I hold onto broken pieces of my soul, none of which completely belongs to me.
Spent my past life in a box painted with all the colors I had ever known in existence. And the two I adored so much, I named them hope and innocence.
In my little haven, there stood a mirror that showed me an image of the most beautiful girl. Never did I knew jealousy then, my mind was made of dreams only and in all of them, I was someone like her.
the voices from the heaven said – never let it break. the mirror that will protect you from the cruel and your fate. I sat there silently for how long I never know, drawing my fantasies inside the box, inside its safety, with the only colors I had ever known.
But just as my fingertips were getting used to the rhythm of my new something, the colors began to dry and eventually I was met with my first encounter of the empty and the nothing. I asked the heavens their next move but the silence only grew heavier, lights flickered on and I saw the box shrinking, swallowing me from within. I refused to believe, I refused to die, shadows creeping behind somewhere staring at me teased’ it all was a lie’.
I started to run but every breath felt like I was falling down the skies, and everywhere I ran to, all I saw was my fantasies falling apart in front of my eyes. Before long, I felt something warm speeding down my cheeks, I never realized until then that I was a human too, and crying would never make me weak.
‘Why would the heavens keep something so beautiful from me?’ I wondered as I let the waters flow. And with every teardrop that embraced the ground, I heard from somewhere behind me, a faint crackling sound.
The mirror was breaking down with me and I held its pieces carefully in my palms, not afraid anymore to bleed. Right then I saw a door appearing behind the broken glass, painted with one of the two colors that I had adored so much (hope), and I wondered again, why was innocence no longer with her?
I said a final goodbye to my old box and wrapped up the glass pieces as I named them ‘memories’, for each one of them reflected back to a fantasy I had drawn on the walls of my safe haven. And when I walked through the entrance, all I see is a new world painted with a color that to me doesn’t make any sense. But that’s all I have now I guess, so I give it a name anyway –
I think I will call it ‘life’.
Mind you, it wasn’t really as pretty as the colors I was used to, but it had shades of ‘hope’ whenever I needed them, and whenever I missed it, I found a glimpse of ‘innocence’ too.
-Poorwa
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