And even in your great unknowing, you were already a light to me.
And the cracks in this universe are what we call stars.
I am caught up thinking about the future, though it is not something I do often. I do not see it as a feasible thing to do, to muse on multiple unknowns, and the way a possible moment ahead wilts simply because I had forgotten to water the seed once sown is frightening to consider.
Yet I am thinking of all of the people I have yet to meet, and might still. Who knows what stories will fill these blank pages, and will the ink bleed dry too early?
I wonder how are all of you. How do I speak and give attention to each without sounding lost or despicably biased? I do not know how, but I will try and try, over and over.
Are you lonely and hurting, whoever you are, having to hold your own mind to keep it altogether.
Are you happy and filled, perhaps after a meal satisfying and sweet, almost tripping over a piece of broken glass by the bin.
Are you angry and desperate, at the world that will not move the mountains to reach.
Are you sleepy and tired, a face on the other side of the world, a tinsel of stars outside the bedroom window.
Are you nervous and tingly, set for a path mysterious, one that may lead you to me.
I know how life can take a turn for the unexpected, for I will be changed for always due to my 2017. Maybe it is both thrilling and fearsome, the way I may continue to face more twists and strains. Maybe my spirit will find itself bending under the weight of these journeys.
Where am I going?
I may ask this from time to time, say it to the ocean whose stunning roars will drown my shallow doubts. I still do not know, but I will hold on to the broken seashell gifted to me in a land far away, where its cool waves have once capered among my feet.
I continue to look at the road after things are long gone, and this is how I meet you.
A child, that’s what I should have been, but I was one attending secondary school. People see you in places alone but in my case, dreams led me to you.
Did we say hello at first glance? This I cannot recall, but I knew from the very start that you were different. Your manner and the way you speak, you cannot be from this place.
We might have met at other places, but the park is the venue I remember best. We would sit on the bench and talk. You had a way of loosening my tongue, despite my reticent nature. Your voice, it was a low hum, calm and strange. It follows me even after I wake.
And then, you vanished.
Or maybe, I did the vanishing after all.
I am angry, incredibly angry, at my failing memory. Desperate for a clue, often trying to understand how our communication broke. When did I lose my way? They say that people of your kind disappear with age and time, when the need for a companion no longer exists but how dare you, how dare you share so many moments and carelessly disappear afterwards?
You were a phantom and I thought of you everyday.
Are you still waiting at the park? Because I no longer know how to get there.
In the darkness, I still see you.
Though your soothing voice is slowly leaving and your wise smile fading, you remain undeniably special to me.
Loneliness is dropping a stone into the void, waiting for it to hit the bottom but only hearing the thud of one’s chaotic heartbeat.
What a friend you turned out to be, one I never quite imagined at all.
It is the thought of you that keeps me from my craft, impressing a desire to write of our friendship. Admittedly, it is not only today you occupy, but the various yesterdays.
Friend of a friend, connection loosely strung over the social network. Converse we do, and we find ourselves in an interesting situation — while mostly strangers, we are much alike.
Gradual texts of a growing length, subjects aplenty. Music, books, and even the question of life itself. Who would guess that these two reticent humans would find each other?
In real life we hardly meet, constant lurkers of the online space. Yet I forget not the day you came for a significant event when another thirty would not. Despite the traffic and the pouring rain, your arrival meant a great deal to me. The only one of them all.
You asked then confused at the scene, why did you invite me here?
I replied poorly in my concealed gratitude, why not?
Why not, truly.
Distance increased over the years, and while our speakings dipped with the trough and peaks of life’s tidal wave, what wonders a simple message would do. A reconnect, tardy as some may be.
It is possible that I may never be coherent enough to express your importance in my life, especially when we are not close in relations in the end. But bless you I do, in these secret writings and feelings.
Un du evari’nya ono varda.
May the stars watch over you.
Play hide and seek with me, the favourite game of every child.
Teach me how to find not with the eyes but the heart.
There is a warmth lingering in this stillness that I am in want for.
Stay, please stay in gentle patience until my fingertips align themselves with yours.
Lean in, whisper goodnight to the flecks of light outside.
Know that home lies in the crook of my collarbone.
Don’t forget how angry injustice makes you feel. It’s terrible how crimes need to be judged by severity, when wrongs against humanity are the scum of the earth.
A woman’s sense of pride is scorned, when one speaks of indecent glances. Women are pages in the catalogue, perused and felt up to the corners. Eyes are made to travel, don’t go feeling special or personally targeted.
We are bodies made of stardust, and some take more in the name of entitlement. A skirt too short, a figure too svelte, it must be her fault that hands desire to lean in for an impolite touch.
Girls are indecisive, they say, girls know not what they want. Others take their voices and speak in false mellifluous promises. It’s easy to know what they need, turn their loud no-s into secret yes-s. Catch one alone, in a crowd if there is a sense of daring.
In this world, the voice of a female falls on deaf ears. The wrongness committed has become a norm and there is no need to raise a fuss, unless the case strikes as strange or unexpected. Late nights and teenager years are too ordinary to be given a second thought.
Yet it remains unjust, that in an era of spaceships and underwater kingdoms half the population have to be afraid simply for being a woman. Things shift in time, be it gold dust or night constellations, and so I will continue to hope for better tomorrows for the sake of the future generation.