Outside The Box

May 27, 2009

What is the enemy?

Time. Not in that ageing kind of way.... but more like, the space in between where there is a lot of it, and a less work for you. It brought to the second enemy called;

Thinking.

I used to want my thinking time. I even leave certain things behind so that I would have a thinking time. It's great to have that space when you don't have much to think and desires it so that you can have things to think of. It's not fine, when you have something that you don't want to think about while having lots of thinking time.

Because in the end, when it's quiet, except for the sound of the insects and the occasional speeding vehicles passes by, it brought you back to it.

There are certain transparent feelings, thoughts, emotion that one expresses. The joy, the sorrow, the hate, the love. They're black and white. A certainty. I expresses them every single day - show it to the world, embrace it with heart and soul. These feelings are tangible, not in an obvious way, but certainly it is so strong it manifests itself. Like you can touch it.

But there are also the greys. The sort of feelings that one rather repress than express. A question that you'd rather not ask, an answer you'd rather not know. These little emotions stays in a box, tied up real tight and sits there inside a part of your heart that you wouldn't dare to enter.

And every single day you have the urge to open the box, dig deep inside it and see what's there. Every single day you fight with yourself, asking 'what ifs' and 'just maybes', but are too afraid to go there. Afraid that, like little jack in the box, the thing inside the box would just sprung out and laugh at you as you stumble onto the pavement. Afraid that if you look inside of it, there is nothing but hollowness.

There is satisfaction in not knowing. It's not those kind of satisfaction that breeds happiness. All my life, I believe that there is no such thing as ignorance. There is no 'not knowing'. It's not I do not know, it's I'm 'yet to know'. How foolish I was. For there are things that you just want to ignore.

Like that thing in the box.

The black coloured box, with blue ribbons. You did not tie it into a bow, but into a knot so tight, you have to cut it with something sharp. Sitting there in that place and locked away, and avoided. Like a road less traveled that you'd rather not go.

And this black box is the one I would never want to open, for I know there is nothing good in it, but another crack waiting to happen. But it also has that happiness that I desire. But the thought that it comes with a price that I could never afford makes me wish the box would just vanish. That I should never even create it. That it just turn into a neon light, and I'm the lost bee that would die trying to embrace it.

But then again, that feeling inside the box expands by itself, unconsciously. And every single day it calls to you, wanting to let itself out. It started to plug the exit and you realise that it suffocates you.

For every single day I walk another way. Everyday I wish to Him to dig me a tunnel, but He brought me back there and wants me to deal with it. Not dealing hurts my heart, and dealing hurts my soul. Wherefore should I go?

Time. They say it heals all wounds. But it also create new ones.