As I am writing this, there are two patches at my back to relieve what seems to be a perpetual backache. Simultaneously, I am trying to juice out whatever is left in me to find the right words for my manuscript. As I write or try to muster to write, I am thinking of endings. Undeniably, I feel sad, empty and heartbroken as I finish the last words for my paper that took me 7 long years to finish. But the truth is, it required me a lifetime of experience to finally reach the last of the chapters.
I remember a lot. and perhaps there are things I remember that I should better not. Maybe it is human to, most times, remember pain and agony. Perhaps it is the depth of the experience, or the gashed memory it left after, that made us easily access it. or maybe it is simply something that our mind wired us to always remember.
I remembered to be strong.
That time when the rain was hammering down my umbrella, while its thin layer of cloth was leaking, soaking my shoulders and back, I was rushing to catch the last mass for the day. I was feeling dead, if being dead has a feeling! My mind went blank, I was carrying about 7 kilos of papers and a ton of questions, dismay and frustration. I was, in that moment, on my way to oblivion. For some reasons months passed by without proper sleep and food. Most times, I had too much of it, and for rare moments none of both. It was tasking, for even sleeping too much requires effort.
I tried to wake myself up. It took me about 1.5 years to finally convince myself that tables do turn around. Along the process I learned a few things. I enrolled myself in yoga classes, self-taught myself Mandarin and mastered poker. But little did I realize that no matter how I distract myself, some damages were edged too deep, recovering wouldn’t be possible.
Sadly, the people we are expected to cling at in moments like this are likely to fail us. They couldn’t understand, could they? It’s true, being strong is the only choice we can have sometimes. But no matter how difficult it is, how agonizing our chosen path is, we should at least cling to hope. Hope is a gift. But clinging onto it isn’t something easy when almost everything gave up on you- family and friends. Wouldn’t it be stupid to hold on to hope when everything else falls apart?- but what choice do we have?
And after a bazillion linkin park songs played on my head set, i didn’t notice that the tables do turn around. Hope is truly alive. and strength is something we have always been carrying since. being strong in the end isn’t a choice, it, too, is a gift. Thanks God, it ended beautifully.