you are more than enough for yourself.

chasing after person after person after person

looking for your rescue in everyone surrounding you

you lose almost all of yourself to the circumstances

when at the last leg

one hand appears out of nowhere

pulls you out back to normalcy

and before you could begin to thank anyone

you realize all of a sudden

it was your own damn self.

 

you are your own saviour.

 

this new city that suddenly feels more ‘at home’ than at ‘home’.

you move house

clutching on to endless inhibitions and doubts

feeling vulnerable, kind of lost, even afraid

but then

this city reels you in

and you blend and blend and blend

until it makes you one of its kind

and every time you buckle

it opens its arms wide

and suddenly,

a stranger door becomes home

a stranger person, family

some ugly shit, one lesson learned

and every moment, magic.

and in the meantime, while nursing the sunburn…

Picking at a skin peel, looking as thin as paper, continuously coming off from the shoulders, the back, even the breasts, you watch the contrasting pink, baring itself beneath all the tan shedding away. It’s an ugly case of sunburn! Even torturous to look at, well..for a while..then you just get used to it. But if you look long enough, you’ll be able to see something else. Very, very clearly.

You’ll see that given enough time, everything heals. Everything. So does that mean everything wields a power of changing to something new and magical, perhaps just normal again? How funny. You go to the sea and come back with this gross sunburn but a beautiful epiphany. This weird thought about the power of time and practicing patience that the sun and the sand put in your head. All the while showing you that there’s beauty in shedding away old things. In changing. In transforming. And though you would initially seek to return to whatever you were or however it had been originally, you’ll eventually know that you can never go back, can never be the same, and the most ironical part would be that you wouldn’t want to. No matter how many parts of yourself you would miss, how many extensions of yourself you would want to relive, how many people and moments you would badly care for, it’ll all be just right there, like a dormant volcano. You cannot love them more in your heart and you know it and that’s just enough. Enough for yourself while you go and make space for new moments, new people, new memories, perhaps even a newer you? A better you.

and yet another sigh.

today the paper came

crumbling under the weight of ‘rape news’

occupying almost a third of all its space

for once i think of unsubscribing

to avoid the daily disappointment

over and over and over

and again

but then wonder

if only it were that easy

if only tuning out could declutter our world as much as our lives.