Beauty Seen is Never Lost

My box of lives

Sometimes, when everything turns against you, when everyone around you is no longer around you. when you feel suffocated.lost.alone.confused. When you lose the sense of who or what you are..
you go back to that place, where you once hid the folded past, hoping it will never come up again.
Just to prove. You exist.

I opened my box of lives and rummaged through them, trying to find “it”.
The thing is, I don’t know what “ it” is.
Each item is starring at me hoping to be picked, hoping to have a word, or get an answer out of me. Their stares pierce through me. “We make you who you are”.




Item 1 : The dead black rose
Me: what happened to you?
Rose : you happened to me.
Me : when?
Rose: you don’t remember? April 2007. Your university’s majors day
Me : Yes.I do rememeber. You helped me decide.
Rose : Don’t worry, we all make wrong turns.

I picked another.

Item 2: An essay paper
Me : What a lie.
Paper: Everybody lies.
Me : your title. “ My best friend”. It makes me laugh.
Paper : does it?
Me : and cry
Paper : live and learn
Me : Your last line is hilarious.. “ you are not my friend, you are my sister”.
Paper : Things change
Me : Maybe they do. but. True sisters never stray

And another

Item 3: a broken watch
Me : who broke you?
Watch : the person who broke you.
Me: that was four years ago.
Watch : does it matter?
Me : yes. He changed.
Watch : I don’t believe in change.
Me : I do

And another

Item 4 : A card “إلى غاليتي”
Me : the ink you hold is precious. Carved by precious hands.
Silence
Me : I can still hear her words. even if you didn’t speak.
Silence
Me : louder than any silence.



Item 5 : Pink wool bracelet
Me : that sport day. Was a very long day.
Bracelet : why didn’t you take me off ?
Me : you reminded me at that time..
Bracelet : of what?
Me : of the few people. Worth breathing for.


Item 6 : A childhood picture
Me : Once upon a birthday
Picture : A happy Birthday
Me : I didn’t blow the candles
Picture : You had a wish.
Me : I had a fear.




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The “it” I was looking for was ironically the same “ it” I’ve been hiding from.

Posted by Diddlina at 9:09 PM