Bundled up with my zillion and one carry-on bags in a tuna box seat, I look out the window just as a roaring engine signals the end of summer. It's over ..and now something new is about to begin. I'm still unsure whether its a beginning I'm anxiously awaiting, or one I'm dreading as soon as we touch down.
Summers are strange to describe.. we wait for it to come, we plan, we dream.. we hope.. we reach climaxes of excitement and emotion and everything seems so much richer, so much more real, but the truth is, as soon as it approaches the end, we realize our adventures end with it. Our expectations die out and everything disappears like it was never there..
It's as if the feverish heat makes everything buzz as we sink ourselves in the depth of all it's delicious warmth. We become more daring, somehow more determined to live; more determined to make the most of the time we get..the freedom we have. Parties get wilder, clothes get brighter, the air seems fresher and everything is bursting out on full swing and even romances get so much more intense.
Every summer..this is how it ends. We're either coming or going and I spend the last hours wondering how different it all could have been and how different it all might be soon enough.
So as I sit here, I look back at all the decisions I've made, and it's surprising how differently we would have done things if life had given us that moment to think, right? But life's not like that. We don't get to plan every little thing and we don't get to plan how we react.
I'm not sure what we regret most in life; the things we did or the things we should have but didn't.
And it's always those we love that we hurt the most. I've seen it happen and watched it play out time and time again. Sometimes I think it's because we expect them to understand and forgive us.. or maybe we think they'll love us anyway. Maybe we hurt them the most because we're scared.
I've been thinking a lot. Sometimes now I think too much. I'm a coward. And I guess being able to say it out loud makes me less of one. I don't know. Why am I a coward? Well.. it's because I'm afraid to believe in myself. I'm afraid to believe I'm needed. I'm afraid to believe that there really are people who want to protect me. That there are people who do want me happy and want to be close. So what do I do? I run. The first sight of feeling like someone shows they care, I get confused, I panic and try to keep them as far out as arm's reach as I possibly can.
Because all I think is, no, you don't know me well, you don't want to be close, and if I let you, when you go, it's going to hurt. So I leave first.. or make them want to be gone. My stupid theory used to be: if they decide they don't want to be around me right before I go, they wont hate me for it.. or it wont hurt as much..?? And it's like that with everyone. My friends..sometimes even my family.
So then why do I hang on to the wrong people?! Why do I trust the ones who DON'T warn me?!
Why oh why can't I pull down that thick defensive wall and stop being afraid to get hurt? Because in truth, I've realized, that fretting about getting hurt and pulling away is actually hurting more then what it is I'm running away from!
I'm proud of myself about a couple of things though..
I'm never afraid to admit my mistakes. There's someone in my life who I've lost because of cowardice..and also because of bad judgement. I forgot that some people's faith in me is not as solid as I may believe. That they may not hang on to the truth they know about who I am and what's in my heart, but believe that the circumstances I've brought upon them may be ones I've brought onto them with the intention of hurt.
This story has been needling at me ever since it happened. All summer, I've been wondering..what if? What if I had been braver? What if I had stopped the person slowly corrupting my life and spoke out the truth? What if that one time I should have, I dropped everything and ran? Ran to the right person.
Well.. I never did. I never did speak up, nor did I run to the right person. But I sure as hell ran away. Eventually. From all of it.
I must have started walking in the right direction a million times, but my feet always felt heavy. My heart told me one thing but my brain and everyone else told me another. I was always afraid of what I was walking to. Always afraid that what's on the end of that road is going to be more than I could handle.
And I still am. I am afraid. But I'm not afraid to say so. Because how much more of life do we really have left anyway? It's all just passing us by. And so what if I'm afraid? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there's nothing to be afraid of. Maybe what I'm afraid of is me.
So many people have always told me that the power in any situation lies with the one who cares the less. Well I don't want the power anymore. I don't want to be the coward anymore. I want to be the one who grabs life by the tail and rides along. I want to have the courage to trust, but not the naivety to trust the wrong people.
All this time, I've been telling myself it's something I didn't miss; something that didn't matter. And I've been trying so hard to convince myself of that, that I've said it to those who wonder along with me.
But now summer's ended and so have all the lies. I've unravelled the truth about all those around me, and decided to start out fresh and new. Most important of all, I've unravelled myself and I've lain myself bare. Bare enough to get hurt. Bare enough to give in.
So maybe you're thinking, that this time, like so many other's I've chosen to pour out my torment in writing, I'd be able to walk away from it and seal my emotions in this blog. But I cant. Because everyday I wait. Everyday I wait for the chance to make everything right again. And this time I'm waiting rather than moving because I have no right other than to stay right where I am.. waiting.
Oh.. and now the rain is tapping on my window.. the first sign of autumn. A new season has begun.
0 comments:
Post a Comment