Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

But then I get so numb with all the laughter.

"I am almost a hundred years old; waiting for the end, and thinking about the beginning.
There are things I need to tell you, but would you listen if I told you how quickly time passes?
I know you are unable to imagine this.
Nevertheless, I can tell you that you will awake someday to find that your life has rushed by at a speed at once impossible and cruel. The most intense moments will seem to have occurred only yesterday and nothing will have erased the pain and pleasure, the impossible intensity of love and its dog-leaping happiness, the bleak blackness of passions unrequited, or unexpressed, or unresolved."
— Meg Rosoff, What I was.


The hallway was filled with inaudible sounds of people who were walking around and waiting in line. She fidgeted nervously as she waited for her turn. Everyone had their reason to be there; hers was to get over to the other side to reunite with what she dearly remembers as familiar faces and a feeling of safeness. In a crowded scene of unfamiliarity, she was anxious to crossover to the other side. The awaited anticipation of a memorably pleasant experience was put in place. No one was spared of the overwhelming tsunami of positive vibes that was seemingly promised to flood the emotional gateway in a timely manner.

With her loyal companion on one hand and a bag of issues on the other, she watched as a person of the opposite gender began to approach her. The male person had an animal right beside him as well, but she could not quite make of what species the puzzling presence might be classified under. Little response was provided to the male person with every attempt at correspondence; she did not decline his initiatives, but she maintained a polite nonchalance at all times. The male person received a nudge from his accompanying animal who was expressing acknowledgement of having detected the smell of her perfume.

Her scent was initially meant to be sweet, coupled with a tinge of sweat sliding down the side of her face onto her neck and a barely noticeable patch of facial oil gathered around the pores of her nose, and it appeared to be musky under the odd occurrence of the current circumstance. Appalled by the sudden entrance of a male person who did not offer any introduction, she kept close to her loyal companion. Crossing her legs as she moved to take over the seat of a leaving person, the male person followed without giving any verbal indication for his persistently perplexing actions. 

Maintaining his identity as a stranger, the male person turned towards her and had a go at casually cross-examining the biological details of the loyal companion sitting calmly beside her. In comparison to the loyal companion situated conveniently next to her left leg for protection, her right leg was feeling feeble and it would not stop trembling in the presence of the male person. From the inception of the shakiness in the psychological wellness of the mind to making a determined decision in feigning a reaction formation, she had a premonition that something beyond her control was going to take place right in front of her eyes.

No amount of screams or cries would make a difference as she watched her loyal companion being led away from her. She could not physically grasp nor clutch on to the memories and lovely encounters she had shared personally with the loyal companion. Nothing was spared, every possible attempt at reminiscing all images of bliss and joy was recalled and replaced with a dust-filled darkness of retrospection. It was muddy—as though the retrieval of those memories that were worthy of remembrance required  feelings of contentment while wading through a densely covered area with insoluble masks of slush.

It felt as if she had to stay awake and pretend to be alright, or else she would risk passing out into the depths of the unknown and be reduced towards a rock bottom where her self-esteem would disappear beneath the dirt—never to be found again.  Left carrying the baggage of problems, she was left stranded without a sense of security. Any form of pursuit to locate her loyal companion or the mere action of piecing up the remains of her self-esteem seemed to only dim her hopes on the reality that existed in its entirety in front of her. Her acceptance of it nor any help attempted to reconcile the brokenness would not facilitate the process of recovery; it smashed the last beliefs in humanity and slit an opening of darkness instead.

Life. The notion of living began to be associated with a defeat. Having control over time diminished completely. Hopelessness was overwhelming. It was difficult to pretend that a life boat would arrive to offer some form of salvage in life. It was even harder to imagine a team of people who would come down to the scene to put out the scorching fire and grant some gratitude towards life. It was most challenging to get both feet back on the ground and move on with life.

It seemed simple. The male person would no longer be seen in her life after this incident, or so she would have thought. She would never know his name, nor be allowed an explanation that would be deemed valid to her. It was no longer because she was female and he was a male person; she wasn't even allowed a fighting chance to reclaim her loss and grieve healthily.

No matter how tough it was going to be for her in the coming years, she made damn sure that she was going to recover someday. Pumping fists in the air would not provide any advantage over the male person who just walked so easily out of this mess he created for her. She was going to prove her worth by becoming someone who could feel proud of herself in ways where nothing the male person does could ever bring her down or make her feel any form of loss ever again.

The loss of the loyal companion served as a token of reminder for wars that begin before any form of defense could be prepared. Nothing needed to be fair in this life, as it all happens naturally. Every thing happens for a reason; an undeniable fact that should only encourage people to move on and shun away from any negative experience that could trigger a breakdown. 

Schwein. Muttering silently under her breath, as she finally figured out what category the animal could possibly be classified under. The realisation brought nothing beneficial to the entire situation; in fact, it was brought out of context to the extent that it required some intervention. 

Was it really necessary? It all started out with a pleasant day until the negative reinforcement was induced for no apparent reason. The feelings that followed—in trying to recoup loss and avoiding unnecessary feelings of trauma and fear—negated every opportunity at making a comeback. Was it really necessary, at all?



That I forget about the pain.


Popular Posts