You asked me where have I gone. I answered ”here”. But my voice was silent. I was mute, incapable to scream loudly where I am. But I’m here. You don’t know this because you’re blind. You cannot see me through your majestic shades and I fear there is nothing to be done anymore. The volume of my voice cannot increase anymore. My heart beats are too loud. But nobody can hear them. Neither you. Your faces are masked. You wear a mask of ego. The neighbour wears a mask of money. I wear a mask of pain. My friend wears a mask of nothingness. So that’s it. We are all wearing masks, covering our inner selves, imploring for someone to break them without giving our permission. Don’t you think that’s too much to ask for from another human being? Who is he to shave away my pain? Who am I to fight his ego?
We do not bother ourselves. We try nothing and we accomplish nothing. We starve ourselves and then we’re fed so we don’t die. Isn’t it ironic? We starve ourselves from truth and we’re fed with big fat lies. In the morning we complain about our situation and at night we hope for the best tomorrows. But we do nothing. We breath in polluted air and exhale some more garbage to the world. We become an intoxication for our own kind. We are drugged by other human beings; knowing that they can either be our paradise or our inferno. I suppose the next rhetoric question I should be asking is whether that’s a good or a bad thing, but I am not. I am sure you are already asking yourself that or something similar. Aren’t you?
If you are not, maybe you should worry. Or you must definitely worry.
My soul is made of glass. The outline is thick and forms a perfect circle. It resembles to a ball of fire. Sometimes steel. Mostly though it’s glass. It can break easily but the fire still exists, containing it, keeping it intact. My mask is made of pain. Some may say it resembles to my soul. Others claim there is no pain inside me, just a failure that I’m trying hard to bring upon myself. I don’t know which theory applies in my case but I wish none are true.
My heart’s state is variable. There is mostly pain; the kind of pain that consumes me, burns my insides and somehow feeds me hope. My soul, I’ve seen, is more than glass and fire, or steel. My soul is blue, green and red. My soul is a mixture of clouds and oceans, soaked summer grass and extracts from extraterrestrial lands. My soul is made of what I am fed and I dare saying, my food is love and hate.
There it comes the great question: who to blame? Who to blame for the disappointment and the controversy of life? The options are two: blame yourself or blame the world. I guess we have the need to put the blame on someone just because the outcome wasn’t what we expected. Some of us, just blame ourselves, others blame others. It’s a matter of ethics, beliefs and character. It is right to confess our mistakes and take the responsibility of them. However, there are times the true blamer is somebody else, not ourselves. The human ego, at a 75% of the situations blame someone else. In reality, the percentage should be 50-50. Nobody’s perfect. Mistakes are made from both parts. The thing is, if our whole life we search for someone to blame, even if that someone is ourself, we won’t find peace. There comes a time we should let go of all the questions torturing our heart and mind. I’ve been asked today, as I was talking to an old woman about someone, why my eyes get so lost when I talk about him. I didn’t have time to answer because she did instead. She said; he was your first love. Again, I didn’t answer. She continued by saying; you’ll never forget him, I know, but you have to get over it and stop blaming yourself. I had tears in my eyes as she was talking and still I didn’t answer. The conversation ended with her saying; it’s not only your fault. Then, she left the room. She was a complete stranger that I was talking to for the first time. Though she realized everything from just hearing me talk about him, saying a stupid incident. I now get it what happens to me.
The only thing that keeps me back then, is the blame. In fact, I really do blame myself for everything that happened. I blame myself for not being enough. The same thing happened today. Someone reminded me of that. Of not being enough. In a very harsh way. It is the only thing I can’t overcome. That moment I turned my back to that person and left, not because I didn’t wanna see him or I cause I felt insulted. I didn’t. It just flickered in my mind a phrase. “You’re not enough. You won’t be.” Deeply in my heart I know I don’t have all the blame but I cannot erase the feeling either. I still blame myself.