A LITTLE LOST, A LITTLE BLUE.

Contrary to what people see when they watch my smiles…”oh, she is always happy”, “oh, what a happy child!”, I have known pain. Sometimes, it is very direct. At other times, I can feel it rolling off my friends in waves. I have a large drum reserved for painful memories. Sad thing is that it never gets full. It is always half empty or half full. Such was its state when Isobel ran into the room that sunny day. The air around her was ripe with gloom and I could see that she was so engrossed in her pain that she did not notice that she had thrown my half-eaten cookie to the floor in her whirl windy haste.  I went towards her and was about to request that she give me another cookie from her coat pocket. I knew she had just come from the phone booth that was beside the snack store, and like me, she would always buy a packet as a passerby. I was shocked to see that there was already a stagnant pool on her mackintosh – she was crying. I made a move to share in the hurt, then I saw that she was pulling out her diary to write. In my curiosity and with my perfect eyesight, I watched from the shadows as her ink raced across the pages in a wicked blur. Here’s a peek at that page. Dear Zoe, I know I have an epistle to write, Too many words clashing in my head. My heart is struggling to let go, It's seeking closure, it's seeking peace. I'm wary from thought, had to break all the pieces down to understand Could a word so simple be that vile? All the memories from that day have suddenly come rushing like an Ocean overflowing its banks. The route is not the same, but then, all trees look alike, Not those alone, even the red sands and the mud houses and the long roads and the people from afar. Suffice it to say that it was like a photocopy in my head. I'm sure that I can show you specific spots where I had to hold tears, or where I had particular memories or where I helped that little boy do his business. I could show you that foreign woman that insisted on over billing me for using that public restroom. That was the strongest I had to ever be in my life. No one had ever abandoned me before that day. It started as a small niggling doubt My heart skipped one then 2 beats I realized that I almost had a panic attack coming on. Since I was not at one point, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. I could scarcely believe it. I was certainly afraid, I only started to realize it when I looked at all the trees passing by and I was reminded again of when my heart tearlessly broke into a million tiny pieces.<img src="/media/inline_insight_image/Diary 2.jpeg" style="background-color: transparent;" alt=""> I heard that faint sound within me, It sounded like something was wrecked inside my already broken self. Looking in, I see my soul in tatters. How could a love so pure leave me so fast? How will life go on? I called you up to get into your head The words you hurl break me more than you can understand. My creative vibes have become my roasting stick. Who am I to blame, except the one "me"? You think I never cared; I get that. You think I love another, that too is well aimed, but, What do you mean when you say I was not enough? You, the one person I gave free reign? Touché!!! I thought you'd know me better. You should apologize for the hurt you caused. The deep wounds you cut went deeper Hacked and hacked till all my layers were off Somehow, I'd have preferred your fits No, not your fists, but a different form of the anger. Then again, I don't deserve it, I didn't do anything to call it to me. I'd miss you when you’re not nearby, Want you close, always there. Want you to hold my hand, play with it Grab my hugs, feel the heat. Look into my eyes and see my heart, Melt the heart with your own fiery wreath, To keep me locked in, just beyond the edge.. After today though, the boy would be my past, forever. <img src="/media/inline_insight_image/Diary pics 3.webp" alt=""> She then took a deep breath, and laid down to sleep, still fully dressed, face awash with tears, she slept the sleep of the dead, plagued with dreams. I moved out of the shadows and like a trick, put this memory in my memory drum, and laid down beside her. She was after all, a friend so dear and reminded me of a younger version of me. With the pain off her chest, she was able to rest. You should let go of the pain too, anyway you know how. Isobel wrote the pain away- she's painfully skilled at that. You could try crying it away, or talking it away, or some other way. Burying it means it hasn't gone away. You just saved it for the next landslide.

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