6 months ago, 6 months from today. I would’ve written about how I don’t understand anything. How everything seems so complicated, how problems often lead to other problems, questions into other questions. And the answers? There weren’t any. Its as if the answers I needed turned themselves into pollen, drifting away, brought upon the winds of change. No matter how many millions of pollen there were out there, answers, none seem to land in front of me, even beside me, none at all. The wind that carried the answers, decided to change itself into a typhoon of a mess. It battered me. It shook me, but no matter how hard it tried, I stood steadfast. I defied the winds of change. I defied change, because I was afraid.
Because from a far, things seem easier, things seem calmer, serene even. While others were telling me a storm was coming, and decided to build houses and shelters, I decided to mock them instead. I delighted in the light breezes that filled the air, the smell of the ocean, near and yet somehow far. As time stretched, so did the horizon beyond me. The winds became stronger, but still I defied it. It brought upon the smell of the ocean nearer this time. Instead of building my shelter, I decided I’d rather go for a swim, the things that were meant for a house, decided to turn itself into a raft instead. The scent of salt, and water intensified, and the insatiable thirst for such things heightened. I had been walking for so long, that the gravel beneath me, turned into soft, warm sand. I was delighted, ecstatic even. Even the greying clouds above and small pelts of rain could not shake me. My raft drifted afloat, the ocean was agitated though, but I need not fear, my raft was as sturdy as my pride, to which I took confidence in. The light breezes I so delighted in, masked itself in strong winds, and impending rain. Still, I stood steadfast, the ocean now showing defiance, greeted me with strong waves, and still, I took confidence, in a raft, merely made on sticks, rope, and maybe a little bit of hope.
The farther I drifted, the more I dreamed about the horizon. I dreamt about reaching the end of the horizon, and the wonders it held for me. But the ocean, along with howling gales, told me to turn back, to change, to be different, that I had made a mistake. But my raft was still floating, my pride was still there, to which I replied to the ocean and the wind, with a defiant no. I dreamt about the horizon because it was the only thing I could hold on to. Dreams, anchored my raft. The horizon lured me with the promises of dreams far away.
After awhile, I decided to look back, and this time, I had realized that my raft was not as strong as I thought it was. I could no longer see the shore, so in turn I thought, it was too late to go back, to change. The horizon seemed farther each time the wind blew. And now the winds were no longer breezes, nor gales, but amassed itself into a typhoon, the ocean, into a vast pool, of darkness, of emptiness, so pure yet so black. For the first time, I felt scared. It gripped me, and no sooner than later I realized I was drowning. The raft that I thought would protect me from the waters deceived me.
The horizon was no longer there, I could no longer see it. Replaced by dark waves, and cold wind. For the first time since I’ve decided something so foolish, I cried. Not because I was sad, but because I had realized that the change I tried so hard to defy, finally broke me. The oceans punished me, not because I had made a mistake, but because it was trying to save me. It was pushing me. The typhoon used its winds to whisper words of comfort, words of encouragement, winds that I thought from its rage would leave me breathless. Here, I was, alone in the vast dark ocean. The raft I confided in, was no where to be found, not even the sticks nor the rope were there, but at least, something stayed with me, hope. I cannot say how long I was stuck at sea, nor how long the wind battered against my bare cold skin, but somehow the shore greeted me. The sands were soft and warm as I remember. I stood up slowly, but I stood now not with pride, but with change. I walked and walked until the feet beneath me turned from sand to gravel. The wind returned to the light breezes I delighted so much in. It brought with it the whispers of the ocean, and yet something new. The wind brought with it the pollen I needed, for pollen symbolized new life, a new beginning. Like a dream, I held on to each one, and I awoke.
Those 6 months, was nothing short of a dream. A nightmare? Maybe. But something reminded me it was not just some bad memory I was trying to forget, a nightmare I was trying to wake up from, because I knew that in those months, I had found answers. I would’ve written about how I don’t understand anything. How everything seems so complicated, how problems often lead to other problems, questions into other questions. And the answers? They were with me the whole time. I just needed a little pollen, and salt.