"More than 50,000 years of speech, 6,500 languages and still sometimes, we can't find that one word that could explain all the feelings engraved deeply our skins completely. Tragic, isn't it?"
He looks at me and smiles.
"Very. And what made you think of it?", he asks.
I point out to a boy in a blue shirt and whisper, "He".
"A lover from the past?"
"A tragic from the past", I correct him.
"A beautiful tragic?", he asks.
"How is a tragic supposed to be beautiful? How is a heartbreak supposed to be poetic? How is replaying conversations and reading old texts from the lost love supposed to be romantic? Don't say such things. It only makes me wonder how utterly dumb humans are to portray pain as something exquisite".
"Chill down, Madame. You seem angry."
"I feel empty", I whisper.
"You have a beautiful heart. Someone will see that and won't leave."
"Oh no, we don't use this heart anymore. It's too fragile."
"Oh, shut up. Sometimes, to be powerful is to be fragile. Everytime it rains and thunders, it stops raining. Everytime you sit alone in the balcony drowning in the questions haunting from your past and watching the starry sky, it slowly disappears into nothingness and a tinge of orange and blue lighting up the entire vault of heaven. Everytime you are hurt, you heal. And everytime it's utterly dark, there is light but still... but still you choose to believe that the dark shall avail and you shall never see the light of the day. And you seem to forget that nothing shall last forever—neither the best nor the worst. So you might as well stop whining and start smiling while you are alive.
I understand that there are days when you can't find the sunshine even when it's just outside your small window. But you need to remind yourself that you have been the only one who carried yourself through all of your pain and heartbreaks. You are the only one who sits alone and cries in the corner of the room and then wipe your eyes and tries to smile. You should never forget that you are the only one who sits with your numb cold body under the running shower and then picks it up, and dries it and warms it and takes care of it. You are the one who feeds it an entire tub of ice cream even when you aren't hungry, and watches romantic comedies when you are sad, and sways to the tunes of Coldplay so that you fall asleep peacefully and wakes up everyday so that you remember that you have another chance to minimise your ache by doing all the things that you can while you wish to heal. Instead of being sad, you should be proud of yourself. While everyone around you is trying to hurt you and numb you and bleed you dry, you fight and stand up and pick yourself up everyday—and sometimes, sometimes that's all that you need.
These mountains of heaviness that you are carrying on your chest, you were only supposed to scale them. And when you finally let go of it all, and start breathing without trying to replay everything on your mind until it chokes you—that, that is the strongest thing in the universe. To take care of yourself no matter how hard the situations are—that, that is the strongest thing in the universe."
The Storytellers.
He looks at me and smiles.
"Very. And what made you think of it?", he asks.
I point out to a boy in a blue shirt and whisper, "He".
"A lover from the past?"
"A tragic from the past", I correct him.
"A beautiful tragic?", he asks.
"How is a tragic supposed to be beautiful? How is a heartbreak supposed to be poetic? How is replaying conversations and reading old texts from the lost love supposed to be romantic? Don't say such things. It only makes me wonder how utterly dumb humans are to portray pain as something exquisite".
"Chill down, Madame. You seem angry."
"I feel empty", I whisper.
"You have a beautiful heart. Someone will see that and won't leave."
"Oh no, we don't use this heart anymore. It's too fragile."
"Oh, shut up. Sometimes, to be powerful is to be fragile. Everytime it rains and thunders, it stops raining. Everytime you sit alone in the balcony drowning in the questions haunting from your past and watching the starry sky, it slowly disappears into nothingness and a tinge of orange and blue lighting up the entire vault of heaven. Everytime you are hurt, you heal. And everytime it's utterly dark, there is light but still... but still you choose to believe that the dark shall avail and you shall never see the light of the day. And you seem to forget that nothing shall last forever—neither the best nor the worst. So you might as well stop whining and start smiling while you are alive.
I understand that there are days when you can't find the sunshine even when it's just outside your small window. But you need to remind yourself that you have been the only one who carried yourself through all of your pain and heartbreaks. You are the only one who sits alone and cries in the corner of the room and then wipe your eyes and tries to smile. You should never forget that you are the only one who sits with your numb cold body under the running shower and then picks it up, and dries it and warms it and takes care of it. You are the one who feeds it an entire tub of ice cream even when you aren't hungry, and watches romantic comedies when you are sad, and sways to the tunes of Coldplay so that you fall asleep peacefully and wakes up everyday so that you remember that you have another chance to minimise your ache by doing all the things that you can while you wish to heal. Instead of being sad, you should be proud of yourself. While everyone around you is trying to hurt you and numb you and bleed you dry, you fight and stand up and pick yourself up everyday—and sometimes, sometimes that's all that you need.
These mountains of heaviness that you are carrying on your chest, you were only supposed to scale them. And when you finally let go of it all, and start breathing without trying to replay everything on your mind until it chokes you—that, that is the strongest thing in the universe. To take care of yourself no matter how hard the situations are—that, that is the strongest thing in the universe."
The Storytellers.
Comments