Thursday, July 03, 2008

Spoken arrows, Dying butterflies

I don't know where I picked up this trait from? The one that pushes people I love far away from me and the sincerest and truest apologies that I have to offer afterwards hold no meaning. The hurt is done. An arrow once shot can never be brought back. This particular trait of mine makes me go through bouts of depression, because I know I have caused tremendous pain to a loved one for no fault of his / hers. Everytime, I decide it has to stop at any cost, and all I come up with, are more such knives slicing hearts savagely. Makes me feel no less than a psychopathic cannibal.

I have this strange urge to have the final say in everything - insane argument, sane debate, fun interaction, lazy friendly banter, leg-pulling, professional discussion. I have this weird need to be "heard". I am loud, brash and extremely hurtful when I have to prove a point. And trust me, the problem has lately been growing to a level that makes it extremely uncomfortable for me. And I firmly believe it has something to do with a strange sense of insecurity. Not the type that makes me doubt anything or anyone, but the sort that has me fearing the loss of something extremely valuable to me. Something that'll break my heart into a zillion pieces if I don't keep it close enough to me and just let it go away.

I have heard of setting butterflies free and knowing they are meant to be yours if they come back to you. I have done that a few times before, and at the most important juncture in my life, the prettiest and and the most dazzling butterfly came back into my life, filling it with the most vibrant colours and swirling the shades of positivity, imagination, hope and cheer into fervent action. It is the most special feeling I ever felt. But right now, I am scared of losing that beautiful palette to anything else. It's my dream painted across the horizon. It's the most special thing I ever had. It's close enough for you to touch, you think, but you're always too far away. And only I see its significance for me. Maybe you'll see it someday too, but just not exactly the way I see it for me. It's something only I possess. It's mine and I'm guarding it with all my life.

The guarding aspect of it is what stifling the poor butterfly. The same one that filled my mundane life with those bright hues. I am guarding it way too closely, curbing its movement and killing its spontaenity and its ability to fly around me to surround me with all the strength in the world. I am killing it in trying to save it. I am killing myself.

All I am trying to teach my scared, timid heart is, give space, and let your happiness grow. Open up and make the world your cosy nest, just like that special butterfly in your life is telling you to. It'll have to come back to you if your arms are the world. Just wait patiently. Sometimes, it takes more than ten years to get what you've desired all your life for.