Life full of Poison

If I were able to talk to my 5-year-younger self, she would carry the trauma of moving forward.

More than anyone else, she wouldn't be able to bear everything I have endured, both consciously and unconsciously. She will resent herself twice as much as I feel right now. It was all something out of anger, angst, and love. The way I feel right now is bliss of insanity -- something so profound, but neglected in parts.

Let me reimagine how a lot changes.

I met someone who is so good at a lot of things. Good at academics, good at arts, good at writing, good at socializing, and good at making things work out. All of a sudden, a quick turn of events lead her to stop going to university. She pleaded, but I witnessed how things crumbled down. I will not talk about her parents, because they supported her just enough 'til she broke down. I tried to comfort her by staying around, but in pain I see, all she thought was; 

"Good enough to pass the average, but not good enough to be considered." for all the scholarships and academic opportunities, she was not eligible and chosen.

"A bin full of wasted potential." for all her creative juices and skills that even jobs don't pool on.

"Hidden failure disguised as redirection" for all her acknowledgments and community that suddenly vanish into thin air.

For instance, I also met someone who practically took love for someone as a commitment and respect -- as it should be -- but somehow struggles to realize the extent of aggravation and responsibilities within it. She keeps breaking down, thinking that her decisions for both of them are by far the worst for their situation, and just takes accountability for the sake of her sanity and peace.

"Love's too good to be reciprocated and appreciated, and even go beyond," she muttered to me out of those pitiful and tired eyes that stared with depth.

Most of her words go by her sobs and thoughts: "Was love ever supposed to really be consistent? If so, it hurts to consistently be too good, too beyond, and too loving."

Across the road too, I came to talk to someone who eventually died her passion out for curating and exploring things. After the talk, I barely saw her indulge and go out to have fun. She once told me that being alone was her comfort to avoid doing things that irritate other people. It was a shame... She was ashamed.

"I don't want to go out and show my friends how shattered I become from being someone they used to run to at their lowest," escaped her mouth together with the smoke from the cigarette she lit for the first time since I saw her.

I can see how she is trying, but I cannot do anything to help her -- it is never easy to understand someone you haven't put your shoes on. And if you ever feel like the shoe fits, remember that you. 
are.
just.
feeling.
it.

The shoe wasn't yours to start with.

One time at a cafe where I sat down just to chill, I noticed someone who seemed so deep in her thoughts. Well, I went to her and felt the need to be with her. Fortunately, she needed someone to talk to. We managed to talk about what she is going through, but I feel the pain that she holds with every word she lets out. Sadness, pity, and loneliness. She was is still in pain.

She openly told me things, didn't matter if I was a stranger to her, and it hit me -- she was in pain from all the thoughts that were kept within her for ages. She needed justice for the things done to her in the past. She needed a hug for all the things she was is enduring. She needed a listener for the depths of her life. She needed a pat on her back to remind her that she is doing just fine at surviving everything.

I thought deeply to myself, isn't it too much of a need? Doesn't it make her look needy? 

Then again, I look at her. She dressed well for the day. She took her time to look presentable. She managed to stand firm in front of a cashier whose first words were, 

"Good day, ma'am. How are you? What would you like for today?"

How heart-wrenching it is to hear these words, knowing she went through life? It was never a good day for her, she is not doing fine, and just wanted things to go well for the day. She isn't needy, in fact she demanded less in life, and all those are not even worth a penny or dime. She just needed time to heal, people who care, and society that doesn't rule out other's hardships and struggles.

Coming back to my senses after reimagining almost everything I encountered, what more is left for me? 

    What more is out there waiting for me? 

        How many more people will judge other people for their indifferences? 

            How much more of them will commit sin judge for seeing a different sin judgement? 

               Will there be any comfort in this place full of people hugging struggles and recommending ways to enjoy it?

                       Is there more miserable than the fact that we struggle and experience pain in life knowing that the end of life is to feel death nothing?

If I will be able to talk to my 5-year-younger self, I will take the risk of the butterfly effect and tell her what life awaits her. I will tell her how strong I did. I will tell her how life could still be beautiful, but just need right path. I will tell her to try never losing herself  try changing  try being careful  enjoy life while it last. 

She was in pain, in agony, in struggles, and in disappointment; yet she continue to wake up everyday hoping that things will get better. 

She hopes that she gets back to university.

She hopes that love around her will be gentle.

She hopes that her passion for exploring life will come back with ease.

She hopes that the next time she talks to strangers is all about the wonders and beauty of life.

She is me  you  everyone.