Temperature

Some of the funniest people I know are born out of misery. Shit has been going down on them so much since day one that any new shit that happens to them just amuses them. Nothing ceases to shock or surprise them anymore because they’ve been through it all. They are sometimes very lost but are more sure of where they are than anyone else. It is very rarely that they stumble upon something that they find shocking or out of the blue. But what would happen if it were to happen?

To me, broken people are the most profound. They look quite ordinary, actually. They are warm, ruthless, loving, unthinking, passionate, careless, driven, lethargic, hallow and deep all at once.  You could be sitting next to them in a bus, wearing glasses and a mop of hair, 6 feet tall and good looking, driven and bubbly, smart and or clueless, a friend, and even an enemy. It is raw beauty to watch the cogs and wheels that work inside them. Interesting, disgusting and most of all intriguing. What will she do next? What is he doing? Watering plants. Mutilating small things. Running. Concealing. Painting. Shielding. Clawing out. Absolutely glowing in happiness one minute and drowning in sorrow the next. But above of all. Breathing. You’re alive and you continue to fight your way through. Sometimes without the power of will, you lurk in a dark corner until you find the one thing that compels you to move. 

Something that shatters the very core of the little universe that they have immersed in. In a mother’s womb, a comfortable, secluded place, where you’re detached from everything else but from the one cord that connects you to what you know is right and good. A miscarriage. 

Then a cave, where you go to shield yourself from the monsters outside. I wish you could hear how peaceful it is in here… Sight. Absolute darkness. You see nothing because your eyes are shut tight. There’s an uncomfortable chill around you, something that no fire you burn is going to repel. Smell. Something familiar and yet something you have missed for so long that it is unfamiliar territory to you. Sound. The steady drip drip of cave water. The sound of a steady heartbeat reminds you that you are still alive and you need to do something to remain so. And in that place, a sudden tremor. Everything caves in sealing you in and the sunlight out. Now what do you hear? The heartbeat, faster now but still beating. Not reassuring enough but still a movement of hope. Now what do you do? Cling on to that tiny wave of hope. Don’t let it go, you say out loud. 

Then. Time. Give it time, you say. Let the dust settle and your eyes adjust to this new darkness. Listen. Sense the change in temperature. Now adapt, to the temperature of the sealed cave you are in. Pick yourself up. Work. Work to find your way out. Try. Don’t quit. Breathe.