Return + Backtracking

I.

 

At exactly this moment, I just want to return to the womb. The closest thing I can do, simply because I can never go back, is to let myself go adrift in the water. Be it a pool, a lake, a river, or the ocean, it doesn't matter. I just want to immerse myself in the loving water.

 

I want to be light because I carry too much weight in me. Isn't it amazing, how water---with its molecule makeup and all--- can carry and caress anything that can fall and break? Collectively, these molecules can support all that can be buoyant. So, my back in the water and my face to the sky, I shall let my arms and legs rest without flailing. I will then look at the sky and wish I could remain this way for the longest time.

 

There is something sad and euphoric about it that's difficult to explain. I realized this one time at the beach. The horizon was pink, purple, with a tinge of orange and the sea was turning a bluish gray. My littleness was heightened by the awareness by the true scale of things.  It made me want to cry because I was terrified. Terrified of awe if there is such a thing.

 

The awareness of frailty and power is something the human mind and heart cannot easily reconcile. But that's the beauty of it.

 

II.

 

Dear Me,

 

Please pardon me for my moments of ineptitude. I will be better because I owe you that much.

 

Love,

Me

 

III.

 

(Things You Would Never Know: Part of a Series)

 

Long before you came along, I was already like this. I was afraid to admit it back then because of my fear of you, so I'm saying it now. I don't mirror you nor am I your shadow. What you are to me is a rude awakening, and honestly, many times I wished to go back to sleep. But I have to accept your gift (if it is a gift) graciously.

 

I do not know where your vanity is from. I do not know what keeps you vain. Why must you look at the eyes of your lover just so you can see yourself?

 

IV.

 

This is my cue. I walk away.

 

(September 28, 2010)