Until one day, the sea woke up and felt like it didn’t want to reflect the aesthetic, clear and sparkling sky above it. “I’m tired. I’m tired of always having to colour myself differently everyday.”
The sea had so much monsters swimming in its core but the sea refused to show that side of her. Every day the sea was asked to reflect a different entity. When the sky was angry, the sea would roar into a fit of waves and tides. When the sky felt happy, the sea would be mesmerising like a shimmering diamond.
The sea was identity-less.
“Why can’t I speak up, for once in my life, why can’t I reveal the black waters I really am.”.
Days and nights the sea would hide under its mask of beauty. Days and nights the sea would get bigger. Its
melancholic tears would rise higher.
Until one day, the sea woke up and felt like it didn’t want to reflect the aesthetic, clear and sparkling sky above it. Until one day, the sea brushed away the colours of the sky, the ends of the rainbows, the glitter of the sun and exhibited what it truly is.
And from that day on, my boy, I have not sailed the sea once. And my boat floats on this shore for you and I to enjoy the midnight stars; and only the midnight stars.
Once upon a time there was a little boy. A little boy who believed in dragons, unicorns and wizards. He was always very confused of their debatable presence but never of their solid existence. One day the little boy was walking home when he bumped into a new toy store. The store had a huge dragon teddy bear. The little boy knew he hadn’t enough cash in his pockets to own his always desired dragon and so he decided he’d pass by the toy store every single day and -seemingly- somehow own the dragon. Every day after school the little boy will pop by the toy store to check on his dragon before heading home. Eventually, the dragon learnt everything about the little boy; although giving no response at all, the dragon would attentively listen. The little boy never understood why the dragon never responded back but was fairly content that he has a dragon as a friend. Until one day, the dragon was gone. The boy asked the shop keeper where he’l had gone and the shop keeper mentioned that someone bought the dragon. The little boy was devastated. For days he’d pass by the shop hoping that the dragon would come back to see him, to say his -never said- goodbyes, but he never did. The little boy established that dragons don’t exist. He finally understood why his teacher told him dragons only happen in fairy tails. “If the dragon was real, he’d have said goodbye.” “If the dragon was real, he would have feelings and he wouldn’t have left.” The little boy felt pathetic and naive.
20 years later, the little boy became Tom. Just like every other Tom. He goes to work, he goes home tired, sleeps, goes to work, and so on. His days were pretty much like a jammed tape repeating the same 10 seconds over and over again. Nothing bigger than a routine. Until one day, Tom met Lucy. Lucy was beautiful. Lucy made Tom smile. Just like the dragon made the little boy smile. She listened to Tom. She made Tom’s Mondays differ from his Tuesdays, differ from his Wednesdays, differ from his Thursdays… Tom loved Lucy. They spent summers and winters together. Tom believed Lucy wasn’t real. She was too good to be true. Then one day, Lucy left. She never said goodbye. Tom was devastated. He went home feeling pathetic and naive.
She was real, she wasn’t like the dragon, she wasn’t a stuffed animal, she was real and she left. She was real and she left and she never told Tom goodbye. The little boy was wrong to believe that entities without feelings aren’t real. Reality stings. And anything that stings is real.
Lucy was real, the dragon was real. They were both real because they both left bruises and aches and scars and stings. They were both real because they weren’t opiate. They were both real because realism is a race for survival and only the realistic is fittest to survive.
And then it hit me, I’m halfway through a year that had -as seemed- just started yesterday. Was it that hard to succumb the fact that a hefty lot of time has passed so unnoticed? Yes, it was. It wasn’t just hard, it was shocking. I tried to shake off my bewilderedness, got a pen and paper and attempted to jot down what I’ve done -differently- in the past couple of months. What good I’ve done to the world and to myself; what step I took forward that was drastically life changing. I came up with absolutely nothing. We, humans, are foolish. We think that time is so valuable and we even compare it to gold. But would any of us possibly watch our treasured gold being taken away from us and not try to stop it from happening? Much say that it isn’t our fault. Life is synonym to routine. And routine eliminates the significance of a tomorrow, like an unwrapped Christmas gift. No one would grab an unwrapped gift, when there are lots of other wrapped ones under the tree. It’s innate. We love surprises. We are lured when we do not know. And that’s exactly why this life no longer interests us. We can write a book about our not-yet-here future that would not be any different from what is truly planned ahead of us. There are no surprises packaged, only disappointments. At least we know how life works now. We’re not those tiny little kids anymore running around in a playground waiting to grow older, waiting to gain a little more height to climb the largest tree. We know that if we climb the largest tree, we won’t be able to get down. So we just stay where we are, and watch the birds fly to the highest summit flapping the wings of our lost hopes and dreams.