hope – Dorky Perky Writes

The story does not end here.

Buckle up,

Let the ride blow your mind.

When I left my room, it reeked of forgotten dreams and a gluey sticky air of grief. Well, it was really just damp tissue paper, stale bread and the perfume I sprayed a little too much in hopes that it covers up the must and gives me a chance to feel a little more important, a little less like desperation and regretful fateful nights. My Bible is left open on my bed. The send-off did not go well, and now as I close the door and turn away from the open book of life, it feels almost like I have just turned my back away from the Giver of it too.

My mother always tells me to take small spoonfuls of food and eat slowly because rushing is only going to disturb my digestion, I think what she means is that I should not bite on more than I can chew. Another thing she calls me out on is the disturbing stubbornness which I have still not worked on changing, so see, my mouth is full, my tummy hurts and really, I am choking.

I went out today to go and draw some inspirational themes for the memorial of all the women I have ever been, or to hopefully find them somewhere along the way instead. Tell them hi and goodbye and it’s been a while, because I do not know when they packed their bags and left, but only a faint presence of them remains and I was never ready. I have been learning how to overcome loss and let go, but not a clue on when it’s versions of myself I am grieving.

I am 20 now, but I feel much more like the girl I was at 10, and even more clueless.

So, to myself,

Undo the pattern of fear-induced responses and the need to shrink yourself to fit into spaces which you should have never set foot in in the first place.

The only light you should switch off in the morning is that in your room, and not in your eyes. What purpose does it serve to shine and act out everything you are meant to be at night when the door is shut if you are going to bend your head when you walk out in the morning?

Unlearn the process of clinging on to what is no longer in alignment with you, was never in direction with your life and the habit of trying to turn temporary connections into forever relations. You are only subjecting yourself to an infinity of harmful attachments.

The kind of fire you should put out is one that destroys, not the burn of your fiery passion for life and love and beautiful things. Also, remember to stop burning your own house.

You are beautiful, and I have no idea where you got the notion that you were anything else but that. You were moulded using divine clay and loving hands, intentionally and purposefully. Do not shy away from that.

Teach yourself how to let love in without the fear that it will ultimately breed hurt and all things that make you want to run away instead. Free yourself from the anxieties of everything the world has told you. Guard your heart, but open it up to the chance of experiencing beauty because, you know how truly beloved you are, only it terrifies you much more than it fills you with warmth.

Learn to love people without giving up pieces of yourself or bending yourself to the point of your spine breaking. Love requires sacrifice, but it is not sacrifice.

Ice cream should be the one thing you like cold, not your heart. Your tenderness and your ability to feel is a gift and I need you to see it as such. Just master the art of managing all that chaos.

You still are very brilliant and very capable, and yes, sometimes your mind can lie to you. Practise telling yourself the truth more so that you can distinguish between the voice of fear and the voice of truth. So, go on, do it. Your world is waiting. Ready when you are.

You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Keep the faith. Talk to God, keep Him close. You know well enough that He listens.

I hope the room smells much better when I return. Open the windows, draw out the curtains, do some cleaning, spray some mist, play some music, stay away from bread for a while. You’ll be okay.

.Mpho

To whoever, for whenever.

I hope you are well.

Restart.

I hope you took a breath today.

I walked into your room at 3pm two days ago and you were still in bed, curled up, eyes bloodshot. You dared to smile at me, I looked at you and your lips quivered. This year has presented quite an unexpected turnout.

Friend, I know life has been moving fast, and not in a good way. You seem to be a little more tired than usual lately, a lot more really. Even trying to perform and play pretend is something you are not acing much truly, good thing I guess. You do not play your early morning rock music which I used to never understand, or dance to your Amapiano beats. You do not go out for ice cream anymore, just for helpless past-midnight walks to any place far from all of it. No place IS far from any of it.

I am sorry, friend. I really am, my heart goes out to you. I am sorry that instead of admiring the beauty of the starry sky or gasping in joy as the night breeze hits your skin, you whisper “Hello, darkness, my old friend“. You told me last Tuesday that you wish the night monsters could find you roaming or something like that, but we are not five anymore and koko does not exist.

Lately, nothing seems to be going right for you and it has taken its toll. You are overwhelmed because you know that time does not stop to let you nurse your wounds and regather yourself. The rest of the world keeps moving as yours falls apart. You are tired. You want it all to end, or to reset. You want to go back to 2016, when everything was not moving as tumultuously, when the world was not as chaotic and when everyone was still alive.

You have cried more than you have laughed recently, and even your laugh does not echo anymore. It is not wholesome and boisterous, it does not force me to tell you not to disturb people at 2 in the morning and it does not bring you to tears or knock the breath out of you. It comes out tense and ends with a sigh. Your eyes do not crinkle when you smile, they just glimmer with the kind of sadness so grave it makes my heart physically ache.

Your nails have been bitten to their skin, and your lips too. You cried about toothache because being gritted is the new normal stance for your teeth. You pop Grandpa very frequently now, yet the headache never goes away. I never have seen you so anxious, so scared, so worried.

It has been truly heartbreaking to see you like this and friend, if I could make it all go away…

I want to let you know though that you are not alone. Just as you have continuously told me that we are in this together, I am reminding you of the same.

In a very recent unfortunate event, someone unlikely but very likely echoed my favorite line to me. REMEMBER TO BREATHE. It was not until she said it that it dawned on me that I do not remember the last time those words left my mouth or ran through my mind. I had forgotten to breathe so much that I had forgotten to even remind myself to try. To you as well, REMEMBER TO BREATHE.

It may not seem like much but for as long as the breath still fills in your lungs, comes back out and continues the pattern, there is possibility. Where possibility lies, lies hope, and vice versa. I know hope crashes. Hope crushes. Hope burns. But hope also rises up again. Hope also rebuilds. Hope restores.

I may not have the solutions or even know exactly what it is you are feeling. I may not know what exactly happened five years ago or five days ago. But I see you. I am you, to some degree. And I think you will be okay one day, some day.

You are loved. If not by anyone else, by me at the very least.

Love,

Your friend.