And it all began with that one word, 'Love', and the unending questions that one word brought to her mind. 'I have loved so many', she thought, 'yet there is so little love for myself.' Where had it all began? Where does love begin...and where does it end? She often found herself wondering why it had played such a large role in her life so far. She knew that were she to be asked what she was, the answer would always be the same. Love.
My heart, so often, is as a dark cavern, hollow and filled with monsters, their rusty jaws snapping violently. So, how is it that at other times, this same heart fills with a heat and joy that illuminates my very soul?
She paused on her way to bed, brushing a hand through her hair and gazing down at her heavily scarred arms, running a finger over the pallid marks. If she could love others, why could she not love herself? It was strange the way that kind words had the same effect on her as the absence of kindness, both leaving her choking on tears. It was odd how words of love made her feel out of place and uncomfortable, as if she were donning an unfamiliar coat.
Do I exist even?
It was a question she asked herself almost daily, as she switched off her cyber world, with its cyber people.
Everyone I come to love, fades away, leaving me gasping for air, drowning in darkness and vowing to never trust again.
Laying down in bed, she snapped the light off and poured music into her ears, getting lost in the emotions the notes always evoked.
Music sets me free. Music is how I feel!
Shooting glances around the darkened room, her mind swayed back and forth, firing questions to which there seemed to be no answers. Always so many questions. Every day, she found herself twisting around in her incessant questions, writhing in frustration at the difficulty of finding the answers she sought.
What is my purpose here? Why would I have chosen such a life, if we do indeed choose our earthly lives?
'What is my purpose?', she asked again, imploring the universe for an answer.
'Love', was whispered into the silence, echoing inside her mind. It was not the first time she had received such an answer.
Everytime I love, I get hurt, yet I end up forgiving and loving again. Where is my lesson?
Continuing to stare into the paling darkness, she felt an invisible energy touch her hair, sending a prickling warmth through her, even as a cold breeze wrapped itself around her. Frustrated, she squinted into the darkness, lifting a hand to her head, as if she might feel flesh on flesh of another's fingers.
I want to see you! I want proof that we don't just live, die and rot in the ground, living on only as memories in the minds of other humans.
She willed her guide to show himself, but the scene remained the same. No matter how much she hid her natural fear of the unknown, he never made himself solid to the eye.
Coward!
Her mind wandered again as she lay flat on her back, and gazed at the ceiling, able to make out the swirling pattern of the paintwork in the retreating darkness of early morning.
So many connections, so much love and so much loss, but why? Are we Eternal? Have I really lived a thousand times? Or maybe we all delude ourselves with our beliefs of Gods and souls.
The song changed, bringing with it a gut wrenching pain and sense of loss. It is funny how music can worm its way into the hardest of hearts, bringing forth memories long suppressed and feelings long since forgotten...but not forgotten. The universal language, so they said. Closing her eyes, she listened intently and drifted elsewhere.
I used to dance on the couch, you know? Hair flying in all directions, eyes bright with exuberance and joie de vivre. I used to dance to this song, giggling and full of light...full of life! I had a bright future ahead of me then, with no cause for fears and doubts. I can love that sparkling, outgoing little girl! Am I really she and is she really me?
For a moment, I can almost feel her within me, trying to burst free and shine again as she shone before.
Tears leaked from the corners of the young woman's eyes. sliding over her hair and onto the pillow. Time and again, she found herself grieving for her loss, as images of this child flooded in. This strange, unrecognisable child, who haunted her like some ghost of christmas past.
The girl guide, so naughty as to be in frequent trouble, as she scaled the bathroom cubicle walls and flung water on unsuspecting victims.
The thoughtful child, who would sit in the flowerbeds for hours, the cat her only companion as the hot sun warmed her hair.
That strange child, who would skate around her front yard, waving to the people driving past, eager for attention. The star of her own imaginary show.
The loving child, who ran upstairs to comfort her usually harsh grandfather, who sobbed at the loss of his wife.
The child is easy enough to love, but that child is not me. She got detached at some point. Memories always hurt me.
The woman lay there, yearning to go back in time and absorb the child that she once was or maybe grab back the many years she had lost. Can you lose years? Oh yes, believe me, you can lose time itself.
Time froze at ten, as she started the careful construction of walls so great that it would take years to penetrate them. Even now, they remained, albeit cracked and unstable with chinks of light eroding the dark stone.
I wonder if my child sits in there, digging away at the stone with bloodied hands, suffocating in her darkness?
Turning off her music, the woman glanced once more into the darkness before closing her eyes and waiting for relief to find her.
_________________
I am diagnosed as a human being.
25 Mar 2007, 10:54 pm
Amazing!
)
