| 水影 |
2013-08-28 16:27 |
Cocoon- Born to fly
Cocoon- Born to fly
By Waters
2013-8-28
Why I always am the one so tender? Why I always am the one to be first hurt? In love, in friendship, in relations? The always incessant sensitivity strips down my armor, and in naked skin, I stride around to be with you, to be a human.
Fragile, I know you don’t get the fragile thing of me. “Come on, buddy. Be a man.” Your inquiring eye-sights impatiently betrayed. Care, where is your care? I locked my searching in your eyes but find none.
Life can be dark or bright, green or brown. Why all I need is white? White smile, white intention, white mind. Is it because I can make no sunshine myself, and so have to grab all the whiteness to decorate in my heart a sunny day?
Then what? If impossible to live solely in light, the next best thing is all dark. “How could you be so radical? All or none? Life is not going that way. ” You murmured. Yes, I heard you. I did and still do. I guess another thing you can never handle graciously in me is perfectionism.
How would you say when at least 9 in 10 persons accused of your life-style, something you never had a choice about? How would you do when since your first self-consciousness you know you are not going to be loved for who you are no matter how hard you try or whatever you achieve?
Answer me. Let me hear you now and forever. Just as freely as your once prejudicious comments flowed out of your mouth. So why be with you anyway, any more? Humans? What’s the point? I feel even safer in my solitude, in my darkness, in my cocoon.
I dive deep in hellish self-struggle. To be me, real me, expected me, unexpected me. Mad, total madness, right? My friends? Every moment, every second, I live in conflict versions of so called me. No truefullness, no calmness, no tranquility of whatever in life.
Time is slow in expectation but short in retrospect. I survived a decade in cocoon. Then one day, I just decided to eat my own fear, my own bandages, and break through. No fancier blessings follow straight, I tell you friends, not as depicted so easily as in a 2-hour movie.
Sometimes it becomes even more hurtful to step out of the usual comfort zone as it used to be. Whimsical emotions roll-coaster constantly around bumps and high-lands on the road. I am still trying not to fall down in the pitfalls, and succeed some but definitely not all.
Life is the road we lead, and the road is the walk we make stepwise under our feet. Tumble down, stray off and occasionally retreat. They are just parts of the walk, but not the ends of walking.
More than ever before, I am grateful to be here, to be now, and to be with you guys. Real friends, not many, with whom to witness my trajectory of life, to see my ugly crying days, to be there laughing heartedly for my hard-earned happiness and to share the true self being me.
I am weak sometimes, fragile sometimes, panic sometimes and freak other times. I still try to be as perfect as I could be in this life. The difference is that I open up now to let someone in to observe my process of fashioning my life in mold, not till the end-product finished.
I don’t know what this is called. Maybe maturation, wild guess. For me, it is the reconnection of the meat and bones of this corporeal embodiment with the ethereal mentality.
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