Have you ever met someone who was murdered in cold blood, veins popped out, death clock dancing on their head yet revived without any prayers? You meet it everyday. Your ever so beating, ever so throbbing, blazing heart.
A simple token of appreciation might not compensate the numbness, the sufferings, the cold nights it went through over the years. The chaos of silent thoughts, the endless worries in slumber-less nights have a peculiar way to putting the heart at the precipice of life where it shrinks in fear, gets paranoid over sedated emotions, stifling the insomniac doubts that it feels like bursting out and jumping off the cliff of voidness yet you find it beating hard the very next morning.
A facade to fool that you are intact with brokenness as a distant relative.
The world is a strange place. It poisons us with lies rubbing against our own lips, tricking us into the shenanigans of always(s) and forever(s) and when we start to believe this butter-coated little prisons we realise we are already trapped in now. And what cripples us, is the condition that we could fly away from all this only if our wings weren’t clipped.
Those wings are present, always there with us. But we are tormented to believe that our wings were ravaged while fighting the war and had been snatched away from us.
In those conflicts, standing at the crossroads our hearts has some humongous bravery in choosing a path called ‘moving on’ and closing the gates (a straight doorway of relapsing) of ‘closer’ whether we got it or not.
The heartbreaks, the first time you left your childhood home, moving to a school where you are lot less loved or paid attention to, witnessing the first death in the family, the first time realising you aren’t born gifted and your parents silently adore other children, betrayals from friends, family or lovers, someone else’s anger when directed to you, toxic and demotivating people around, abandonment issues, acceptability issues and a lot lot more this heart goes through.
The pain you needed to grow,
The pain you never needed to stay traumatized for years to come- the heart takes all.
It heals. It keeps on healing and sometimes they’re wounds or pain it never recovers from yet it finds a way of dealing with it everyday. Through daily chores, through menial work, through day-to-day businesses, in consistent patterns, until it finally finds a day where it rests. Gives itself a break, a vacay until the next cycle of uncertainties begins.
So, these words are dedicated to a healing heart for being so strong and brave. Pat yourself for being courageous and valiant sustaining all that you are going through.
Let’s just say, I’m proud of the way you’re holding up lately.