grave of wounded memories
For someone who doesnt love math, I sure do count a lot. I count on how many times i have faced failure. I count on how many things were shattered out of my control. I count on fears based on uncertain future coming up. I count on how many nights i have spent by thinking what kind of life i would be living.
After the hundredth days of apocalypse in my head, I began to aimlessly wandering towards the sky. Rain never felt as nostalgic as before. Sunset no longer had its enchanting glandeur light as I stored it in my temporal lobes brain. It started losing the capability to store any memories, perhaps. Gradually, stars stopped to adorn the pitch black sky with their luminous sparks.
I always had this tendency to love tranquility even more after all of disasters that sinked me in into deep suffocating ocean. It just seemed to me that probably back then human was roaming all over the planet to find their own safety place as I did. I yelled for help but my voice was echoing in return.
I shielded my face with my bare hands which made out of wilted dandelions only to detain my vulnerability from escaping down like a waterfall.
I laughed in doses unhealthy amounts of Studio Ghibli movies binge-watching. Museum de Louvre showcased my chillhood memories as their displayed paintings and I mourned every inch of it. I didnt cry because it brought so much pain, I cried because how much I yearn to re-living it over and over again like a broken tape. I tried to find shelter in hot pancakes every morning only to get myself choked by the lingering taste left in my mouth, because it was similar with what my mother always made in my younger days. Every corner of my room suddenly became the grave of overused amusement park. Constructed by the ferris wheel, carousel, sand castle with nameless faces but my parents.
Sometimes, my nightmares started to jump in reality, basically twisted my consciousness and turned it into inevitable bleak fluid that ripped down my sanity. Fears were my incomparable enemy and I used to be the one who loses.
Days became more surreal as time passed by. I traveled infinite miles seeking upon nothing. I went round and round over uncharted path, from one destination to another. But it was never enough yet for me to easily breathe. World just too big for me to conform, but way too stertorous to fit in. I have been so many versions of what they would wish me to be. Head to toe. The way I was no longer recognize myself was just beyond ridiculous.
How many centuries does it need to take for myself eventually regain my long lost soul? The one that used to never question, "Why does it has to be me?". The one that used to never wonder, "Where does happiness come from?". The one that used to smile for unknown reason. The one that used to look in someone's eyes with no bucket of loathe.
But instead, words such "I'm sorry" spitted out of my mouth every damn time. I said sorry for not being able to fit in world's sacred rule. I said sorry for not having ability carrying the weight of collapsing skies. I said sorry for not looking presentable enough in front of glorious people. I took all the blame for being a human. In contrast, I didnt give any apologies for being too hard on myself. For not letting myself out from cramped same old room and closing all of the possibilites I might have.
In sum up, I missed how I am used to be. I didnt lost in my way to find certain places for finally feel home. But I did lost for understanding such misconcept my mind is telling me about myself. I am the home. The only source of warmth I long for years. Regardless its broken bone and invisible wounds, I will let them nourish me. In order to truly bloom, I need to embrace the rain. It might left ache, but eventually I will grow beautiful flower after the chosen spring takes place.
I will turn the eternal chaos in my head into immortal instruments who will only rings sweet melody. Though I have to spend the entire day to collect all of the shattered pieces of mine, I will hold onto them tightly. Those commitments, I will not runaway from upcoming cold sea waves that brush against my feet for it will help to sweep off my battle scars as well.
This is an alternate way to say, "Thank you for being so much stronger,”
to whisper, "I want to be decent enough for you,"
to reminisce, "All the pain is what made you are today,"
to cast a magic spell, "Hey, let's making smile out of faces that aren't just yours,"
for a promising future ahead of me, for precious people around me,
and, for my reflection in the mirror.