A short personal essay on one’s perspective on the society and decisions. For Cake Wednesday Write in.
Prompts: hideout :: transitory :: share :: full bodied :: problem
They said I read too many clever books, and that I thought too much. That I was bothering and irritating, and then almost disturbingly hated by the society. They said I needed a change of scenery, a do-over if you will. Or maybe another person in my life, a “destiny changer”. They told me that there was nothing bad about unleashing my wildly sour emotions, yet they were bored quite soon, too tired to help and too useless to care. They made me believe that it was OK. That it could happen to anyone, yet I was the one to be so unfortunate. I truly believed that for once in my life it was fine to be unlucky. That it was normal to experience such a twist on my path. That I was not the first one, nor I was the last. And after all, they offered me a cure, a solution, a magic pill that I could not swallow. It seemed to be stuck in my throat forever, between past and future, fairytale and nightmare. They said I needed to let it go, to let him go, to let them both go. They… They… They… It was not about anyone else, but me. About myself, devastated and struggling, not even broken, but shattered. It was about my pain, my sorrow and my decision on how to step out of the shadow, fully bodied with fear.
Instead of letting it go, I tucked it in. I buried everything in my sacred hideout. I cultivated secret hopes that it would all get lost in there, somewhere, in my big, widely opened heart. But I kept coming back to this treasured pain, almost with a certain masochism I rediscovered it over and over again. And shared it with no one. And could not care less of what “they” said or thought. My heart was pulled apart and bleeding. My love was weeping. They say that not a single heart-break can be worse than a labor pain, and even that one, we, women tend to forget. Well, I say that we are so easy on forgetting labor pain because it signifies such a beautiful beginning of a new life, truly enchanting moment. We forget, because it is the beginning of a story with continuation. Well, guess what? Heart breaks serve the endings.
I always believed in second chances, but it is hard to give one when “they” don’t believe in you. It is tough to go across well-known rules. It is painful to watch yourself suffer. I do wish, that in between moments, there could exist this transitory silence, when they would keep quiet. Because they, the society, are cruel creatures. They won’t break you, but they will make sure you’re malleable material. Don’t be! Make your decision and own it!