We’re difficult. We’re different. Just as we can’t do anything about the strange weather, we can’t do much about our strange behaviour. We love. We choose. We fight. We break. We say good bye even when we don’t mean it. We forget to say ‘I love you’ even if we want to. We walk away, we stay, we make promises and we fail to realize our shortcomings.
We try to erase memories, and make painful words fade. We walk into darkness and hope to find light, but almost hurt ourselves so much that the thickness of the dark envelops us within itself, failing to let go. We push, fight and sometimes begin to give in to the darkness. We begin to lose hope. We break. But anything that can break, can also be fixed. So, when the dust, the dirt, the darkness and the pain accumulates, piles, refuses to go, it forms a mound. It sits on you refusing to leave till you fight hard enough. And then you break it. You come out hurt, you come out pained, you come out sad, but you fought, you tried and you didn’t lose hope completely. That’s the thing about us. Every time we think we’ve lost hope, we haven’t. Every time we think about giving up, we’re hit with the realisation that we won’t. We won’t lose hope even if we know there is the tiniest chance of a recovery.
We get used to being alone, we get used to fighting for ourselves, we get used to not expecting. And then we do, and then we take that chance, and then we make that leap of faith. But sometimes there isn’t anything on the other side. We fall, endlessly, hoping we’ll hit ground soon enough, but we never do. We’re in air, floating and falling all at once. Feeling suffocated and alive, all at once. And in that moment life flashes in front of us, every moment that made us smile, every moment that made us cry and every moment worth fighting for.
We feel foolish for caring. We feel stupid for trying. We feel betrayed when we are disappointed. Some nights are lonely, some nights are quiet. Some nights are so loud that you can’t fall asleep and the fan sounds roar. Some night are for savouring solitude, some nights for relishing company. Some nights we just sit under the clear skies and breathe, thinking about how love touches everyone in so many different ways. We just sit under the pink-orange clouds talking about forevers and never. We talk about last wishes and happier tomorrows, naive and hopeful, yet so infinite.
We are all guilty. Guilty of being a bad best friend, guilty of being a horrible daughter, guilty of feeling like a bad human, guilty of causing pain, guilty of letting go, guilty of holding on too tight. Guilty - the nature of being. Are we guilty because we care too much or too little? Are we guilty because we loathe ourselves or because we love another so much?
And then of course we all live in perpetual expectancy. We’re crazy.
We have so much. We have the ability to feel. We can love. We can feel the power of hurt. We writhe with pain. We allow people to touch us even after a chain of heartbreaks. But, we’re constantly dissatisfied, hoping for more, and more. Will it ever be enough? Do we know what it is to be satiated? Can we go on living if we’re satiated?
I just stand here. The wind trying to blow me away. I just think about ‘we’.
I can’t see it. I can feel it.