A Confession, with a Story.

Sometimes, you feel your head may explode. All these thoughts, wandering around – questions debating the past, answers foreseeing the future, people all around you begging you to relax, with green tea or otherwise. But sometimes, all that really can help, is a nice long scream. An uninhibited, long, soul-piercing scream. The kinds that you hear in an eerie film, when the protagonist knows that she’s facing Death, and is no longer going to experience the pleasures of the world, be it big ones like love and hatred, or smaller ones like snap-chatting or finding the perfect pizza diner.

It’s a scream that breaks all the rules of the Universe; all the rules that once helped Man, the rules that help keep stability, peace and order in the Universe and beyond. Strangely though, this is a scream of relief, yes, I said scream. For it is not a sigh… it can’t be one. A sigh keeps you warm, leaves you at rest, in peace. This one however, it leaves you in pieces.

I guess sometimes you have to shatter though a lot of unwanted mess around you, in order to become entirely raw. To be so completely free of yourself, your dreams, your fears or your nightmares, that you can see yourself as someone scarred, someone who needs a new fresh beginning. Time does not heal wounds, neither do scars turn into faint memories. All of it stays, growing on you, with you. All of it gathers dust, maybe even rust, and there’s no medicine, there’s no cure. There’s simply no escape.
Feel like screaming yet?
I thought so.
Go ahead then. I dare you.
Take a piece of paper and a pen, and write down the three things that scare you, hurt you or you fear from the most. I don’t mean ghosts, or demons, or even your Boss. I mean literally scare you – things like loneliness, anorexia, or even dementia. Entering a time of your life when nothing, or no one around seems to make sense… it’s not ‘depression’ per say, but it’s a time in life when relief only comes through acknowledgment from others. Whether it’s the comment a friend made on your pictures, or the way he held your hand when you believed his words of lust to be love. It’s all from the outside, the look of pride, or the lack of it in your father’s eyes, the way your Boss hangs on to your every word, or merely asks you to remember how he takes his coffee.
It’s only until very recently, that I understood the true meaning of life. It was explained to me in the most simplest manner possible, and it is this I need to share with you.
“There are only two things that the blessed receive, their true inner passion or calling, and the other being true love.” These words, they were the piercing scream that my soul needed to hear.
No matter who, or what situation life throws at you, there are always two ways to look at it. Whether through rose-tinted glasses, as many of my friends believe I do, or whether it’s through the telescope of a cynic. Either way, reality is much further away than we would have imagined it to be.
As for me, tonight reality seems further closer than I had expected. I’m going to tell you a story, and it’s your choice whether to stop here, or read on. Don’t worry, if you do decide to stop, there’s not much you would have missed, for this is no extraordinary tale, it’s a tale about love, heartbreak, strength, despair and most importantly, the soul-piercing scream.
As always, my greatest setback, never knowing where to begin from. But as most great writers suggest, the ending seems to be the perfect start.
The end is a sad one. I stared at the blank screen before me and wondered how long it would be before I drifted off to sleep, hopefully tonight, with no dreams. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve not had any pills, or abused any substance… well, barring the Panadol that I just took to stop my sneezes from ripping through my tired head. Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore lies next to me, untouched, but tonight, even his words do not seem to soothe me. 
I stared at the blank screen, wondering if I should attempt to finish a story I was working on. My mind seems to have decided otherwise, and the heart, well let’s not go there. 
Being the end of the story, let me just pause for a second here to ‘give away the ending’ since isn’t that what endings do anyway? 
Yes. He left, and no, it wasn’t love for him. 
 
Day 6: I’ve deleted all the messages, I’ve put my phone on silent and bid adieu to the sweet thoughts of his that once used to make me blush and smile. He’s probably boarding a flight now, a long holiday with cousins, or so he said. Every word, every story seems questionable. My phone now void of all apps that make a picture brighter, a status more liked, or a smile a little deeper. 
 
A friend once told me, to live a relationship, or meet a person as if it were the last time. I think that’s what I did, and being this great actress that I am, I convinced him that it was the end before we could even have a beginning it seems. 
 
Day 5: We kissed. It was magical. Actually, I remember thinking that he bites a bit much. I was also a little too engrossed in the film he had paused. Oh, and I was thinking about the flare of my patiala and whether he would understand that it’s meant to be ‘over-sized’ or would he think it’s me? So many thoughts. I think I didn’t even pay attention to that kiss. I wonder, was this the beginning to the end? 
 
Day 4: He sent me songs, I sang them in my head. I searched for a goodbye or a fleeting sign of farewell in them. Finding none, I began to doubt his intentions. He asked me if I would be alright if he dropped me home today after work. I asked him ‘Why?’ I was foreign to acts of kindness. Did he take this as a sign of indifference to him being around me? Hell, maybe I am a great actress. Anyway, he did drop me home. We were listening to ‘Dirty Paws‘ when he took my hand in his. He dropped me home with a smile wider than my face. 
 
Day 3: We met at the Club, a few friends of mine tagged along… some were genuinely interested to meet ‘Boy’. I, on the other hand was wondering if my top really looked that good on me. He smiled when he saw me. We held hands under the table, drank beer and whiskey and he seemed genuinely concerned when I fought with a friend who prodded me about failed relationships. He sent me a text, ‘I can’t promise you this will work, but I will never cheat on you.’ That night a small tear slid down my cheek. I felt blessed. 
 
Day 2: It was probably a beer too many, but we laughed, we confessed secrets, we spoke for hours, we shared favourite TV shows and menthol cigarettes. But when I went home, the stars were shining a little brighter, and the world’s troubles seemed a little lighter. We made a promise to see each other again. 
 
Day 1: I downloaded a dating app, and wondered if this is where I would finally meet, the one I’m supposed to, for the rest of my life. 
Feel like screaming yet?
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4 thoughts on “A Confession, with a Story.

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