Often there are moments when after numerical raw of seemingly successful days of calm and peace, an odd occurs. Just one moment and a pang of loneliness creep away gnawing at the lower end of the stomach. Yet for only, this numerically insignificant frequency of breakdown that occurs, how big is the loneliness? How lonely is it to be alone?
Why am I trying to sound practical for a topic sounding subjective? (laughs) Well, maybe this is a technique well-read now. Lifting my guard no sooner it’s sensed itself to be let down. Being cautious of every utterance, every moves of the words here and hiding there. That I must play two, one vulnerable self and the other, presumably the stronger one denying to be weak. Convincing every day to be strong, not give in, and only grow. To not feel, only think.
Often, when these trivial moments of anguish occur, in that fleeting moment, a weaker self almost wins and the latter almost surrenders. Almost gives in to the need (not want at that moment) of a place to call home. But of course, again, the good days return, and the sea is calm. By then I don’t want anyone, anything disturbing the safe shore, surprising it only to destroy the truce. By then, I would have survived the wave alone and I’m too selfish to credit the victory to the other.
By then, I’m not alone anymore. Sure the rise does not last, for the same moment of the downturn anyhow comes to pass. But then the graph will continue to wobble up and down, up and down, throwing and thrashing at me every time. But all this time, I’ll learn and learn to keep learning to surf the storm, that when someday I catch the permanent shore, I’ll not be terrified to choose a new boat navigating a new island.