A thought, just one. A microsecond, not even. But it contained everything. And it wasn’t even the first time.
That blue in the sky, I’ve always appreciated it. The few times in life where my disability was conquered. No pain. Just void. And yet, the moment would pass and you grow up and learn that the sky isn’t actually the color you think it is.
Inhale, relax, understand about believes. You learn to put value and understanding in how we are. As individuals. You’re you. And I am just me. One day I might believe in this, have morals and opinions about that. And you too, indubitably. Exhale. A moment passed. We grow up, and learn.. that believes aren’t actually what you think they are.
Maybe I was six or even eight, and that microsecond happened. I could have been thirteen or fifteen, and I still remember that tiniest of moment. And never did I realise, because you have hope.
This is not real, that is not real. Santa what the fuck now? Love is not forever? Trust is only there to be broken? Ha! What a joke, maybe I am just not an optimist, not a believer, maybe I just see the bad in life.
In that microsecond where you see everything that has happened, where you know what you think, what you know in your heart (as they say), that what you are as a person .. is .. something. And that it would be okay if things change. Maybe a believe is just different for me, now. Or what morals mean, well, it could be that I have an alternative perspective on it. Perhaps. Maybe I am just not as smart as I trusted in myself to be. Heck, it could just be that the world isn’t what it is supposed to be.
Time passes, hope fades, love gets crushed, morals get pulled in directions. And you see the fabric of life unfold over time. Layer by layer, it slides and slips away. And that optimism to move forward, maybe it fades.
It has been twenty some years, and the daily struggles are there. Nothing changed. Yet, everybody else has grown older, gained weight. Lost weight. Gained a family, lost a house. Bought a house, maybe even a dog or two. It must be nice; choice that is.
Give me a list with five things that have moved forward in my life. How did I pass by someone else? Okay, let’s be fair. Maybe a niece looks up to me. A sister that says she loves you. A mother that’s proud of you. Yeah, it gets tougher now huh, as we get closer to five? Why though, right?
A Spring morning at the age of thirty six. The glance back in a fraction of a moment, time stood still in my brain, neurons fired. I saw everything again as it was and felt like. The scents, the truths, the regrets, the hate, the love, the lies. We’ve grown. And layers of the fabric of life are thinning out. Physical pain is frequent. Sadness, unhappiness, sure, loneliness. A dislike towards hate grows, but hate towards life grows.
Lies, backstabbing, untruths, selfish decisions, broken hearts, not wanting, time wasted, money wasted, love wasted, friendships wasted. A life wasted.
Tonight, I hang up, and my heart breaks. The deal with the devil though, my believes? Ha, the joke’s on me then I guess. A handful of reasons that were so hard to find a minute ago, but a lifetime of a handful of the smallest moments that tell me everything. And I think I’ve run out.
They leave, that breaks, this is fake, there’s no blue sky, Santa’s not real. She didn’t actually love me. Nobody meant it when they said sorry. And with every step I take forward to try and find those handful of reasons, I have two hands of the Universe pushing me back.
This is not the life I wanted, but we’ve gone beyond the tipping point.And I hate ‘this’ what I am part of. This destroyed Earth. These selfish misbehaving inconsiderate and disrespectful people that just by their definition: don’t have to care, don’t have to hurt, and pass me by, without any remorse. While I try, and isn’t even allowed to enjoy the moment. Or to have get to choose to have one, or not.
Honestly though, that night sky, that fog, that evening next to the table near the water, that clinched hug, that morning blue sky, and that night in my room in the attic. In the forty four years of my life, those littest and tiniest moments in my life, well .. maybe they have been the only few moments I’ve perhaps found myself. The other 1,387,584,000 have been nothing but finding out none of it was true. Life that is. This isn’t my life. This isn’t me.
My apologies that I didn’t find myself in those five moments.