the dance of the ink riddled fingers


Posted in epiphany tiffany, pin the tail on the love by enisea on 12/03/2011

I know a story, a few stories actually… about how to be the victim.  I used to write them often and lace them with pretty little sympathies that would melt in your mouth as you read it to yourself.  But those were the stories I would write immaturely, repeatedly under the duress that was my deception – the silly little tale of how loneliness had cornered me and saved up all it’s subtle evil to isolate me, steal away my voice and make cryptic my whispers for help.

But I have different stories to tell now.  God forbid those incessesant rescue-operations (with my name on it) from all manner of heartbreak would be dishonoured if I neglected retelling the victories that would disgust any ‘expert victim’ (of whose title I was formerly proprietary).

I will call these stories “Hallelujah”, because that is what they sounded like when my heart sighed relief, cried freedom and laughed geniunely.  I must confess, the path of late has been glittered with little victories only because lately was first peppered with little lonelinesses every little step… and not all of them I walked easily over.  However, the beauty of each week has been that not one has transpired without someone or another picking me up from the most recent fall, and sometimes they are consecutive days (the falls), but the bruises become bragging rights to boast of the survival of life with all limbs intact.  This is me, and I wish to inform you that this horribly uncomfortable process of my life is the victory of shedding the skin of the victimised.  Now, whether my parents actually put heavy thought into my name or not, I feel like I need to tattoo my name’s meaning onto my forehead to remind myself everymorning as I see my reflection, that I can no longer live the life of a victim – which has been a little ingrained into the manner of my memory.

The only difference there will ever be in my life will be the same thing that will always change it.

And that be love.

The sort of love that, as it rose, chased away shadows.  A boldness that loneliness cowered from because it defied the petty lies that gave strength to its deception.  Because you aren’t really alone, and if you really wondered, it is rather silly to think that there is only one lonely person in the world, and that it might be you.  The love that is honest in it’s reprimand that every single one of the closest people to your heart can’t read your mind, and that as much as they know you, they do not know you completely (nor would you let them), therefore isolation is usually the fault of the ‘victim’ – I know this because I played this part a lot in the past.   But love never left you, it never closed its eyes or turned its back on you; and it is not just a word, not even merely a loaded word, it is not a concept, nor a fairytale. It is reality and it is truth – one of the only darned things on this planet that has not and will not change – yet is in full demand and surprisingly rare.

I don’t know what conclusion I have for this.  I suppose I’m trying to get you to understand that love needs cooperation, and that if you were to be loved, then you could not be silent, nor could you simply be a silent recipient of it.  You would not be silent. You could not be selfish about keeping it to yourself, nor could you be silent about being lonely.  Revealing a little weakness is not the worst thing that could happen to you – in fact, it takes so much courage to say something ‘weak’, that I’ve now come to admire those who say that which I can hardly say myself.  What’s pathetic is that people rather hold up broken fascades whilst the merciless worm called loneliness leeches their everything.  I can’t stand loneliness. I hate feeling it, and I hate seeing it around me.  Love isn’t just an instant hollywood script and usually when we find it resembling such, we find it hard to trust in.  Because love doesn’t only feel like infatution; it is annoying, it is confronting, it doesn’t leave you alone when you wish it to and it will give you time to think when you don’t know what you’re meant to be thinking about, it will be honest and it will tell you how stupid you were/are and make you commit more than you ever expected to in the beginning, then turn around and demand for your forgiveness because you have offended it more severely before it offended you…  but it makes your entire life worth living and without it you will spend your entire life craving.

And this is why I can say “Hallelujah”.  Because I have it – love (though my struggles are no less than what I mentioned previously).  In it, in love, I am free.  And if there were no purpose in life, there would be no love, no lack of love, no truth and no justice. But as is, we (you and I) seem to believe in the virtues of “good”, which wouldn’t exist apart from the context of preferences if we evolved from bacteria.

Love is divine.



2 Responses

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  1. The Gods of Vice said, on 13/03/2011 at 9:09 AM

    you would never know the goodness or the truth had you never experienced the darkness or the lie. the part of you that was a victim is what has given you the freedom to appreciate love.

  2. jacjac said, on 14/03/2011 at 12:56 AM

    I love you!

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