I’ve always been a sucker for inviting looking doors, presumably to abandoned places, almost always locked. I want to go exploring, my imagination scaling up an ivy covered turret, disturbing the pigeons on the ledge… More
I’ve realised I mostly come on here and write on days I have something happy to report. Be it my physical or mental well-being or a step forward in the right direction, be it any aspect of my life. I do it with the firm belief that sharing is caring, that someone out there might read my pieces and smile, take heart and hustle on. Indeed, your kind comments have proven it to be so.
Yet, on days when I’m not feeling my best, I refrain from writing, either feeling vulnerable at the exposure or feeling like an imposter for having written all those uplifting, self-care advocating posts when I cannot simply gather myself together. Today is one such day. Half of which has passed.
The other half, however, I am committed to change today. I will address you on days that I am down. I will share with you my darkest thoughts, sorrows, fears and words. Why, you ask? Because maybe, just maybe, someone out there might read my pieces and smile, take heart and hustle on in the knowledge that we all have our ups and downs. Our moods have upswings and downswings. And yet, nothing lasts forever. I know I will get back into the right frame of mind soon enough. And you will see the difference. As would someone else who’s currently berating himself for feeling the way he is currently and admonishing himself for not being strong. It doesn’t take strength to plaster a smile on your face and pretend everything is okay, winning accolades and love from everyone around. It does take strength to accept there will be days when you won’t be at your best, that it is okay to take a break, take more than a few moments to be with yourself, accept your feelings and let them live out their life cycle in you in a healthy manner and, most importantly, it takes sheer strength to try and love yourself when you’re on the brink of self-hatred.
So today, I am willing to acknowledge that there will be days when I’ll be an irritable, slobbering, whining, selfish mess. But that is till my mess. I own it and will overcome it. I will live through it to better days. And I will do so without assigning blame to others around me when their behaviour ticks me off just because I’m in a mood. I will heal without damaging another’s mental health. There is a heart big enough in me to love them and myself. I will be real.
What do you say to that?
I search for people who feel like sunshine
Who can clear the skies on a rainy day
People whose smiles can cast rainbows
and whose tears are always of joy
I search for people who feel like sunshine
I watch them
Trying to glean their secrets and ways
I love and cherish them for all of their days
So that when someone looks towards me in their hour of need
I hope they’d find me to be
A person who feels like sunshine
I have often let my words get away from me in the hope that they won’t abandon me. Afraid of what would be left in me, bereft of these fierce, lifelong companions. Do I make them or do they make me? Or is it a symbiotic, synchronised symphony? Amidst all the cacophony that life currently is, it’s words that pierce through to me like a well-timed epiphany.
And yet, I often let my words get away from me so that they may, of their own will, seek me. I let them go, fly and soar. For they’ve far too often and for far too long been pinned down in being penned down. Now, they’re here, there and everywhere. I find them in every nook and cranny. In music and in food, in fire and in wood, in the flow of water and tears and in the eyes of my beloved.
I find them in hope and I find hope in them. They are my solace and redemption, my desolation and my gumption.
And yet, I am too afraid to call myself a writer. I feel that word is too big for me. Too presumptuous. What if in calling myself a writer, way ahead of time, these words of mine took offence and never again become mine. What if they mock me for my pride and let me fall to my demise. What if they took from me what they’ve given me and left me alone to pine. The fears are many and answers I have none. What I have with me are words, greatly cherished and hard won.
And so, I simply write.
Into the eye of the storm
Ride on, my friend
And when you emerge
There’ll be storms in your eyes
Your true valour
And that’s where true calm lies
The last thing he said to me was
That he’d never asked me to do so much
Try so hard
Be so nice
Give it my all
Till I was bared to my bones
That was the first time I was rendered mute with shock
Until indifference took over me
And I knew
I’d cry no more
While I agree that we may not all be sailing in the same boat
But we are trying to ride out and get past the same storms
Yet deeply understood
So if your storms are raging hard
Come steer your boat a little towards me
And I promise to bend my course too
So that we can ebb and flow with the same wave
I’ve pretended to be happy long enough to fool my own self
Now there’s nothing you can do that’ll wipe that smile off of my face
So carry on, move on, go or stay
Do whatever you will
And see if I care