I’m a curious person. I’m curious by nature, and naturally very nosy. I’m one to ask too many questions and expect many answers back, do I get them? Well, do we all get the answers we want? I love the kind of people that when you ask them something, the back stiffens and they tip their head sideways. Lips curl and they speak from within and explain to explicit detail. People like that fascinate me, I don’t know what it is about them, but it’s like they have an unspeakable journey that they feel they need to tell you. A journey they dare share with anyone else, but you, like you’d understand, personally from them to you. As if they already know you. A relationship had been formed. Maybe not the usual way, but an interesting way non-the-less. I get this feeling, very often with people, with a warm look of inviting you to listen to their tale. I get attracted to this look, it makes me want to listen, listen to what they have to say, I walk up to them, listening, whilst they whisper their account. I sometimes can’t believe what they say. Each to their own story. Everyone has a story to say, but some just, have that special twinge in them, the type that keep you startled till you hear some more, have you had a story like that? One that keeps you reading, onto the next chapter, onto the next chapter, after that, either being part of their world, learning something new. I’ve found out, we all do learn something new everyday. I do something small, sometimes something big. People are amazing; they all have their own unique way of being, saying, and acting, to sit and watch people in a public space, is fascinating, the broad range of personalities and bodies, is far further than anything that could be dreamt up. Being within a church, it’s rather somewhat an unique experience. I have been there, observed and studied carefully. Sitting there, knowing exactly everyone’s purpose, knowing why they are there, and knowing they feel they belong, or should belong here. I admire them, as I sit there, watching them greet one another, watching them smile and laugh with one another. It’s a blessing. I sit there, unsure of myself, unsure of what my move should be, unsure of what I should speak of and look like, should I be acting a certain way? Why am I bothered by this? They don’t know me, or my testimonial, they haven’t learnt or spoken to me. Yet it bothers me, is it because of what’s around me? Knowing I have sinned, I know I haven’t been the best type of person. I know I could’ve been far worst, but, so much better. Why go back to the past? Sometimes, it’s nice to look at the past, look at what was once, and looking at what is now, the past makes our future, and the future is inflicted on what happened in the past.
I glare at the decrepit book in my hand; I’m clenching securely, gripping from underneath. My hands begin to shake and sweat, fear overtakes me, I don’t know if I want to know what’s here, my past. Do I need to know my past so I can continue with life? Is it the curiosity overpowering me to find out? Will it make me feel better? I feel stupid, standing here; holding onto something like it’s my life, ok, so it is my life, everything to do with me, it’ll teach me about, me.
I stand there for many minutes, gathering thoughts of whether I should or shouldn’t. This book was made for me? But how did all this get to me? Who wrote and processed this for me? Is there a purpose for this? To show me what I’m really about? So I can move on? I don’t know, I still don’t know, I don’t think I’ll ever know. It was made for me, I know. For me to read, and absorb the enchanted information held in front of me. It’s about me. I being a person, a person who’s tried their best with everything, hoped and dreamed, just like any other young person starting in life.
I’m a girl. An ordinary girl. A girl that hasn’t done anything amazing, isn’t famous, isn’t particularly pretty, not one to be or have the equipment to be anything spectacular. Yet, she’s lead a life of interesting events. Happy and sad events. Mainly happy. Personal events make you, who you are. They make you that happy person with a thousand stories to tell. The person dancing and singing in the fields giggling. Isn’t it strange, how we judge people? People we don’t know. It’s called being human. We all judge people, but on a series of events, that we know, we can sometimes act as though we know everything about them. We don’t. We probably only ever know what the other has shown us, is that them? Or is it a farce? Identity is a bizarre thing, we can be whatever we wish to be, you can adapt to any circumstance to survive. Amazing how far people go to become what they feel is the thing they want to achieve. I think all this. I think this as I’m standing holding my life in the very palms of my hands. Almost like a breath of fresh air, I felt the compulsory need to open the book that’ll change the way I think, forever.
I skimmed my hand over the front of the book, once again, feeling the rough texture of the cover. The small bumps and dints feel strange up against my skin, it makes me shudder. Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, like a prey, feeling the need to run, hide from what’s about to catch them in their trap. I need to get with it, pull myself together. I can do this.
My hand goes to the corner, the bottom right corner; I pull back the front cover and close my eyes. I squeeze them tight, so tight I fear my eyes may burst, I don’t know why I’m so afraid, but I am. So very. Slowly letting my eyes open a rush of blood comes to my face ‘ouch, that hurts’ I hear myself say. I look down at the aged papers in front of me, I see a picture, a photo of myself smiling, looking so young and free, a young girl that had no worries and so much to live for. That was me. I used to be like that, I used to love how my life was and what was in it, I’m beginning to love it again, slowly but surely. I think of people, the people. The ones that are everything to me, they know who they are, oh, that’s the beauty, they actually know, exactly who they are, they bring me up to where I want to be again. They show me the life, I’ve always wanted to lead, to me, they are this book, and they are my memories.
I bring the book down to the floor and lay it out, I take the scrap pieces of paper and spread them all out in front of me, and many are small sketches, sketches of me and others, small poems I’ve written through-out my precious life, my awards, achievements, everything I’ve done is laying in front of me. My eye catches a piece of white paper, my hand grabs out for it, I look and study it, I wasn’t sure what to do, but I decided I would share it, as it was something special. It reads:
‘Dear You,
I’ve written this to you, for you, I never knew when I was going to give this to you, but I figured I would one day, some day, only for you. I don’t mind who reads this, but it’s only ever going to mean something to you, depends how you interpret what I’m saying, anyone could change it for them, but, I wanted to give this to you, as you are my special one. The one I love, the one I want to say beautiful things and laugh about the silly things with, forever, I want that. Just like I told you, when you wouldn’t believe me, surely you remember that? I do, so clearly, that look you gave me of ‘yeah, whatever, your stupid, stop saying silly things’ then we kissed, but, I can honestly say that, I’ve always meant it. I don’t know what will happen in the future, for you, or me for that matter. Although I know I want you to be happy, and enjoy life, every tiny aspect of it, with or without me. You deserve it, I promise. You’re so much more than you’ll ever believe you are, you’re such a beauty, inside and out, ok, you’re going to laugh at that bit. So many memories, eh? I’m smiling so much as I write this, knowing one day, your going to share that smile till the ends of the earth. I know you will, because you’re a happy, smiley person, the way you have the right words to say, at the perfect moment, the silly face you pull when you’re trying to be serious. It never works, I see through it, but I know you’re being as serious as you can be, such a funny one. You screaming ‘yeah, well I love you more’, it make’s my whole insides smile of joy, sharing your laughter and seeing you happy, we’ll go far, I know. I think of holding your hand like the very first time we did, I winked and I knew it, you didn’t, but I did.
Everything is perfect, so perfect, I couldn’t think of making it better, or how to, the day-to-day smiles mean everything, I know I have you, as you do me. Please tell me what you think when you read this, I know I look terribly soppy, but you love it! I feel stupid, yet not, mainly because I’m sharing it with you, it’s nothing you don’t already know, our love, is love. I’ve turned our song on, and you know how I do love to sing along to it, very badly! Oh well, no-one will know of my awful singing abilities till now! The day you read this, oh, now you see my love, of how I need to think how you’re going to receive this, I’m putting it somewhere to store it. You’ll see it one day and it’ll make perfect sense, and put everything in perspective, your life, the way you shall be, and become. I know you’ll be something spectacular. Can’t tell you how perfect you are to the ones who loves you, when we tell you that we love you, we do, there again how couldn’t we?
I know you’re going to make a lot of people proud and happy, in the future; you have in the past and present, and will always be that person we love to be around. The day you get this, I feel will be a special day, a day of love and truth. Many people will tell you what I’ve told you, I can assure you that, whether they tell you, or not, is a different thing, but I know they’ll agree with me. I love you, forever and always. Forever in my heart.
Me.
X’
I re-read this letter a thousand times, a million times, and probably many more than that. I couldn’t believe that it was written and I never had any idea, till the day I had read it. This day, it’s so weird, not knowing how I feel about this letter. Looking at it, I press it to my chest and a tear comes down my face, I love him so much, I can’t express how true that letter is. I know people love me, I know that’s the person I am, yet I’m so unsure.
I put the letter down and look at the others, lots of photos, so many photos of friends, family, I pick one up, and it’s a friend, such a close friend. Not seen him in such a long time, brings back happy, weird memories, those days were weird, but I loved them with all my heart, days of talking total nonsense, laughing about things that weren’t even funny, talking from the heart of certain topics, and enjoying one another’s company. A friendship I truly treasure, one I really couldn’t forget. Friendships like that will always be around, but with that one person, only ever once. They rarely come along, so I’m sure to keep them. Wonder what things would be like now? Would things still be like that? Things, people move on, yet stay the same, these photos stay the same, and they look the same as the very second they were taken. Years can go past, in a flash of an eye, within them years, feelings change, and situations change, drastically. The people you knew once change, change is the process you have to go through to get by. It hurts, it can really hurt, but nothing can change and alter time. Why can’t things stay perfect like they once were? Wouldn’t it be simpler, would we be happy, more secure? Would we then stop living in fear? In fear of loosing the ones we love, ruining what we have? The world is based and around fear, fear of everything not going how we want to, and doing something that would change everything we know. What more can be done? Things break, things die, things go wrong. I speak of these as ‘things’ because that’s what they really are when you come to the bottom line. Life is full of things. Things are what make life.
Looking at the bent corners, I ask, who put this together, was it him? I love looking at this, time goes by, and you don’t realise how much you’ve accomplished, until it’s laying in front of you in your study. The little details looking at you, from your first drawing to your very last lie. So many errors, I’ve done so much wrong, been horrible to people who didn’t deserve it,
Miss-judged someone without knowing them, the days I was terribly stubborn and wouldn’t listen to some vital information, how was I to know about these? How was I supposed to know that they had something to say that would be of some importance? I do reflect back to these points, times, with friends, family, people I know, from all over. Those times, when I was at my worst. Times of tears and anger, so much anger, yet a sense of relief. I don’t know what to say, I do feel bad, I’ve apologised, what more could I have done? I’m not as perfect as you say I am. Although, there’s far more happier times than worst, times of laughter, sharing secrets, smiles and love. I picture everyone’s face smiling, they’re beautiful. Just beautiful. If anyone saw me now, they’d know something had come to me, that’d changed me.
Flicking through the pages frantically, I try and take as much information that my head would allow. I’m actually a blissful person, with so much love to give and receive. I’m getting so much happiness from looking at this book, ‘memories, eh?’ I chuckle to myself. Oh, how I love him. I love how people always say ‘oh I’ll never forget that day’ or ‘I’ll never forget that! That ones for keeps’ yet, they are so easily dismissed. Our heads couldn’t keep so many things in such detail, it’d explode, and things happen everyday. A new thing that makes you smile, or changes what you think about circumstances. We as humans are incredible.
I as a person remember events of happiness, ones of laughing immaturely, of getting lost in the woods on an adventure and saying silly things like ‘I don’t care where we are, I’m with my special people’ yet finding the way out ten minutes later, what fun we had that summer. Times of going on long bikes rides and baking fairy cakes, going on holiday and loving every moment. Where would I be without them? True contentment is so loosely spoken of, but I believe I am deep in my thoughts. Playing with my hair now, I dream of crawling into this book. Burying myself amongst the text and images, far in between the words and re-born into something I want to be. My whole set of memories are mysterious, having a whole range of events, strange events, but without them, I wouldn’t be what I am now. I do question what I’d be like if I didn’t meet the people I have. Saying that, I’m happy with the relationships I have at this present moment, of course there are things I would change, but it all takes time, I’ll get what I dream of in the end. People are everything in life, I repeat myself so, but my mind can’t help but to keep emphasising on the point. Emphasising that my story is about you. It’s about you. I talk and speak of you, the times I talk of; it’s built on the foundations of the people I love. It’s such a vital message, looking after and caring of what’s important. I’ll never turn my head on anything, everything comes at it’s pace, just take that advantage, things have altered the way I look and feel on life.
So this chapter may not have given you what you were probably expecting, but it’s made me realise, that everything near enough will have a happy ending, and it’s really only down to us to find it. I keep changing the way I speak and act its part of who I will develop into later on. It’s rather amazing how a piece of text can change pretty much everything you were expecting.
My memories are my memories. I dream, think and breathe, and I truly will never forget them ones that matter, they all matter, but we pick the special ones, to have as day-to-day perk ups. The book I speak about was full of them little areas, memories, many I forgot. So very many I had to laugh and cry over, but deep down they made me, me. I am me. Nothing’s going to change that, I love this book and I’m so mystified by what I read and take in, everyday. If your memories were put in front of you, just tell me one thing; how would you react?
No comments:
Post a Comment