Have you ever thought why some of us enjoy depression and sorrow so much? “Is it masochism?” you ask. Well, not in those words precisely. Just this instant I realized: it’s cause when we’re feeling down, so depressed and gloomy, we’re being most honest about our feelings to ourselves. It’s the truest and the most real. We are NOT happy and we don’t have to act like it! It’s authentic this way. We can look into the mirror and see a pair of honest eyes; a pair of sad, tearful but god-honest eyes. And then we feel good.
Couldn’t have we been living on a planet or in a world in which you were free to make love to ANYONE you wished to? Where you could hold ANYONE in your arms and share your love with them? Regardless of ANY kind of boundary, limitation and rule? Just to live for the mere sake of giving love? Just giving love… to ANYONE who cared to get it, receive it? We could’ve I guess. We sure could’ve.
The next best thing was the island of course. Let me tell you how it went.
Once upon a time, I lived in an island and life was good. I was alone and yet never felt lonely. I had no possession but the sky and my body. I had no love but for my memories. I had no concern but for… for… well I had no concerns you see.
I was feeling freely my life, for the sake of living it, for the sake of breathing. And I feared not for all was light, was love.
I couldn’t write back then, so words didn’t matter. I couldn’t talk back then, so thoughts were much less. I could only see then, eyes closed or open. I could only feel, hear and smell. And for sure I could taste. I couldn’t fly even back then but knew perfectly how it felt. I couldn’t love even back then but knew perfectly of its nature.
Then one day… on that fateful day, I left the island, that sweet, stupendous island.
For no good reason. The minute I reached land I knew it, I felt it. The island was gone, for good.
Years have passed now, perhaps even decades, centuries… and now I’m shipwrecked where no water exists and I have but few unanswered questioned:
Where am I today? What am I doing? What’s happening around me? Who am I really? What have I become? What have I ever been? What lies have I told so far? To others… to myself. What is this constant pain, aching my heart even when I’m happiest? Am I ever happy, I wonder.
What am I hiding? From whom? Should anything that’s not being said, be said at all? Is it even a secret? What’s all the fear? Who am I even afraid of and for what? Isn’t it just me in the very end? What am I trying to keep? Why? What’s all the planning for? Am I not going to go? Won’t this eventually pass?
What happened to the blue sky? The glorious sun? where did nature suddenly vanish? Why can I not even look at the sky and fly? Why doesn’t it feel like home anywhere anymore?
Does it mean I shall leave this place? Does it mean I should pack my things and go? Where to?
It’s terrible this feeling of isolation, this solitude, this pain. Did you know?
Who ever thought even peace wouldn’t be enough? Who even could’ve imagined serenity would perish and lack EVERYTHING needed? Who thought calm would not suffice?!
So what is to come now? What could I be? What could I possibly want? What will I ever see?
The ocean, I saw… the jungle and the desert too. The sunset of a zesty summer… the quiet of a snowy winter. The kiss of a lover… the loss of another. The high of low… the low of the sky. The life of the dead… the dead who never dreaded. The forming of a blossom… the nipping of a bud. The tears of fear… the screams and laughs of terror.
All I had to see, all I could’ve ever possibly seen.
And yet I NEVER felt alive. There was always a part of me, dead inside; possibly my heart. Possibly a part of my soul. I felt like an angel, trapped, dead, in pain.
Can we please go now? Can this be over, this darkness of permanent oblivion? Can I see sunlight once more? Can I live forever more?
Can someone answer me soon, before I go mad? Before I become bad?
Till then I shall be sad; never EVER glad.
Well perhaps only a tad.