Introspection
I met my younger self. I felt the last decade brush over me, casting it behind like old, wrinkled skin. I sat next to it. I wish I had sat across from her but something in the energy made me want to sit next to her. I had noticed that the older me had started ignoring these thoughts. These intrusive thoughts that were forcing me to sit with myself. My grief. My regrets. My melancholic, bittersweet hue of life. Maybe I was sensing myself being myself again. My mannerisms. My personality, so full of life, so much inquisitiveness about the world, blind faith in hope, reckless youth, and the stamina to start something dexterous had shaken me to my core.
I wish I hadn't endured all the bad things that had happened. As if I could pretend my way through life. Not having to experience death and loss and grief. Never realising it never really works out. That's the way life always plays out. Joy and sadness, loss and gain will always stay together.
I may want to start over, try to explore this world on my terms, but still, we can never have it all. Life ultimately remains unfair. And most of all, we must learn to accept it in all its crooked ways.
So, I sat next to myself. The anxiety was palpable. So was being unsure. But the confidence still beamed. It felt like my younger self had the world figured out. She knew what she liked, what she couldn't stand. But she also thought her view of the world made sense. And that hard work has a reward. And she still had some faith in friends, acquaintances, emotional bonding, and living off other peoples' energies and availabilities. She still had blind faith in the family she grew up with. She still hadn't come face to face with her demons, though I saw them lurking around the corners of her smiles and in the black of her eyes. But she still managed to smile. She still cared and wanted to be liked. And there was still this palpable notion in her body language like she wasn't good enough and that she had to weigh each word and still earn some respect and acceptance.
I sat there. Mostly quiet. Mostly listening to her view of the world. Her untarnished soul, that unfaltering ego, and that wholesome heart engaged me. I was left awestruck but also at the brink of crying. Wailing even. But I stopped myself mid track when I noticed her looking at me like I was insane. I had to reassure her I was still holding onto the flimsy thread of sanity that was keeping me afloat.
Here I was battling within myself as to how much I disclose. Do I tell her she'll lose a lot of her friends, she'll lose respect for some of her family, she won't speak to a lot of people she knows now, she'll come to realise that parents and teachers are after all humans too, and that she'll get her heart broken by what she thought should be best for her?
By the version of life and choices she had created in her mind? I wished to tell her all this, but I also wanted her to stay in the whimsy of the unknown a little longer. I wanted her to still dream and have hope. So I stayed quiet. I told her life is like a box of chocolates. Just like Forrest Gump's mother did. You never know which one you're going to get.
We said goodbye. She left before me. And I saw her from the window, her figure almost disappearing in the distance.
I let out a sigh. I wish she gets whatever she seeks, and may whatever find her, finds her well, in peace and in kindness. Farewell.