Post It

twenty-two

    As I head to my next destination I amuse myself not with music, although that would be the most natural thing to do after what I just experienced, but instead I remember those few exchanges that allowed H to know music is important to me. I really don't think he's being selfish by sharing these experiences with me, by hoping I'll also love what he is passionate about. In fact I do think it’s selfless of him to share experiences that are so important to him, to let me see for myself what it feels like before he really explains why he sent me there. A selfish person wouldn't tell the rest about the things he loves. And not only that, he always has in mind the kind of things I could enjoy as well. I’m sure H is the kind to have many favourite activities but somehow he always remembers something I've previously shared and tries to connect both his preferences and mine. And in my opinion that is wonderful, that he manages to be so thoughtful and kind and open at the same time.

For what I've noticed, people tend to be very self-centred, but not in a bad way. I mean, we live our lives, not others' so it makes sense we are our first priority. Our problems make us lose sleep, our heartaches make us cry, our mistakes make us disappointed and it's because we experience them first hand. By nature other people's difficulties or likes take a secondary role. We don't do this because we don't care, but because it's just how we work. Being the other way isn't healthy either, I think, because if we don't take care of ourselves, if we don't care about what's happening to us first, who's going to do it instead? So I really find marvellous how H manages to care about his insecurities and anxieties regard meeting me—which are also my worries—and also taking into consideration my own preferences. He merges our post-it interactions smoothly and that touches me deeply.

Post-its are such small pieces of paper and you can't share much there, but somehow we've managed to let the other know about our likes and dislikes, about our personalities. It's not only him showing me his world, it is also me letting him know me and I didn't even realise until now that I had done that. When I tell my therapist about this I'm sure he'll be proud of the things I've done, the truths I've realised and the problems I've figured out during this journey.

I've always been conscious of how evolving life is. As someone who studies language and how changing this is, I'm aware that just like language is a representation of the world and culture, these also change every minute. I just assumed that changes in human beings took longer because a person can't change in one minute, right? A person can't change in one day.

But I was wrong.

A person can change in one second, if it is the right second. One experience is the trigger for a completely different view of life. One encounter can show us something we never imagined and that will change us. Life, people can change in the blink of an eye so it's not crazy to say that as of now I feel like a different person. I'm not the same Macarena that left home this morning and when I go back home I won't be the same. As this morning’s Macarena wasn't the same as yesterday’s or even last week’s. Even if I isolate myself, even if I don't interact with others I'm still part of this world and with every second I spend in I changes. All what H has made me do so far has only changed me further and faster. And all through words.

There's a saying that goes: stick and stones might break my bones but words will never hurt me. And I disagree with it. I love language, I study it and I do believe in the power of words. Yes, stick and stones might cause a lot of physical pain, but I will always recover from that. I'll go to the hospital and eventually heal. Words can create and kill in seconds and the damage is far greater than what stick and stones might do. Emotional death is worse than physical death, in my opinion. Going on whilst you're dead inside is far more cruel than actually dying.