My Beloved
My beloved,
It is almost 2:00 a.m. and I cannot sleep. This happens, sometimes, when my my body is too tired to live anymore, but my mind is in a trance. This has happened so much this month, because it has been one of those months that has flown past me. I have woken up each morning with too much stuff to do in the day, that by the time it clocked 6 p.m., all I wanted was to get into bed and sleep.
But what have I gotten? Sleeplessness and dark circles beneath my eyes. Because even though I have prayed and wished for these things that are happening right now, I did not envision that they would come to me this soon. That they would be this huge. That they would come to me when I least expect them. That they will nudge me out of sleep, demanding my attention.
That I will wake up, like today, and knock my head several times against my bathroom wall. Why? Because it just dawns on me that it is Thursday, and I have nothing to write. Just then, it dawns on me that these things I have been wanting for so long, come with their own rules; the ones I have to abide to, if I want these things to stay.
So I lie in bed, awake, at 2 a.m., begging my mind to go to rest. And when it refuses, you are the only person who crosses my mind. I envision myself seated in your house, across from you, talking about life at large. About darkness and sadness. About our fears and beliefs. About dreams, and the things we hold so close to our hearts.
Other times, we sit in silence, each to their own, and it still doesn’t get awkward.
You are the only one who crosses my mind at 2 a.m., when my triggers have finally gotten to me, and an anxiety attack is looming from a distance. I think of you; the softness of your voice and the sincerity of your words. The calmness in your nature and the love always in your eyes. I think of you, only, because for all these years I have been alive, I have not come across any other person who gets me like you do. Who sees me before I speak out. Who sees the storm within me before it erupts. Who knows when I am being too hard on myself, and urges me to slow down. Who understands my love for mystery and darkness; because these are the very things I have lived with, and get lost whenever I lose any of them.
I think of you, only, because for one more time, I desperately want someone to hold me close, and tell me that I will be fine. That these things overwhelming me, are preparing me for the greatness that lies ahead. That these things I worry about, a lot, are just a tip of the iceberg. They will show up, in full, someday, and I will wonder why I even worried about them. That these things I keep trying to run away from, will always be part of me. They will always live within me, looking for an opportune moment to manifest.
I think of you, only, because our previous conversations keep playing in my head. Like on my birthday last year when I couldn’t help but think I was stuck. Then you, in your gracious nature, pulled me close and told me I am on the right track. That at my young age, I have achieved just as much. And these things I want, or these things I envision I should have by now, will come at their own time. Why? Because you see me working towards them, everyday.
Look around you. Look at the chances you have had. Look at the heights you have scaled. Look at the dreams you have achieved. You may not see it, because you are the one taking the journey. But trust me, those of us looking at it from the outside, see it.
So when I lie in bed, awake, at 2 a.m., I am desperate for your voice. I am desperate for someone who understands the truth behind darkness and sadness; there can never be sadness without darkness. I am desperate for the beat in my chest to get back to normal, and it pains me that the one person whose words do the magic is so far away.
Sometimes, it bothers me that our worlds are too far apart. That we are not the closest of friends. That we do not talk as much as I would have loved to. That other times, I avoid you as much as I can. Why? Because I am avoiding the dependence. I am teaching myself to be my own go-to- place. I am avoiding that which I am going through right now – lying in bed awake, waiting for a voice I am not sure knows what is happening.
Because, somehow, I am afraid that a little bit of my mystery and sadness will stain you. That someday, you will lie in bed, awake, at 2 a.m., because I am on the other end of the phone call, asking whether there is a way you can calm my racing heart. That you will lie in bed, awake, at 2 a.m., beating yourself up for failing to calm my racing heart. Why? Because the things that make my heart race are not constant; they vary from day to day. And maybe, just maybe, there will come a day that your words, no matter how soft and sincere, will fail to calm my heart.
So when sleep evades me at 2 a.m., I try as much as possible to push you away from my mind. And when I fail, I only pray that this thing we have, this bond we share, this friendship we hold so close, brings us nothing but happiness and fulfilment. That these stories we share remind us of kindness and love. That these lives we live, remind us that there are people watching from the outside, and cheering us on.
And that someday, I will look back and thank the universe for letting our paths cross. For you, my beloved, are the balm to my wounds.
