Where am I?
I looked out of a window, over the horizon of a far off place
Where I could get what I never got
And when I walked away, the sky turned grey, and the rain was starting to come down.
So I went back to the house, and I reflected on the things I had glimpsed
On the possible lands I could live in, but never see again
And I got angry
Not because of the thing that didn’t happen
But for everything I felt inside: the pain, the melancholy, the disappointment, the hope
Knights who hadn’t lived my heart for a long time, and who had come forward without any warning
Finding me unprepared, unaccustomed.
I got angry because I felt too much, and I couldn’t do anything
Those emotions were there, and the only choice I had was to ignore them and bury them
But just recently I told someone distant that to repress them would only lead me to destruction, annihilation.
And I don’t want that, we don’t want that
Yet, I am still angry.
For how I was made and born, for how the suspension of time plays against me, drowning myself down in thoughts, images, imaginations.
Then one day I landed, and I realised that the only thing I had to do was wait.
Waiting for that tangle to melt by itself, and slowly transform into something different
I don’t know what yet, since I’m still waiting.
I don’t know if the Ariadne’s thread will lead me to a door that hasn’t opened yet or will keep me waiting for a while longer
But meanwhile, I’m learning to make peace with my emotions, to see and accept them
And this is the biggest improv act I’ve been playing in so many years.
Will I feel grateful for all of this? Maybe. Maybe I won’t regret all the intense things playing in my mind. Maybe this new act will lead me to write about something that is flourishing again, and that is not a person or a love, but simply my changing heart.
And I prefer, I would say, that my heart goes on beating
Instead of stopping