Story: Tears in tunes

Ah, the time of the year for holidays!
When there’s so much cheer and joy, and the familiar tunes of The First Noel ring.
Somewhere in the world, snow is falling.
Families rejoice at reunion. Lovers share kisses. Children play.

Yet walking amidst the happy faces, one man felt different.
His hands clutched deep within his pockets – not from the biting Winter cold; but from the furnace of pain tearing up his chest.
His legs walked determinately, so different from the weakness within his heart.
How the lyrics sounded uplifting, but his soul felt so beaten, they felt like stale water in a well.

No one could see the streaks on his face, because he had grown to cry in style.
Too many years of practice, with emotions walled behind a mask of coping.
But honestly, even if he sat down bawling on the ground – who would’ve given a damn?
Too festive; too much happiness – and he was out of place.

It wasn’t hatred – some say he didn’t know how to love.
It wasn’t vengeance – some say he didn’t know how to forgive.
It wasn’t unwillingness – some say he didn’t know how to think.
It was because he had tried so hard that he couldn’t try anymore.

Harsh words linger each day, because no one would give him time to speak his mind.
“Why are you hurting?” No. No one bothered to ask why.
“What did you want that you couldn’t have?” No. No one is going to ask.
“What can we do to help you get there?” Oh my god! No. No one’s going to bring problems upon themselves.
No. He didn’t have a problem. It must be because he IS the problem. Nothing’s going to save his soul. “That’s just him,” they’ll say.

So, while It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas echoes down the boulevard, and where these scenes of warmth and love roll out in front of him, his heart felt colder than ever before. Brittle, to say the least.
So crisp and frail that you couldn’t even tell it was a living, beating human organ.
So much that maybe he wished to break it into the the powdered snow, so that he could give up trying.

No, he was not going to have the warmth of a family; or the embrace in a lover’s arms by the fireplace.  He knew not how to stop the tears from falling. Year after year, that was all that could happen, because nothing – nothing could heal him. He had to let the tears fall for so long, until they could wash away the searing pain and let him forget more than he remembered. Crying was the smartest thing he could do, apart from killing himself – because really, nobody’s going to pick up a body at Christmas and deal with it. No, it was too negative. No-one could save him –  because all that would happen is someone would brush him off and tell him that he could not overcome his own sadness for other people’s happiness. Selfish as he may seem – what about them? Would THEY give up their moments of joy for his misery?

Oh the abundance of blessings this Christmas!

Would there be one – just one blessing for him – when the world would stop preaching, and start listening to his tears in the tunes?

A time when I once thought

There was a time when I once thought
that everything was possible.

Where dreams could come true
if we chased hard enough.
Where people could properly love
if we tried hard enough.

And then one day, you realise it’s not going to happen.
Not because you won’t try.
Not because you haven’t tried.
But because – you can’t.

Who said I can’t?
Is it that defeatist voice in my mind
Or that low morale in my heart – you ask?
Neither.

It’s a lesson learnt from being alive;
It’s a message from the people around me;
It’s countless situations that have proven themselves.
It’s reality setting in.

And suddenly, I think no more.
No more wishing for the day I walk in the open fields, hoping  to scale the mountains and seeing the villages on the other end of the peak.
No more wishing to live in place without fear or tears, and where it feels like home.
No more wishing to feel that sense that has since become estranged – that sense of hopefulness and cheer.

There is a time now that I think
Nothing I want is ever possible.

Too long ago

Too long ago was there a feeling of lightness; those moments of laughter and times of joy. Too rare and unfamiliar is a genuine smile from the heart.
Too uncommon is there anyone who would care for the broken.

Everyone embraces the good; bolsters the accomplished.
There are some who subdue evil and fetter the bad.
But the broken remain broken.
Unattended, unnoticed, uncared.

Too long ago.

Wish upon the impossible

That empty field where a rundown building pops up in the middle, without a name. Just some rickety broken barn doors, seemingly abandoned. But wait, a line of cars surround this building.
Oh, it’s a cafe for those who wish for a quiet moment. And it’s beautiful inside.

A church standing at the edge of town. Nobody ever goes there. The good, the bad, the kind, the evil. Nobody ever goes there. But wait, there’s just a few familiar faces who would visit once a year, saying their prayers in light murmurs. The sunlight seeps in through the stained glass windows from high above. There is peace in there.

It’s a different life out there. It’s a different world.
Where people go their own ways and walk their own paths.
Where people don’t judge.

But not everyone can make their way out to this new world.
Would I? Can I? What does it change, when time plays a little trick and put us years behind?

Wrong place, wrong time.

 

Yet another year

It’s been yet another year that has passed, with little change, little progress, little anything.

Except memories.
And problems.
And considerations.

That’s what “future” looked like, a year ago.

Ah, the dangers of the festive season. Some see its beauty, others – melancholy.

No phone?

Do you remember those days when we would set an appointment with friends to meet at a specific time and place?

No. No-one remembers those days.

“What do you mean you won’t have a phone for a few days?”
“How in the world am I going to be able to find you later?”
“Which street, again?”
“What if I can’t make it at this time tomorrow?”

Do we wonder how we used to be able to remember days, dates, places, and directions so much better in the past?

More so – we were once more responsible.
We were more specific – we had to make sure we would see the ones we wished to see.
We were more organised – we planned our day and gave buffer for traveling and traffic.
We were more reliable – it wasn’t as easy as sending a text when we wanted to cancel appointments.

It wasn’t going offline that mattered. It was what the phone and laptops held that mattered. I did not suffer from phone separation technology, though I did get a good lashing from many for going off the grid. But really, how long can we remain offline?
Ah, the dangers of technology…

what did you expect?

What did you want?
What did you decide?
What did you expect?

What didn’t you know?
What didn’t you understand?
What didn’t you get?

Some days, when expectations and hopes get high, disappointment strikes hard and misery cripples even the most rational of minds.

it’s been awhile

it’s been awhile since words were scribbled.
it’s been awhile since the mind worked.
it’s been awhile since the heart could express itself.

but such is life. when things die away, it takes time to get over it.
and sometimes, even time cannot heal.

worthlessness

The concept of worthlessness was thoroughly explored, examined, and assessed. It was great. It was immense. It was poignant. It was everything that made a person feel terrible. It was what made a person die inside. It was something that could kill. It was tedious. It was horrendous. It was ….

It was simply too tiring to complete this post.

Balancing act

 

Some people say things they don’t mean.
Others say things they don’t know if they mean.

Some times we trust.
Other times, we think we trust.

Some take words lightly.
Others take light words seriously.

How do we balance the emotions of indebtedness against the strong resistance to trust?
How do we tell when to say what we feel, and when to trust what others say they feel?