when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.”
― Ellen Bass
I rarely write here anymore. and sometimes I ask myself why.
It's not like I'm upto here with work or have a vibrant social life to keep me away from my desk. Heck, most days I fall asleep right on top of my keyboard for crying out loud!
So I went back and read through all the ramblings I've amassed here over the years. And what I realized was that, it was I who made this place the mess that it is today. What used to be place to share my crooked view of the world and have a good laugh about it, had been turned to an account of (mainly) the low points in my life.
Over the last couple of years, many times I have opened up my blogger dashboard and tried to put down something in words, but once the slew of depressing posts caught my eye, it was a just another quick trip to the close button.
I'm hit by the realization that I have been overtly selfish. Never content, always yearning for something more out of life, while failing to appreciate the things that I had. Maybe this was the thing that kept me from any glimpse of success this far in my life.
The last few months have been incredibly educational. Finding out that you have become more of a whining old boy than a responsible young man is a realization that can really hit you hard in the face.
Sure, they tell you that growing up ruins you. that baby fat and anime eyes may give way to gray hairs and wrinkles on your brow, but that you should never let that innocence inside die.
But here I was, still stuck at childhood's end, searching for a direction when I could have figured it out for myself all along, had I taken the effort.
You could say that I'm a late bloomer. Whatever. Better late than never, right?
Life has taught many lessons. I have learnt that a single morsel of food fed from my mother's hand is more fulfilling than anything I could buy anywhere in this planet. I may not exactly be the social butterfly, but I have my close circle of friends, whom I could give my life for. If any of you ****ers is reading this, just close your eyes and smile to yourself. I'm sure that your ears must have grown callouses from listening to my incessant whining. It won't happen again, I promise.
And most important of all, I have learnt that the best help one can recieve is as they say, self help. Because ultimately, several rungs down, you're the one that knows your heart the best, and what it really desires.
I still go back and read The Alchemist once in a while. And there is a reason it remains one of my most favorite books. Take any excerpt from any of those pages, and you'll only find words to live by.
Realizing that I could have mattered more in life if I had listened to my heart when life presented me with a choice three years back. Actually taking action to make up for the lost time. The step from one to the other is a big one, yet a simple one that i could have made in my sleep. All it takes is a shift in the state of mind.
I used to worry continuously what people thought about me. I could always picture the judging eyes of people as a searing ray of hate concentrated on a tiny, painful spot on the back of my neck.
The long hair, the sleep-deprived eyes, low grades in a subject that I'm never even gonna use again in my life, even my taste in music -- people always find something to complain about.
But now I just don't care. I realize that the time spent giving ear to their judgments is just wasted time. Hate all you want, but one day you'll be screaming my name. That's one way to deal with the haters and so far it's workin out for me ;)
I ran across this beautiful quote the other day, and I've decided to print it out in big helvetica font and hang it over my desk :
"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten"