When is too much and we cannot handle it anymore? We can suffer too much? We can love it too much? Where is the line between obsession and ridiculous? Is it when you close the door but hide in the closet and wait to hear the key unlocking what you left open? Is it when you hung up the phone shouting and then looking for hours at the black screen? Is it when you write the last letter and check your mailbox every single day for another response? We create attachments with people that get in our lives, with whom we share what is in between the sunrise and the dawn, we keep the memories imprinted in the night sky, and we remember with every breath we take how much we loved to live that life. We add moments that make it impossible to get even to the bodega from the corner without remembering at least one moment. We have dreams that cannot make a difference with reality and everything is a page from the fairytales, impossible to stay in or to return without the magic that is in within. We add memories that we collect in a piggy bank, with the thought in mind that one day everything is going to be smashed under the force of a hammer, but there are no interests and we are not going in debt with it. What a sweet lie! We are in a euphoric stage and we forget how is to replace the air with the viscosity of the salty tears, that drain the bottom of our soul and leaves it dried, in drought for many seasons. We keep the flowers that push through our skin the thorns until we cannot handle anymore the pain, and we release them. We let to fly above the highest realm, the air balloons filled with our wishes and hopes. We let them go, we liberate, we say goodbye for the last time.
“If we can just let go and trust that things will work out the way they’re supposed to, without trying to control the outcome, then we can begin to enjoy the moment more fully. The joy of the freedom it brings becomes more pleasurable than the experience itself.”
― Goldie Hawn
We go around the empty space left in our soul as we circling the hollow tree afraid of what is felt inside. The echo we hear from inside is scary and empty, without a bottom. We are afraid to reflect our fears in the shadow that doesn’t give any answers, just darkness and emptiness, left without an answer and without hope. We are filled with anger and despair, we drag our feet trying to escape from what we create with love and passion. Left alone everything is getting rotten, eating our guts from inside, feeling the emptiness from inside growing without boundaries. Like a kettle on the stones in the fire, we feel that everything is going to explode if we don’t release and leave everything before it would destroy us. But when is the time to release the love and loss, after the first love or when we think it was the last one? What calibrates the soul of too much anger and too much passion? We scream and pour rivers of tears just to realize that nothing changes what was too deep imprinted on our skin, stronger than any ink, deeper than any scar. Time heals everything, but who wants to wait for that? What do we do in between when life is just a shadow of what it was and tomorrow is just a lie that we would probably never reach? The moment we leave behind our investments until the moment we heal our soul, where do we exist, what is called that place? It must be a void in space where we get numb and we lose our senses, we get our vital supplies in bags of glucose, and artificial light filled with vitamin D. We should stay in the safe space where there are no pictures to recall all the moments, where there are no songs to remind us what we loved the most, apart from any smell of cedarwood to recollect all the hours spent together in the rose graden.
“The anger welled inside me, with nowhere to go. I could feel it eating away at me. I knew if I didn’t find a way to release it, it would destroy me.”
― Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl
We never heal and forget, we only lie and hide our true feelings on the bottom of our soul along with the other lost and found moments. We add layers of emotions until it metamorphosis into hard stones that feels heavy in the stomach and would hurt too much to release them. We learn to live with them and we go around the hole left in our heart, careful and aware that there is a thin line before we can fall in again. We take out from under the bed the dusty luggage with memories and search for some pictures, anything left that can bring back the good times. We live with illusions and we try to replace in time the desire and we search for the spark we once kept us awake, but nothing can restore what was erased with ctrl+alt+delete. We hold the hope like a broken umbrella in the middle of the storm when we know is not helping but we keep the longing. We refuse to let go and we keep our eyes closed in front of all the other possibilities because our heart feels more than a mind can understand. We never have an ending, because an ending will not release what was lost, but would increase the amount of loss we feel. We release the bags of tears when we cannot get higher, like a hot air balloon, that doesn’t carry much, but to advance needs to liberate some of the weight.
“How many beginnings were held at bay because we refused to let an ending be an ending?”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough
I welcome you to follow the tale of that young lady who continued the journey in her life on Earth with fewer tears and hope, and learned that the present is the only thing she can recall when everything else seems to be a mismatch in the game …
….continue reading the rest of the tale in PART 48