Tomorrow will be a new day
In a dark, almost-hidden corner of the room, she smiles. It is not a happy gesture. That one simple unconscious moment goes by unnoticed...untouched...untainted. No one gives it a second thought. In fact, few give it any thought at all. Even she, herself, is unable to fathom the depth of expression and vulnerability that was evident in those few seconds, had anyone cared enough to notice. She sees a young toddler run by, giggling, and the purity of the child's innocence and joy make her smile again. Still, she doesn't realise, it is an expression fraught with her despair...her misery, her anguish...she thinks she has buried it all, she thinks it can not surface, she believes she has left it in some corner of her soul so many layers deep that it can not be touched anymore. In her simplicity, she has no idea that her pain is evident in her every move...her fear, subtle but omnipresent, in her every gesture...
Sometimes, she wonders how life might have been had it been any different. Other times, she can not imagine things any differently no matter how much she wants to. Or needs to.
No one pays any attention as she quietly gets up, makes her way to the door, and gently treads outside barefoot. The midnight hour casts its eerie moon-lit shadows on the grass, but to her it is so much more comforting than the presence of those people she has left inside. The dark hues of the night seem tender and unthreatening...the silhouettes soft and warm, despite the chilly breeze surrounding the house... the quietness of the pitch-black night a stark and welcome constrast from the world as she knows it.
For a while she just walks in circles, aware only of the frightened beating of her heart and then of the cool, dewy grass she is treading upon. Wet and fresh. Deliciously fresh. She just walks and walks on, one foot after the other, unknowest of what it is that she is searching for. She doesn't know. She doesn't want know.
Hours, or maybe minutes, later, for she has no idea how long she's been out there...she stops. The incessant walking has left her slightly breathless, the cold wind has numbed her cheeks and hands.
Breathing heavily she starts spinning. Slowly first, with her eyes wide open, staring at the world as it begins to go round, and then fast...faster and faster...with arms spread out wide and the cold piercing through her soul, chilly and brutal until it freezes her spirit. Yet she doesn't stop. She closes her eyes, not just against the trees and walls surrounding her, but against the whole world. She feels time stand still. Yet she doesn't stop. A sudden bout of nausea hits her and she realises for a second that she might throw up. Yet she doesn't stop. Faster and faster she spins. Faster and faster...until she can hear nothing, not even her own ragged breath... until she can think of nothing, focus on absolutely nothing... until she can see nothing, not even the void behind her closed lids... until she can feel nothing except God's presence...
She crashes to the ground, too dizzy to comprehend anything for a long time. The beads of sweat mingle with the bittersweet tears coursing down her numb cheeks, and she can not make out the difference between the two. She lies there until her breathing returns to normal, and her heart starts beating at its normal pace once again. She does not understand what came over her just minutes ago. Somehow she realises that she is not meant to understand. Not now. Not yet.
Her spirit cleansed and her heart reborn, she quietly and calmly makes her way back... to the dark, almost-hidden corner of the room. No one notices her return.
A strange aura of serenity descends upon her. It is an odd, unknown feeling. Unexplored territory. But she senses that it was meant to be. For the first time in her life, she does not feel threatened. Rather, she knows she is at peace. With herself. With her world. The thought makes her smile...
But it is a happy gesture.
Sometimes, she wonders how life might have been had it been any different. Other times, she can not imagine things any differently no matter how much she wants to. Or needs to.
No one pays any attention as she quietly gets up, makes her way to the door, and gently treads outside barefoot. The midnight hour casts its eerie moon-lit shadows on the grass, but to her it is so much more comforting than the presence of those people she has left inside. The dark hues of the night seem tender and unthreatening...the silhouettes soft and warm, despite the chilly breeze surrounding the house... the quietness of the pitch-black night a stark and welcome constrast from the world as she knows it.
For a while she just walks in circles, aware only of the frightened beating of her heart and then of the cool, dewy grass she is treading upon. Wet and fresh. Deliciously fresh. She just walks and walks on, one foot after the other, unknowest of what it is that she is searching for. She doesn't know. She doesn't want know.
Hours, or maybe minutes, later, for she has no idea how long she's been out there...she stops. The incessant walking has left her slightly breathless, the cold wind has numbed her cheeks and hands.
Breathing heavily she starts spinning. Slowly first, with her eyes wide open, staring at the world as it begins to go round, and then fast...faster and faster...with arms spread out wide and the cold piercing through her soul, chilly and brutal until it freezes her spirit. Yet she doesn't stop. She closes her eyes, not just against the trees and walls surrounding her, but against the whole world. She feels time stand still. Yet she doesn't stop. A sudden bout of nausea hits her and she realises for a second that she might throw up. Yet she doesn't stop. Faster and faster she spins. Faster and faster...until she can hear nothing, not even her own ragged breath... until she can think of nothing, focus on absolutely nothing... until she can see nothing, not even the void behind her closed lids... until she can feel nothing except God's presence...
She crashes to the ground, too dizzy to comprehend anything for a long time. The beads of sweat mingle with the bittersweet tears coursing down her numb cheeks, and she can not make out the difference between the two. She lies there until her breathing returns to normal, and her heart starts beating at its normal pace once again. She does not understand what came over her just minutes ago. Somehow she realises that she is not meant to understand. Not now. Not yet.
Her spirit cleansed and her heart reborn, she quietly and calmly makes her way back... to the dark, almost-hidden corner of the room. No one notices her return.
A strange aura of serenity descends upon her. It is an odd, unknown feeling. Unexplored territory. But she senses that it was meant to be. For the first time in her life, she does not feel threatened. Rather, she knows she is at peace. With herself. With her world. The thought makes her smile...
But it is a happy gesture.
posted by deranged_lunatic at 1:49 AM
3 Comments:
once again i envy your creativity and your writing style. and of all the things i've ever read written by you, this is so far my favourite, not that my opinion counts, but still.and also thankyou for adding some sort of variety to your blog, it makes it more awesome.good job.
I like... this is one of those posts to which every person is able to relate differently... i for onr got things from it that you perhaps would not even have been thinking while writing...ok im freaking you out.hehe... anyway, BRAVO! write a sequel or a prequel or both soon! :)
Its one of those posts that go down deeep...:)
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