I wake up some mornings to find pieces of myself - I'm unsure of exactly which portion of "self" I am referring to: soul, spirit, heart, mind, personality, etc. - missing. Maybe I've just misplaced it, but certainly, like everyone else on this planet, I have been jaded by life. Sometimes it's a passion or dream that slowly fades and eventually disappears altogether by the gradual process of erosion; parts of me, my hope, my openness, my trust, are gently swept away, piece by individually insignificant piece. Perhaps they find a new place "down-river," or end up in the same place as lost weight.
Something happens that shatters my confidence, or worse, pride sneaks its way into my attitude, suffocating the small amount of mercy and patience struggling to survive there. A plan I made the mistake of hoping in falls through and I temporarily lose my ability to dream in the way that, until recently, has always come so naturally for me. I must constantly remind myself of What exactly it is that I am living for, while an unsettling sentence is whispered in my ear over and over again: You are not the bright young woman you had imagined yourself to be, but rather just a silly little girl.
These parts are chipped away in chunks - lopped off like the small hand of an African boy that hasn't even lived long enough to do wrong (I realize that I am referencing yet another morbid scene brought to us by Hollywood [Blood Diamond], but this one haunts me as well. Something in my heart tells me that it is an unfortunately euphemistic portrayal of a much more gruesome reality than any of us "misguided insects*" care to entertain the thought of).
So here I find myself in a life full of comfort. I have everything I need, practically every (material) thing I want, and much more. So why, at 19, do I have moments in which I feel so thin and weary, at least in spirit? Moments in which I wonder what, if anything, could possibly be left of "me" in five more years of life? Ten? Twenty? Fifty? Barring infection, the boy and I will most likely survive our injuries, but his body and my heart will never be quite the same as they once were - for just as some wounds can be healed, some losses are unsalvageable.
*This comes from January 1979, a mewithoutYou song
2 comments:
"...parts of me, my hope, my openness, my trust, are gently swept away, piece by individually insignificant piece. Perhaps they find a new place "down-river," or end up in the same place as lost weight."
this notion is an interesting one... this "[finding] a new place" ... it makes me think of the law of conservation of energy. this comment might not make sense outside of my brain.
I hadn't thought of it in that respect, but perhaps that is because the laws of thermodynamics are so deeply ingrained in my mind.
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