The Twisted Tale of a Wilted White Rose.

And for the longest of moments, I take a long stare at the ceiling. Dangerous Levels of Introspection by JP Saxe is on repeat, a small black stereo speaker that is incredulously close to my ear carries a warm mellow tune to my voluminous mind. My eyes center at the edge of the ceiling, a part with yellowish concentric circles marking where the rain leaks from the roof. A sudden tire on the corners of my mouth, a smile I have worn since morning. Its 3.30p.m, and the golden tinge of the sun illuminates my silver-threaded shear. The room is filled with bursts of radiance, with floods of scented smoke from the cheap lavender incense sticks burning on the table. I wish I would live in this minute forever.

An unsettling peace rests upon me. Its like, all of a sudden, I have nothing to lose, no weight to carry over my shoulders, no entitlement whatsoever. Its just me versus me. In the silence between the thought of rest, a realization comes upon me. Some sort of epiphany. I look back at the guy who harbored stress like a steady ship waiting to set sail. I look at the guy who held everything back. One who got used to feeling the second fiddle and was contented with the role. Sure he had to be, he was desperate. He was daft to the ways of the world, and naïve to learn them. He saw how used and misused he had gotten, nothing left out of him. He fell for this illusion, that he did not deserve.

The electricity meter beeps, calling me out of my reflective trance. I get off my bed, and walk up toward it.

‘The unit balance is quite substantial. It’ll be enough till I get some more’, I say to myself.

I go back and assume the sunken position on the bed, one where warmth has not left yet. I try to understand how, even in a state of desperation, this version of myself managed to live under the bare minimum, how he survived being treated the way he was. It was sad, it still is. To think of all the minutes sustained under suppression, mistreatment, stigmatization and oppression. Looking back now. To the times I had felt hope, love and peace. These but facades, to gratify the desperate void in my heart. A void that could only be filled but a true sense of who I was. Who am I? What is it that I want? Is this what gives me peace? Is this the life I want to be living for myself? No.

I look back at the connections I have left. The friends, the acquaintances, the people that make up my small circle. I smile at the genuine feeling of content with who I have left now. I look to when I adapted this belief that ‘The Universe, removes those with intent not aligned with yours.’ That the Universe sees those fit to walk in your life, and those not. But, I at this specific moment in time, I’m happy with this system. I’m contented with the subtraction of certain characters in my story, certain values that I now didn’t appreciate. Pathetic and pathogenic, so to speak. I now understand that I was often victim of fear. Not being able to speak my heart and mind when I had to. Ever so often, my virtue of progress, was hindered, somewhat blocked by this lack of self-worth and value. This ‘not-knowing’ what it was I wanted to accomplish as a fulfilled life, was what lost me. I had no idea what my light at the end of the tunnel meant. But I saw it.

That painstaking state of my self-worth developing opened my eyes. The eyes so many took advantage of when they were closed. This realization saved me. I smile in content and purpose. The joy and peace I found within makes me want to laugh. I do, but not so loudly. My walls are thin, I think to myself. This fear that kept me in a stagnant position in my life. I did not want to know what lay beyond the reality I was living. I had no interest in the life beyond this unfortunate life I had appreciated. I looked away from the person I could become, just settled for who everyone wanted. I was tired. An exhaustion I crawled out of.

Where did that get me? Well, I am happy now. I am at peace now. I have taken full control of the ship and steering on forward. Like a rose is cut from its bush, and dried for its scent, this was the scent I was missing my whole life. I have found my fragrance.