Through my story scribbles, through the experiences I've encountered with the many different people in my life, I've noticed that a lot of people take, and take, and take. It is such a rarity to find someone who would mutually give and take at the same time; even more so is the rarity of an individual whose humility forces them to ask to take and always gives.
To be honest, the reason I'm writing this is because I can't sleep tonight. It's the beginning of Halloween, 2014. My costumes are of plenty: Scarecrow from Batman Begins, Resident Evil Umbrella Agent from the games, Aperture Science Doctor / Technician, even a full blown Robin Hood costume, A Rogue from Dungeons & Dragons, and one or two others that I know of... But the truth is, I just don't feel complete when I dress in those during Halloween. I think it's more so because I don't have someone else to share in being someone else with. I enjoy little things like that – doing activities with others. Sure, I have to work, and sure, I get to spend time with my residence I take care of... It's not the same as getting to share costumes and going out to parties or enjoying the night with someone who you care for.
That's right, my heart weighs heavily and my face is a shade of shame with a small frown. Yet, it bounces back with a smile and urge of longing due to someone (read on). Whilst in the middle of finding some old videos for a woman I am falling for, I came across untitled ones in my external hard drive. These untitled videos had a purpose not to be titled and it was foolish of me to have clicked them. … The past; all you ever get is dirty when you dig up the past. After counseling, after meditating, after acceptance and forcing myself to accept the actions I had taken and the lessons I had learned, I still couldn't help but swallow a lump of... What was that?
The shame comes from the actions I had made. I told someone they never had to say, “Thank you,” because, at the time they were around, the actions and commitments I had done had never warranted praises – I did them because I wanted to, not because I had to, not because of a chore. Through this shame, and through the final moments, I learned who that person truly was, and who I truly was.
I learned that Sacrifice is a choice I can make while Loss is a choice made for me. I felt that lump of regret and forgiveness swallow down my belly like a seed of evil, rotting away at my mind, and there was only one cure for it. There was something that reminded me that I've become better and stronger than what I once was. Of course, during those videos, I had shaved quite a bit, I had a little more hair, and I had been younger. I looked at myself tonight and realized that I had gained muscle mass and I still have the hair – if, you know, I grow it out a little more.
But out of all this joy and frustration, like being caught by a drop of cold rain, I suddenly thought of -someone- who made it all go away. Someone who is here, now, in my life. Active and talkative. Interested and Interesting. Someone who doesn't begrudge me for me, who makes me feel motivated to try better at the little things in my life and who enjoys the videos I post on my Youtube channel. This someone will be introduced to my fans and readers who follow me on Youtube, sooner or later, as we like to take things "slow and steady, little by little," and we both come from a background that makes our hearts and minds understand one another all the more. Again, the thought of this woman makes the pain of the battery acid vanish. Her smile. Her eyes. That scent. Her voice. Adventures to be had once more.
I read somewhere, "It's not about fixing what's broken. It's about starting over and making something better." I want to with this woman.
I guess Time doesn't heal all wounds. It stitches them up and waits for your memory to erase the wounds for good. I suppose we willingly pour lemon juice – who am I kidding – battery acid on the wound to remind us of the pain. Why, though? I chalk it up to remembering to be ourselves, to remember the lessons we learned, and to, as my grandmother would say, “take another swing at it.”
Thanks for reading.