Cliche

Forgiveness. You forgive, for your sake. Forgiveness, serves you more than the person that wronged you or vice versa. In the long run, this is for you, for me, for us. Every one of us has been betrayed and hurt at some point. Feeling hurt is completely and utterly a normal part of being a human being. You see pain can linger and stay for a long time, more than it should. Paying its unwelcomed visits every now and then constantly reminding you of every single brutal memory. Dragging mind numbing, inevitable feelings. I am one of those girls that wish they could magically change the past, change what has been done to me, change what I may have done to others. Change every little thing that fills me up with deep seated resentment or remorse. Right all the wrongs. I think we spend too much time feeling guilty and resentful, focussing on things we can't change rather than what we actually can change. Stuck in the past, constantly pressing rewind. As human beings, we want to forget, we want to erase, we want to get past everything turbo speed. Thing is, you can't simply forget if you can't accept, or forgive. Forgiveness needs effort, patience, time and practice. The trick is to write about forgiveness like I know how, as if I mastered the art of acceptance and forgiveness. Smart? The sad truth is you'd be very wrong to think, that it worked. As I sit and try to convince myself with words that are written by me to me. As much as I just made it sound simple and easy, forgiveness is not anywhere close to practical. And as much I'd love to be the bigger person, today I choose not to be.

Shut.

I've been out of words, out of feelings, out of everything I was so full of or thought I was. I'd love to say, I've been in a bubble, as much as it sounds like sweet isolation or blissful ignorance, its much more dreamy than being where I am. Trapped. Anxious. Uneasy. More claustrophobic than ever.

The ruins of us.

When you stop thinking about it, when it stops crossing your mind, when your mind stops chewing on it over and over again is when you know it doesn't matter to you, for real. As long as you repeat the oh so famous I-don't-care, you still do. Truth is when you stop saying I don't care is when you really don't. Thinking about it now, I never thought I'd be here, indifferent. I never thought It wouldn't matter to me anymore. I don't seem to recognize the me that doesn't miss it, that doesn't think about it. I don't know what went wrong, but something did. That something that went wrong inside me, is what saved me. I stopped being in denial, that thing they call acceptance started to bloom.

It was like living in a house where the roof has fallen off and looking up everyday and smiling, being all Pollyanna about it. I don't care, I just don't care. What they're calling a wreck, is my home. What they don't like is what I built brick by brick over such a long time and I can't afford to lose it, lose what I've built so far for a little desturction. I can't let all the beautiful memories go to waste, its who I am, its all that we are. Invincible, irreplaceable. No, the roof is not a sign, and no it is not crumbling down. It wont kill me, it can't kill me, its whats keeping me alive. Living around all this is the reason I wake up in the morning. There isn't anywhere like this anyway, I'd trade the entire world for this. It may not be what it once was, but its our place. 

Truth is, the helplessness it made me feel broke my heart. It was a mess that I couldn't stop, It drowned me in deep denial. I didn't like living in a roofless house, I didn't like the sun, I didn't like the exposure. I felt unsafe, unprotected. It didn't look like something that belongs to me, it didn't feel like something that once belonged to me. I looked up, like every other morning, and asked myself "Is it worth it?" 

And it was more crushing than courageous to finally realize, it isn't. It wasn't worth it, it wasn't worth holding onto. There was no room for false hope or denial, no room for sweeping issues under the rug no more. That sad grey morning, I moved out.

The battle of the greatest powers.

The feeling, the ache right in the middle of your chest. A physical sensation of your insides shattering to a million little pieces, a broken heart or so they say. In our minds, the problem is always our hearts. A battle of right and wrong. A battle of power, of unconsciousness, of control. They trick you, you find yourself unconsciously giving in to their hidden powers. Follow your heart they say. Then again, be smart use your mind, because hearts make fools out of us and the mind knows whats best for you. Being smart, is always associated with using your head. That is where we are wrong. It is not the heart thats the problem, in fact it is our mind. Our mind is what keeps on relentlessly going over things, over and over and over again. Our mind is what keeps us restless, sleepless.. 

Literary the heart, the actual heart, does not get hurt. In fact, it does not feel anything. We cling to ideas, we create problems that only exist in our head. Mainly because most of the time, we want things to be different, we expect them to be different, most importantly we spend so much time thinking of what ifs. What if, this that and the other. What if things were actually different. In our minds we do not accept things or people the way they are. We constantly have the urge to try to change things, change people, change reactions, change feelings, change situations. The mind is persistent, insistent, impatient.  The power of a persistent mind is larger, than the power of a thousand hearts. It just can't let it go, can it? 

Que sera, sera.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. Always calm. Always quiet. A creature of many faces, she would be ugly and unpleasant at times. Too much to take, too much to handle. A mess. And at other times she was mind blowingly beautiful. Perfect, just what everyone needed. Left a lingering smile on faces. Thing is, that poor girl was usually mistrusted, misjudged and always misunderstood. They didn't trust that all she wanted was the best, their best. They didn't know that she had their bestest interest at heart. They didn't believe in her. They wouldn't. They just couldn't give up their power, their will, to a little girl. How could they give in? Noway.
She wasn't anyone's favorite. Regardless, she kept on happening, showing up. A little creep, they said. Scaring everyone around her off. And that didn't feel good, it worried her. It made her feel very much neglected.
So she prayed, every night for that one day, that one day she would finally prove herself right. Waiting patiently for them to see things through her glasses. They may not be rose colored, they may not colored at all. But they were just right. No illusions. No lies. Just the way everything should be.

Her name is Fate and Fate is coming.

The memory.

I sat there. Helpless. As the tears ran down my face and my heart swelled with feelings of nostalgia. A feeling I don't know too well, one that held me down. Like an anchor pulling me down to the very bottom. Into a deep dark blue sea. That's exactly when I realized I wasn't going to break my own heart, little by little, it was already slowly getting broken. I sat there. Thinking of how something that only exists in one's mind, a thought a memory, is what can and what does shatter you into a million little pieces.

A fortunate accident.

"Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don’t blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being “in love”, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.” 

-Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

Meet me, halfway.

In my world, everything turns out just the way I imagine it to be. A carbon copy of the picture in my head. But we are not in my world. And time has shown me that, what is in mine is not in yours. Different worlds are inexistent to each other. So, I went back home, to my world and packed my bags. I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to leave. To leave everything I believed in for so long, behind. Permanently. For good. Maybe not, not just yet, and maybe I wouldn't ever be. But the time has come. I have no choice, I've got to leave. Something is waiting to meet me on the other side, Reality. 

Perfect flaws.

Ever since you received that phone call, all you think about is.. what to say. Jotted down on a piece of paper are your answers to all the "tell me about yourself." "what can you do that anyone else can't?" "why should we hire you?" questions. You think of every possible positive thing you could say about yourself. Carefully choosing only the concinving and powerful words, the "right" things to say.

Of course completely oblivious to the fact that the golden question is.. 

What is your biggest flaw?

So you sat there, stunned. The voice in your head is confused, puzzled. Your facial expression goes blank. What? Me? Talking about my flaws? No. That isn't happening. Even if we both know (the annoying voice in my head and I)  I'm not anywhere close to perfect, in fact I'm far from that. But no, no one gets to hear it from me. I need to be  perfect for this, I can't just admit to my oh so many flaws. 

Right there and then, I said.. 

Well here we go.. For starters, I'm arrogant. Just the way I've always been, too proud with an ego too big to carry around. I'm paranoid. I tend to make up stories and never-ending scenarios in my head, all of which I end up believing myself. I may have the all put together image, truth is I am a little too crazy in the head. The voice in my head and I don't talk much, but when we do, there is always someone around to listen. That doesn't always go so well. I don't know what I want. I suffer from a chronic disease called, uncertainty. That is slowly eating me up inside. I am very much of a perfectionist, that it kills me, let alone is slowly killing everyone around me. They hate me for that. I forgive but I don't forget, I never forget. As much as I seem careless, a B- would really upset me so much. I'm pathetically emotional. Too sensitive for my own good. I constantly worry too much that I may not live up to my very own expectations, most of the time I'm too hard on myself. 

Hired? Maybe, maybe not.

Point is.. That is all of which, make me who I am.

Take a moment, be grateful for your flaws.