Yes!
You scream. I jolt.
We're here! We're finally here! I was only hoping to tell you in secret here, come, let me tell how brave & resilient you've been this year; you scaled through & no one knew how much you fought without swords and applause! Didn't know you had so much willpower stuffed in you. Come here, silly.
I come. That one was clean, straight and I obeyed. Your arms, outstretched, are like the three thick humming cables linked to a tall A-like post at Power Line. Your warm face grazes mine for a second as my hands slowly voyage around the sloppy hills of your back now and I feel my troubles grumble. Jealous things, they want one too!
Yes, it hasn't really been your best year just yet, maybe you got a few rejection mails like me! Or you lost a close folk to that inevitable eternal sleep! Or illness has made its bed just inches away from yours like it did to mine! Or books still sleep in a carton next to your bed because you're always procrastinating their reading! Or you wiped a stray tear two weeks ago when your dad tells how much he tries! Or you cried so much for love till your throats burned & your eyes saw emptiness, vast deserts! Or your courses’ scores still look you in the eyes with their very young numbers hovering like flies above them! Or …
I wince. You remember everything. The structures. Of ambianced pain. Brought without veils. Oh! Your photography is clean.
See. You continue. Whatever thing this year did squeeze into your sticky palms while it scurries away now just as hurriedly as it came, what matters is that you lived it all through; you learnt & you grew!
I grew?
Sanity did not arrive on a plate of scented ease, I know. In fact, your heart still tugs impatiently at that exact fleeting moment of frail satisfaction that felt like a sharp luxury, a true desire that stayed alive only for a minute, of ached dreams but you're still hanging in there when it slipped (or when it chose to leave), not overly losing your mind or sulking for being too forward & allowing it to cheaply slip by, unharvested. unripened. For this, you did well.
So, look here.
I look there. A fly’s wings give the illusion of a thousand flaps. Mesmerizing!
It's okay to taste your tears, to break under the heavy yoke of life placed on your backs like a sick donkey saddled with excessive stubble does. Just learn to rise again with convincing strength within… Help me catch that fly, it's getting away. …whenever you crouch in fright away from your scary shadow of failure in the flesh & find a genuine human to lend an arm… See, it's going, going, going, like she did, like they did. …through the dark aisles as you trace these beckoning glimmers ahead to perfection together. 2025 & its unborn sisters yearn for your triumph!
Urgh, it's gone.
Forever.
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This is a stunning piece. Your way with words is just impeccable. I loved how surreal it felt and yet still grounded. And I think almost everyone with a year like yours can relate. We lived. And sometimes, that's all that matters.
Well done!