Ashen Pages

When you let go of the pity that once settled in your stomach, it all becomes tolerable. Peace comes at a cost, as does the journey of the life you’ve lived and will continue living. As a child, you remain watchful. Even when others do not think you are watching, you are. Absorption is futile. The world becomes all the things you’ve seen and heard. You take in it and release it onto others, praying that somehow it doesn’t get back to you. Is it possible to change the way the currents flow? I believe there may be. Pragmatically decent and reliable, answering all the questions that you didn’t before. Perhaps it is much easier to believe that if you have something to offer, the world will give you something back. Life is selfish and does not care for these sorts of dealings. It provides within muddled bounds and dramatic consequences. Ecclesiastes says: “for with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.” Little girls and boys thirsting for knowledge, wondering if they’ll ever get what they need. As they grow, they find they hardly took a chance. I think they know deep down that once rejection appears: The mollycoddled envied truth presents well in all its glory.

I think that rigid environments tend to make for a better person. She may watch her mother as she dresses and makes up her face with care, whilst day dreaming about the different men that await her far beyond the doors. Can wanting love place us beneath such shameful beds? It’s an easier pill to swallow than just using your numb body for hedonistic pleasures. It is heavenly to ignore the suffering that you have within yourself, yet distinct from the truth that lies beyond the surface. I was never satisfied with what was in front of me because I knew that there was more to it. I was always graceful with others but never myself, hoping that someone could save me from my misery. To this day, I wait and wait with no end in sight. The only end appears when I enter sleep and even then the dreams that terrorize me are unforgiving.

They come in waves, the treacherous lessons of nature. Youth is fun and brittle with candies and naps and games that make you feel like life is worth living. I hadn’t considered the possibility of pain at that point but the threshold was close by, dangling just above my head. I stood on the front lawn with my toes in the green grass, bee stings on my legs and cheeks with the sun beating down so heavily I couldn’t see the clouds. I was never satisfied but always curious, mesmerized by the human nature so deeply that I cried when little boys and girls did not fancy me. I was drawn to rejection the way the bees were to the honey of the sunflowers, sucking the soul out of any being that would look my way. That was enough for the time being, somehow I questioned : could it possibly get worse?

The pit of my stomach was half full and my mouth was well dry from conducting interviews in the mirror. I was appalled at my own shortcomings, feeding my brain in any way possible. I wanted the world but it did not want me back— fighting me each step of the way. When the climate was normal and the seasons changed with fluidity, the rain didn’t cause so much hurt. That little girl inside me was wrenched with happy tears and beads of sweat, running against the currents. I was far more removed from the process of becoming than I realized, holding onto that guardian’s leg and hiding because it seemed like there were monsters everywhere. Then one day, I didn’t hide anymore. I simply walked up to them and spoke : Have it your way!

No longer afraid except to the bonding memories back home, I could not fathom how I’d made it this far. I sat back down in criss crossed legs, full of nimble joy and heart bursting. I began to look up and notice the shape of the clouds and the color of the sky. It wasn’t blue or teal or cerulean. It was simply everything in between.