This too, shall pass.

No, I do not have a breakfast story.

Take a walk with me. 

I am barely at that age where I am allowed to enter a club, but my heart has cracked more times than the age itself. I am way too familiar with the feeling of pain, hurt, disappointment, and having to make abrupt choices. And sadly, I have built a comfort zone around these feelings. I could be at my worst yet; my soul would crave to dig in deeper and see how much more I can take. It is sort of a solace for the piercing feeling. If you could take a 7/10 emotional pain, how much difference is an 8.5?

 

Each time we lose something; a book, a line in memory, a character we made up in our head, a path we can never go back to, an item, a gadget, a friend, a loved one…it does seem like we would never bounce back from the loss. How true this is. Our hearts beat faster at the thought of surviving without the lost 'item'. But we do, don't we?

Or, as they say, no one fully heals. That is why our scars have stories to tell. 

I’ll compare every loss or hurt to a scratch. The deeper the scratch is, the more painful it feels and the longer it takes to heal. Like when I was told I would be getting separated from the environment I grew up in for most of my pre-teenage years. I could not fault anyone because I knew it had to happen.

You know how a scratched wound feels when someone unintentionally rubs on it or applies spirit on it, that moment of intense hurt that over time transpires to grief which makes you protect the scratch more. Yeah, I got that feeling for the first time on my 10th year birthday.

 

My then favorite teacher who knew my family so well, mocked me for a loss. "How would your family survive now?" he asked as he laughed while flogging my ass. The beating was justified as I was failing in class exercises because I was too focused on my pain. I cried, silently. Not because of the flogging but because of how true his words sounded to my child-minded self. I asked God too many questions during that period as I was too blinded by grief to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I survived, didn't I? 4 years later, I did not move on, rather I got myself to move forward.

 

Most times, we do not envision ourselves living without someone, something, or a memory. 

So, what happens, when we lose them? 

When we wake up and the memory is gradually fading? 

When we realize it’s never going back to what it/we used to be?

Then, we get a new normal without them. Like how I stalk my R's Facebook page when the going gets tougher, or drink 'oka baba' in memory of my grandmother, and how I stopped listening to Ocean Eyes because it used to be J & I’s favourite nighttime karaoke song.

Sorry, I think I am a little bit obsessed with Sasha.

I found a way to live without these things and people. So, sorry, even if you leave today, I might be stuck on our memory, but I definitely will develop a new normal that might either include our activities or not.

 

We all have pretty little fears.

One of my lecturers asked us to anonymously write our greatest fear in a paper. By the time he read a couple out to the class, it struck me that everyone was fighting a battle they could not talk about. These fears, could either be the reason you push and go harder or be the reason you cave in. It's a matter of choice. Pick your battle.

 

Since you got this far…

It definitely hurts, maybe a little too much. On some days you're back on your feet and on others, it's like Day One, all over again. Your ship sails and then crashes even after stirring it in the right direction, Sorry Captain. Sometimes, it's bearable, other times, the emotions transpire into physical pain.

I do not know how much longer but, this too, shall pass.