“The worst things in life come free to us.” – Ed Sheeran
The truth about life, truly is, that no one has it all. I may be one simple girl walking along the lines between reality and fantasy, falsely hoping to get lost in the latter when things got hard. Unbearably difficult, to the point where I was brought to my knees, tucked in the corner as I whispered incoherently about how nothing would come out and hurt me. I’d pray the screams would cease, the rapping at the window would soften to a mere whisper of the wind. The battering rams that were misconceptions and blunders of words would falter. Helplessly watch a once-smitten pair beat down the rift that was comfort. Gradually desensitize who you were, your hopes on true love. I felt like a tide beating against waves, failing every attempt at coming to shore. I had to cup my sibling’s face and tell her it was alright, and at the worst of it all, I had to grasp her and with a raspy voice, tuck her against me and whisper lies about how it would all fall into place. I felt I had to grow up to fast, taking hastily to life. Harshly brought up un-affectionately. Bluntness at the end of every forced hand. But with every shout, every push, every lie, I managed to find a way through it all.
Every tear poured, every sleepless night, every lonely gesture, slowly fades into dis-existence, when you find yourself that with the people who await you eagerly, even when they are few, it’s the one thing that’s had you going, the one thing you love, helps you grit your teeth and brush off the deep wounds, the dry blood, and trudge through every grueling mistake. Just when you’re about to throw in the towel, they’ll always appear, and you find yourself with a smile.
The thing about us people is, we don’t know how to love, we depend on others to show us. We expect them to show us the first act of kindness, the first smile, the first beautiful glance into who we are. And sometimes that’s just what we need, but at others, we may need to do the same for them.
Because recently, I’ve seen many end it before they were ever given a chance, never stopping to ponder how others have it, and are only left with putrid regret. Words left unsaid, tears left unshed, bodies left bare of self-worth. Only sullen grievance emanates from their souls, their eyes just as dark as their smiles. And it hurts, not just for them, but for those who secretly care, but are too afraid to speak. Speak until it’s too late, until the one they cared for can no longer speak, the breath of life gone from their pale figures.
In order for that to change we must be willing to give a voice.
Even if you’re struggling, you’ve only to smile, and you could just save a life. Laugh at the smallest of things, pray whenever you find it possible, open a book, point to the stars and count the finite spread. Scribble madly until you’ve made a point, and count the ways it could be better, live in the now, for the one thing you care for. So, in the end, I was never whispering lies, but the promise of a better beginning. Some that are bound to come along, for nothing can last forever.