For as long as I’ve known waking in me a slew of mixed and conflicting feelings, spring is again making its presence noticeable. So I start wishing…
I wish that my life would be a constant and manageable flow of personal evolution. But it stubbornly chooses to move in unpredictable leaps and bounds; and not always forwards (but how else can we move forward if not by looking back once in a while so that the lessons we’ve learnt don’t get blurred into the scenery that we rush by).
I wish my heart would be strong and steady in its heartbeats. But instead its ramblings and roaming keep throwing me into a dizzying feverish trance just for kicks. I shake my head to snap out of it, snap back into focus. What I should do is shake (or is that shock?) my heart, to get its rhythm back to a normal pace, one that won’t feel like the particularly sensitive muscle is just about to burst into flames.
I wish the past wouldn’t keep flooding back on a regular basis, drowning everything in sight. I sleep. I sleep a lot to try to put up a damn it its path – but the sandbags at the edge of my dream land are no match for this deluge. I wish it to be stopped because its mesmerising beauty does nothing less than hypnotise me into believing what isn’t true anymore. I wish I could control the flood and summon it at will – there’s beauty in its force and force in the beauty of memories. A storm of wishes unwhispered and hopes unadmitted, of dreams come true and pink skies witnessed, of fireflies caught and falling stars wished upon.
I’m already lost, I’m already drowning, my heart is already burning and I’m leaping into the unknown with each breath I take, whether I like it or not. So all of my wishing…may have only been wasted words.