My truth meant something more meaningful. Something less fragile or tiny. So it could be carefully tucked away under the bed. My truths clothed me every morning. They were struggling all night with lies keeping me up at night. But still the subtle creases only served as tiny inconveniences to the real story of my life. The truths that I carried were not only mine but were a reflection of all the frivolous stories others told to conceal them.
I see through mirage that I could walk through and see what it meant in the real world. And to them it meant nothing but only till it meant everything. I didn’t matter for a long time in this timeline of stories till all that mattered was me. For, when I was held physically by their hands, and I was asked to stay quiet, my complacency was taken as defeat and I was made a victim. One with great patience. My will was tested and I was made a silent hero in my own twisted reality. The dark winds only mocked my naivety. They never admired my valour. They felt sorry for me. And were glad to fool me into thinking I was more than anything in this life.
My bruises that I owned like war scars were just reminders of things I suffered while running away. Trying to escape life and at the same time cheating death? I’ve been a pitiable fool.
I was never raging war. Or earning myself some rightful peace. All that was happening was an orchestrated life of meaningless sacrifices and fleeting happiness. All momentous feelings of euphemism that only last a breath. Till the air runs out and a suffocating silence lingers.
So I hold tight these truths. To do right by me when I die. I want the world to know it hurt me. And this life dismantled me, anew each time.
Every time I blossomed it crushed me under its feet. Each time I tried to own happiness it robbed me of it, and gave me awful sadness in return. When I convinced myself I deserved joy, it made me believe I deserved nothing at all. It cast over me a looming shadow of dark clouds, so that every time I reached out to the world in hopes of finding some solace; it returned to me, mutilated. In despair. Out of any will to survive.
Yet, here I was.
Tarnished for life. Barely carrying my bones. Keeping few memories alive. And yet I stayed. Despite the drowning waves of hatred and selfishness. Being faced with the looming clouds of negativity and moroseness. I survived.
So this is my truth.
The only one that matters.
That I survived despite of you.
I remained against your wishes.
I continue to love as an antagonist to your putrid hatred.
And while you destroy everything you touch.
I’ll salvage heaven in the remains.
Just you see.
veritas numquam perit
Truth never perishes