Deep Enough

I never did expect them to come back. I thought I buried them deep enough that I knew they would never haunt me again. I never saw them coming.

I’m talking about the emotional shit I carried with me since I was a kid. I reached an age where I decided to ignore it. Get rid of it by burying it deep enough. I put on a happy face throughout my teens. Others believed me. I believed me. I believed me for so long.

Then I grew up. I really grew up, which brings us to now. That happy face has become a reflex. I carry it wherever I go.

But, then, then the night comes, and the happy face has no place there. I thought my baggage was gone. I thought I got rid of it years ago.

And that’s when it hits me and I cry. I shed tears with the shudders of my body. I tremble from within as my emotions resurface and I feel again. I feel everything and remember everything.

I thought I buried them deep enough, but I never thought they’d find their way out. They’re breathing now while suffocating me. Their hands on my throat. They’re screaming in my face telling me to feel them. They want to be acknowledged.

I close my eyes and let them all out. I cry fifteen years of tears and ignorance.

I thought I buried them deep enough, and I did. I just forgot to close the casket.


Death

Death. It seems so final, doesn’t it?

People used to ask me, “Doesn’t death frighten you?”

My answer had always been, “No.”

And I believed it. I truly did. The “why” part is something I was sure about as well. I was excited to see what’s on the other side where, I believed, there should be a beautiful world. I was excited to meet my Maker. I was excited to be at peace.

But, now, when I think about it, I start doubting my confidence.

Death means people will decide to let go at some point. They’ll let you go. They’ll try so hard to forget you because you have become a painful memory to them. You will become pain itself for those who love you.

Death means all that’s left of you is a fading memory. Is that what I want to leave behind? A memory? A memory that will disappear in few months? Years? Even years aren’t enough for me. What am I leaving behind?

Death means my ending. A few decades later, it’s like I’ve never existed. My name is something they’ll never know. And my value? What value? I’ll become nothingness.

Don’t I deserve to be remembered? Don’t I deserve better than a fading memory? Better than nothingness?

After everything I went through and everything I faced, don’t I deserve more?

I spent my whole life trying to become something and someone that matters.

Why is death allowed to take that away from me?

Why is death so final?

Why can’t we fight it and, for once, win?


Life After Birth

When we’re born, we cry, as if we know what’s in store for us.
And life, well, it starts preparing its list of misdeeds for us to endure.
It starts preparing its schemes and tragedies along with a couple of laughs and endless tears.

But first, before all of that, we learn to walk, excited to start the journey.
We learn to talk, excited to be heard.
We learn the alphabets and start forming the words.

Then, pain pays you a visit.
Only six years old and you witness harshness from the man you first loved.
Something you don’t understand at first, but then it haunts you throughout the journey.

Few years later, the man is away.
You find happiness, but you don’t understand.
Ten years old and hate develops.
The woman looks down at you, but you turn away.
The happiness fades as confusion takes over.
You miss the harsh man and hate the loving woman.
Clarity has no place in your world.

Then, the man is back and fear fills the space.
Fifteen years old and pain is greater than your age.
In the house, peace finally finds its place.
As it leaves you with emptiness.
The man remains there, along with the woman.
And now, you hate the both of them and you just don’t know why.
You spend nights crying and thinking, trying to understand.
But the confusion is impossible to beat.

Nineteen years old, and you’re finally away.
Whenever you go back, you feel the pain.
You cry, but you’re used to it.
You’re used to that part of the night.
And the darkness? Well, it has become part of you.
It has become your life.

This is the life after birth…