Split…

mischievouswordsbymartaazra

Today I just want to write. In the old fashion way. I want ink stained hands and crumpled pages of paper. I want to smell the old books in the room. And I want a cup of coffee.

Quiet corner and hut under snow. I want solitude. I want silence. I want to find out who I am, again.

Everyone starts their stories with how it all began. When it comes to me and my states of mind, depression and other weird phenomena, I have no idea how it started. It snacked in mean and silent like a fox to a hen, without even noticing that something was missing. And so, little by little, I was disappearing. I was missing part by part, until it seemed like nothing left of the old me.

I didn’t like that stranger I looked in the mirror.

She had none of my cheerfulness and admiration for life and Divine Creation itself. She was not charismatic and able to pull the masses to join her on the march to anything.

Because that charismatic part of me was changing the course of things, could get anyone to change their minds or do anything. Not by deceiving but by the strength of her own self-confidence, leading her to think that she is mistaken and that the only logical thing is that which is logical to me. How real is the only thing that is real to me.

It was wonderful to be that person. Self-assured on the verge of arrogance but never beyond it.

She is beautiful and aware that she is beautiful not by spreading herself but by spreading the beauty around her. The beauty of the spirit. The beauty of limitless imagination. The beauty of believing that anything is possible and will certainly change the world, or at least leave an unforgettable mark in the sands of time. In her world, there was no time for doubt, questioning decisions, shame, blaming herself and others. In her present world there is just no time. Nothing important matters time.

How I just wanted to kill that new intruder, wipe her off the ground, forget she ever existed. Just rip her from the depths of myself and bury her, slaughter her and rip out her throat so I would never hear her voice again. Her condemnations. Her doubts. Her thoughts. The guilt that poisons me.

And so while I just wanted to tear her to pieces, pack her in a black bag and bury her somewhere where even the sun’s air would never warm her again, I know I just had to hug her and forgive her. Because she did it all out of a desire to protect me, to save me. Not realizing that the only salvation I needed was the salvation from her (me) alone.

And so, I take the only thing in common with this person I am terrified of having: I take the flower we both love most.

I take a small sunflower and throw it in the river to carry it away, along with her. To give her a little consolation, that symbol of joy and life, as she goes out in her way without returning, aware that I give up her completely. That I never want her around again. That I don’t need her anymore. And that I forgive her.

Because we were just like our favorite flower; I was his morning incarnation seeking the light and sun and opening up to the world. She was the dusk and the night: hanged heads, fluttered, closed, squeezed and dormant, blinking in front of the World, afraid to show her face, afraid not to see her, and afraid to see if they looked. Hiding in herself, deprived of courage and those life sparks, she slowly and surely withered away. And then she faded away.

Fortunately, as she had never been a fighter, as she had always let her life defeat her, beat her and throw her and hit her like a wave against a rock, cruelly and without mercy, she let me win. And I won.

Published by mischievouswordsbymartaazra

A dancer, a writter and a photographer who enjoys every moment in life

31 thoughts on “Split…”

  4. Very nice narration of thoughts. Sometimes, we realized we have that personality different from the one we accustomed. We need to hug, to carry and love that 2nd person because he is part of you, part of your history and part of what you are today. So, lets just spread love.

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  6. This is why self reflection is very important. Change is the only constant thing in this world, and that includes our being. This is a personal experience that’s beautifully narrated.

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  8. Sometimes we are our own cages and we become who we are not because of nasty experiences. At the end of the day, we have to become who we truly are and embrace those experiences as lessons that are meant to make us tougher and better. Nice post.

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  9. This is the post that makes me trigger to reflect also on myself, on what I have done so far, and what I must do further. Thanks for your beautiful blog.

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  16. Wow this really spoke to me. I think we have all been there in some way, when we realise it’s time to release our doubt monster, when we allow ourselves to be strong enough with out her to that degree. Amazing and relatable read!

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  20. I like when you say you just have to hug and forgive her, we all go through tough times some hard than others and different degree to everyone. Beautiful writting. Loved reading this.

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  23. Whilst reading this I had a strange feeling that you could see me. I can closely relate to this but it is something that I can never put into words. You really laid your soul bare and it was powerful.

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  25. Oh wow this is really good. I love the style and it’s so great to see inspiration like this for when I want to write myself.

    Liked by 1 person

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