, neither is shame. They are normal healthy responses and are meant to be felt and lived to the fullest. The real enemy is the need to be joyous at all times. To be in denial of your suffering. To be smiling and happy in times where your body is urging you to experience sadness for it to heal.
I’ve been so sad my entire life and I’ve been in denial of my feelings for so long, it feels like every emotion i feel, other than sadness, is fake and a mirrored response. I feel like an outsider who has adapted to live with people by mirroring them. The only true emotions i can writes essays about are hopelessness, anxiousness, emptiness, inadequacy, longing.
What is home? How would you define it? How is one supposed to define it? Is it a place where you sleep and eat? I am privileged and should not have these questions ringing in my head all day and night. There’s millions in this country alone who call the pavement and side walks their homes. Then why do i keep dreaming of home? Why do i have a new home in every one of them? Why do i have such a hard time accepting that the one we already live in is home enough. The one we lived in before was home enough. The one we’ll move into will also be home. We will carry the ghost of home wherever we go, and it will fill whatever four walls we take it to.