Tuesday, August 16, 2011


The birds were floating in the wind, swaying in the sky oblivious to my emotion while liquid strings evenly parted my face. I wanted to howl insanely at the world, and ask ‘why me?’ and ‘what should I do now?’ I wanted to tear myself apart or perhaps I wanted to disappear but, a part of me quietly wished to rise above the ashes and dust myself off.

My essence was aching and weary, I was falling apart silently. All there was left to do was to let my drenched spirit dry off. So I sat up straight, not smiling, nor frowning with one hand sanely supporting my chin I let the liquid strings stemming from my spirit run down my face while I gazed into a life that could have been.

I wanted to call her but she was away, I knew she would know exactly what to say to get me out of this spell.

I was desperate, so I called him instead.

He answered the phone and we talked about the ‘unimportant-importants’ that allowed a single day to have its own unique persona.

Cold liquid strings rested on my cheeks as I offered him my broken spirit. He told me he knew exactly how I felt, that he had been through it before. That it was hard, but that he managed to overcome it. He persevered. He said it made him truly wake up, he said it made him wiser.

I was and still am learning about the one I call ‘him’ and ‘he’. He …surprises me often, displaying maturity and courage and responsibility and plain old common sense. He… inspires me often.

I said to myself, if that is what failing does to those who chose to get back up… then maybe failing isn’t really failing at all. I said to myself I wouldn’t really mind surprising myself occasionally with admirable traits, I wouldn’t mind being a little bit wiser, a little more matured, a little courageous, a little more responsible and a little more conscious. I said to myself I wouldn’t really mind being a little bit more… like him. I wouldn’t mind having ‘character’.

I decided to cease sobbing and heard a loud quiet voice speak. It said: failing does not mean you are a failure.

When liquid strings slice into the symmetry of a face, someone is experiencing the growth of a character.