Thursday, 13 March 2014

Dear Diary: A ray of sunshine

I looked at the road ahead, convoluted and winding, and wondered how i was going to walk out of this impenetrable forest. But then i felt a warmth that kissed my skin lightly, a touch that made me feel adequately emboldened from within...and i saw light. A ray of sunshine. I was not cognizant of its source, but it lifted me, higher and higher, until i was surrounded in all its magnificent splendour. I remember feeling strangely inspirited, as if i was drawing strength from the brilliant majesty that surrounded me...and then i woke up.

I never know what my dreams mean, although it is rare that i have remembrance of them at all. Most of the time i am left with a faint inkling of its general gist, good or bad, and that is all. I've always thought the concept of dreaming amazing, being transported into some other-world. If only i had control over them, i would be considerably better off, at least for the few hours my body lies recuperating. Because i promised myself i would never shed another tear over insignificant matters, that happiness lay in my very own hands. I am going to be happy.

Although sadness...it is a strange word, one i hold very fondly. I don't look upon it as a negative matter, although i suppose its very definition implicitly suggests something "bad". I appreciate sadness, occasionally allowing it to consume me entirely, wrapping me in its all too familiar embrace. I haven't the faintest idea why people look upon grief as such an uncomplimentary affair, because in my humble opinion i find it rather expedient to one's growth, when applied in healthy amounts. Being sad has allowed me to better appreciate times of happiness, each memory a treasure, a gem held dear.

I suppose i should not be in the least bewildered, upon the finding that people i am better acquainted with find me slightly morbid. I suppose i can be...but I really am quite contented with life, apart from the occasional matters that worry me slightly. Life is comparatively quieter to its state two years ago...it seems such a long way back, i feel an entirely different person altogether. Perhaps i am growing up at last, although it would be far too audacious to make such a claim with any certainty at all.

Too often and rather inaccurately i think i have it so bad... a friend rightly pointed out there are people who would give anything to have what i now possess (not that it is very much, but that it is more than what a considerable number are accustomed to). I have only recently accepted and internalized the fact that loss is not only inevitable but also all right... it is perfectly okay to lose. Because in losing we gain, if not a relationship then at the very least a lesson learnt. It is also okay to be sad, to grief over loss...perfectly natural in fact. But that grief must not be allowed to last very long, so much so that it becomes a hindrance for potentially happy moments. And i guess that is what they mean, when they say happiness is a choice. Not that one is never sad, but that one, having undergone such an experience, is able to see past that melancholia. Because sometimes, you'll never recover enough. You'll never be okay, but you'll get better. And maybe that's reason enough, to get up and face the world with a smile.

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