Sometimes the tears just slip down my cheeks, and other times when it doesn’t, I feel it all accumulating in the rusty cages of my beaten-out hollow chest, and I’m not exaggerating, it makes it hard for me to talk without choking, it’s hard to even breathe.
And the rain of yesterday, I thought maybe this is what all the tears in me would look like, pouring from the sky. Making the ugly world wet.
So I made a mental note: never will I cry when I’m outside. never again. I can hardly imagine how repulsive it would look like, all the tears in me pouring from my eyes.
Making my ugly face wet.
I had always thought baby steps were alright, but now I know they’re not because they’re all insisting, jostling, telling me i should hurry on.
But see, when I do, they tell me to slow down.
And when I slow down, they tell me once again to move along.
One heart one mind, they said they all were, yet when they spoke, their voices all pointed me in a thousand different directions…
The look in their eyes, their hope for me. It makes me shudder and shake in fear to disappoint them. How did they see so much in me, how could they have so much hope in me for me, when I had no hope for myself and thought of myself the way years of calling me stupid instilled into me that I was stupid.
Have you heard the noise the voices make in my head?
Have you heard the growing rumble an approaching tsunami makes ?
It strikes fear in the heart of the most grown man.
And I look around for a safe place to hide, expecting everyone else to be scrambling for shelter with me, too… only to realize that they aren’t?
For a second and a half, I wonder why, but when the first waves lashed me hard across my face, it seemed like it also struck me in plain brutality, mocking me: this tsunami came for me, to get me. Me alone.
And all of a sudden, the water seemed to start to fill me up from the inside.
I flail and flounder in a pool of thick authentic confusion, infused with the pungent scents of reckless panic and bloody bravado.
Looks like they are going to drown you in you.
And the others, all standing on their two firm feet, tuts at me, shakes their head at my struggle, my fight to keep my head above the waters. I wonder if they know that I can’t swim …
Also, I think I’ve heard laughter coming from the land. I think they’re all laughing at me, amused, and despising me for sinking in this.
But they haven’t heard this noise, definitely not the one in my head. I’ve heard it roar many times before, but this time it’s different.
It’s a monster of a million oceans crashing mercilessly on the roofless head of a lost child.
Like how I power up my rank 6 Colt to take out a Nita that is merely rank 1. Hundred percent victory. A brawling star.
And I, who dons stupid smiles and polite bows, am wearying, breaking, weeping, under the strain of a thousand ages of stress.
Their eyes are on me and I know they are watching me with bated breath.
What’s worse is that my body is aching, my arms are tired, my legs are cramping but I still do stubbornly want to swim well, to reach the land, the land that never seems to get closer no matter how hard and for how long I swim. I’m not sure, maybe I want to do this for myself, maybe to impress them, and maybe to impress all of them, to prove that I am not a child anymore, not someone who holds to a non-existent self-esteem, but someone who is like them, one of them, someone who is actually really bursting at the seams with eager confidence and zest for life and everything she has yet to see.
I still plug in my earpiece, this days a little deeper, half of me believing that it makes me a little more invisible, and the other half of me believing that it would stifle the screams I’ve heard inside me. As if it would make me a little less afraid of every one and every thing going around me.
Then in the deepest night, familiar darling Despair comes searching for me, her cold fingers are the only ones I feel tightening around my ribs that I am feeling more every day through my skin.
She turns what should be frightening thoughts into frighteningly calm ones.
As she lessens my fears of drowning, then I also realized how much I have been craving, for someone to tell me, “Good job. It must have been hard. You’ve worked hard. It’s alright.” Maybe just that enough would have made me stay…
Then to wake up and find that my morning heart is just as tired as it was last night, I ask myself, what is hope?
And I fear that I will disappear before I can do anything for the good of them, the millions out there.
Not even for just one of them. all those poor people.
poor me, but who cares.