I had no other options.
It was a day filled with grey skies and gusts of wind that tasted salty when you opened your mouth to inhale the fresh air. I had gone outside as I had felt imprisoned within my own mind and hoped to find refuge in seeing the faces of others on the streets, inventing stories about their lives and looking for reasons behind their smiles or troubled faces.
It made me feel at ease, to see I wasn’t the only one carrying around a heart and mind to look after. It also made me feel less alone. Sitting inside an empty house quickly makes you forget about reality as it is. You start making up your own stories that take place in your own world. Before you know it, there’s nothing but your own vague presence keeping your hurt company. It’s this strange thing about human beings – we like to make ourselves feel miserable sometimes. There’s a certain sweetness to filling your days listening to songs that remind you of the love you lost whilst ploughing through the entire Kleenex box. Perhaps it’s the predictability of how the pain feels that comforts us. The heartache rising up our throats as we try to speak to someone on the phone. There’s no need for us to wonder, how are we supposed to feel right now? How are we supposed to act? It all comes naturally, sometimes too easily.
It is much harder to be happy. But I had no other options. My feet were much more determined before my heart even was. Something took over my body, before I had told it where to go. I believe it was my soul – fighting against walls of blood vessels and flesh that tried to stop it from shining through. It felt like an invisible mother took me by the hand and lead me forward, a mother that was born out of the depths of my despair. I took care of myself somehow, before knowing I had the strengths to do so. It was that small fire fanned by hope that began to break through. Because if there was one thing I believed in, it was in hopefulness.
The fire burned. Ardent flames that were born out of roots of love that had always lived inside of me, sparked by passion. They began to grow as my legs brought me deeper and deeper into the city.
How I missed my lover and the normality of our bodies resting so closely to each other in bed. I had been staring at my phone for hours, typing and dialing and erasing and ending phone calls. I thought I had no other options but slowly dying over my lost love, until I decided to be happy and that’s exactly what I was going to be. Life had slipped through my fingers for weeks, as I had felt like nothing would ever be the same. Yet something stirred me today and whispered in my ear that I was finally free and this pain I had to go through would only result in better things once it was washed away with tears and new possibilities.
I realized that instead of missing him, I missed the love I never had.
As long as I would yearn for his arms and company, despite the fact he would bruise my heart and hurt my integrity, I would only be lying to myself. I guess I just didn’t want to be alone. Or perhaps I merely thought I deserved nothing more but a man who built up himself by tearing me down. I had been wrong all along. I had been wrong until this very moment. The one I was really missing was me.
My feet were running now and the strong wind made love to the tiny drops of sweat on my forehead. Fall was coming and trees were holding on to their leaves to say their final goodbyes. The crests were lurking at the flocks of birds leaving them behind. I wish I could tell them they would be back next spring. Or maybe they knew and they understood.
I entered the art academy even before I knew that this was my destination. I felt blessed with eyes and legs so intelligent. I had always dreamed of being a painter, but had wasted my time on a low self-esteem and self-pity.
Today, I had no other options left. I needed to feel alive. I needed to wake up so my dreams could stop hiding in my sleep. I would study, I would paint, I would soar. I would be happy, I would be free, I would be who I wanted to be, no longer who he wanted me to be, or anyone else for that matter.
I had no other options. Because this is the final choice I made. To be happy. To move on. To be free.
Little scribble of inspirational fiction for my lovely readers.