Chapter 1:
Mantras
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away....." Corinthians 13:4-8
They usually recite it as though some kindergarten ABCDs; at weddings.
I can vividly hear that pastor’s voice echo in my ear, sounding it over and over again like it was just yesterday.
The happy bride with her white glittery dress and a wide- bright smile;-beautiful, and the smitten groom overjoyed with eyes full of love for none but his beautiful bride, the one woman he picked out of many girls, the woman his heart chose, the one his heart beats for; wait, the one who is, as a matter of fact his very own heart that beats within his chest.
It’s a beautiful sight. A heart-warming ambiance and an unforgettable moment, too. It’s a place you would never wonna leave. Even the wicket do like to go back to this moment of one’s life before they strike their double edged blade at you. It is every one’s life defining moment, their best day, and perfect day, at least this is the story everyone is led to believe... Regardless, this isn't a reality for all.
For a child who had stood on the side-lines for her entire life, the girl who endured so much pain, pain that usually cuts her throat into half like a nasty heartburn with each memory of it. The details always crippling and gut wrenchingly painful so she would rather not go into, lest she loses her foothold on the ground and let the depression,-the very one she worked so hard to survive before; take her hostage this time. Sometimes she worries if she can ever win that war again. God forbid!
For a child who has always stood on the side-lines and watched other people’s love stories with happy endings, she promised herself that one day, some day that only God knows, she will find the courage and strength to let go of her pain and let in the love and joy that she could only see from afar as a sneak pick of others life stories. She wowed that she will let it all in, into her life and on this day she shall scream "I am alive!"
So she watched and watched and watched, how the happy and loved lived. She would lark around people’s windows at night, just to watch what happens at the dinner tables during meals. The chatter and laughter would overwhelm her.
"Is this what happiness looks like."~
She would think to herself.
The smiles and occasional facial caressing she would see, the swift looks full of love they would share as they feed each other and the giggles that would come along with the little catch games they would play with the food; and to herself she would say;
"It’s impossible to not want this. It would be sinful and foolish not to. This is beautiful and everyone deserves beautiful. Even I deserve beautiful."
"This is my dream..."
This, she would say with a voice choking with tears, as though she’s got a frog on her throat, but not because of pain this time, because of the disbelieve that something so beautiful and as though seemingly exotic, does exist yet the world, no; her world rather, seems to know nothing of such a breath-taking existence.
“Why is my world filled with nothing but pain and bickering and fighting and blood and hate and loss and tears and fear and...”
Then she would grovel back to her own world only because she had no other option but to do so and just like clockwork, the cascade of pain, hurt and emotions would overtake her and in a moment of desperation and emotional exhaustion she would scream,
"daddy please make it stop... please; it has to stop."
They say the nights are dark and full of terrors...
In the lonely nights, scared out of her mind and body, unable to catch a sleep for closing her eyes felt as if she would never wake,-even that was scary. Everything was scary...
She would curl her body tiny crunched up under that old spring bed with the bed cover draping down to hide her. This felt almost like her safe haven where she would hide and for a moment feel safe; and repeatedly chant a single mantra over and over;
" please change my story. Please change my story.”
~saying it so many times with tears gashing out of her eyes, running down her muddy face, until they dry out again; still she would be at it. This was her prayer. Her only prayer;~ for someone to come along and change her story... eventually she would fall asleep, thank God for small mercies.
In the pursuit of a still moment, a moment where there is absolute silence in her mind, peace; a moment where she would find herself again, connect with herself so that she may never forget whom she really was because of all her circumstances. In that moment, she knew that one day, she would be able to let go and live, and if ever she wanted to live to see that day come, she had to do something about her circumstances and so she devised a coping mechanism. Since she was all alone but in desperate need of someone to talk to, someone who could understand her but it seemed only she could…
Therein, she started writing notes to self that reminded her that it happened. All of it. It happened. It’s not happening...
[Side note: informal]
Death. Existence. Life.
To be continued...
#poetry #amatuerwriters #love #broken #pieces #lovestories #amtuers@love #live
