Missy was a confident girl. She thought very highly of herself. In fact, it may have been difficult to find someone who loved herself more than Missy did. She was a champion and on top of the world, and the world she lived in was not big enough for her. Every little corner and every little niche, every small building, every small town house, everything about the steady little town was not big enough for her. She felt like a giant of potential, trapped within a tiny little bubble of non-opportunity, just waiting to explode. And every single moment since the realization of her capacity in that little town drove her insane. Missy was bigger and better than that and the small town she lives was just not big enough to contain her. And so she waited, bided her time and dreamed of the day she would burst free into the world. For it was a bigger and wider world out there, waiting for her. Full of chances and opportunities like fruits ripe for the picking and glistening deliciously on the trees. And if she could only get out there, she would own it. The path to her own destiny. Where options and possibilities will be presented to her and she would be free to do with them whatever she willed. To discard some and favour others; she would be free.
She was an ambitious girl. Full of burgeoning hopes and dreams, scattered all over the place yet to develop into full formation. She was creative. She read, sketched, sang, danced. And she wrote, a lot. She was a nice girl. Polite, well-mannered, and mild of temper. She was very much a spontaneous person. She was also enthusiastic, sensible, intelligent, a good listener, loud and jolly good company. But for all the good things Missy was, she also had her problems for Missy was very much an introvert and a loner. She would go everywhere alone, pleased and content in her own company. She would get lost in her thoughts and introspection was her friend and constant company. She would think and think and think and perhaps over-think a lot of things. But that meant that she made some discoveries of the human condition rather early on in life. Missy was eccentric and an exhibitionist. She was never a social butterfly but adapted well. She hid behind a mask of false smiles and a general and rather unusually ubiquitous agreeableness. And over the years, the mask hardened into a shell, naturally called upon when people were around and became second nature. Missy lived in her own world, part fantasy, part reality. All the time waiting, for that something bigger and better to come along. And always hopeful. She was good-natured, she was kind, she was romantic and she was passionate. She was a little girl.
Now Missy's first proper crush was a boy she had known in kindergarten and had met again when they were 16. He had dated her friend from primary school and that was how she met his acquaintance again. He was gentle, soft spoken, mild and nice. She enjoyed his conversation. And it was a new feeling. A light, fluttering touch, caressing her young heart and mind and she enjoyed any contact she could have with him be it on a chat server or casual texts. What they spoke of then only the Lord knows, it flitted from subject to subject, never really intellectual, but never particularly superficial either. She relished every opportunity to meet him, whenever their friends would go out together and he would be there. She would stay on late, so long as she could leave after him. She would go out of her way to make conversation with him and she was so shy around him. But it was not to be. And he found himself a proper girlfriend soon enough. A girl from his school, three years younger than him. And she soon forgot about him.
Missy's first love was music. In particular, singing. She loved to sing. She loved the soaring heights it would bring her to. The dramatic lifts and falls, the crescendoes, the gentle decrescendoes. The expressiveness of belting a heartfelt song into the air where it would waft and hover while more and more notes joined it there as the song progresses. It had a haunting enchantment for her and gripped her. It was her only true passion. The one thing that she never tired of, no matter how many times she did it. There was always a new song, or an old song to revisit. There was always a time, a need for it. And before long, she decided that what she truly wanted to be in this life, was a singer.
But Missy had a problem. For all her confidence and self-assuredness in everything else, she had stage fright. And even then, she knew that stage fright would be the undoing of her career as she was never one to shamelessly go and fight and argue for what she wanted. Part of the consequence of being a quiet, shy girl with a social shell. The shell never extends deep enough. And even then she knew that.
Her dream of becoming a performer someday fully materialized when she was 17. It was an age of enlightenment. But for Missy it seemed, the days never seemed so bleak. This was the point in life when, Missy learnt truly what unhappiness felt like.
She was growing impatient, you see. Everywhere she looked, the walls seemed to press in on her. And she felt ever more and more trapped by the seclusion and smallness of the town she was living in. Every part of her was screaming that the time was now. She needed to break free, to be released into the big, wide world where she could then possibly pursue her one true love. A career in the music industry. But for someone with so much confidence, Missy also had a tremendous amount of self-doubt. Particularly when it came to things she really, truly cared about. And she cared deeply about singing. And so her days grew ever bleak. She had lost all interest in academic pursuits and from left and right, people were pressing for her to do well. It was a shock as it would rightly be expected, to those around her for up until that point, she had as well as everything else, been a star academic student. But things crashed and burned that year and her results fell to dismal points.
She had barely the will to get out of bed in the morning and spent ample time sleeping throughout the day, somewhere inside her, afraid of what facing the world might bring. But at the same time she began losing sleep as well. Listening to her favourite songs caused her pain for she felt the twinge of longing and self doubt with every note. She was stuck in a rut. But still, somewhere deep inside her she till bore hope. Hope that when the time came and she could finally leave, it would all be better.
It was then that she met an astounding person by the name of Brother Gregory. It is unsure what role brother Gregory had to play in Missy's life, only that it had an influence. An indescribable and intangible influence but for some reason she has remembered him and felt this indescribable influence up till today.
A family friend had heard of her penchant for the performing arts and suggested she speak to a visiting brother at the local Catholic church. A brother Gregory. He was supposedly a practitioner of law for 14 years before giving it up in favour of a life as a Catholic priest. And he was apparently very well educated in the arts.
So the day dawned when she was to meet this wise man. She had imagined him rather old, wise and patient. An old man of soft manners playing a piano before a stained glass window. That was the image she had held when she went forth to meet brother Gregory. But when she finally stood before him, Missy was rather surprised to find that this was no old and bent wise and gentle man. This was a stern and firm man of barely middle age with hair lightly greying at the temples. It was rather bewildering for the little girl.
Brother Gregory began by asking her why she did not want to do law and she answered simply because it did not speak to her passions. Missy told brother Gregory much about herself, particularly her proclivity towards the less likeable natures of humanity.
"I am cynical and selfish," she had said with no small amount of self-assuredness.
"Why do you sound so proud about it?" he had asked then. To which she merely shrugged. Missy was still too young you see. She understood then that it was unusual to be proud of such things, such qualities. But the young will always think they know of everything and she had never fully contemplated what had caused her to embrace such negative qualities and embrace them as a point of pride. All she knew was a vague inclination that being ruthless puts one ahead in life and that was why she valued those traits. In hindsight, it made her feel more powerful. More ready to face the world.
Brother Gregory showed great aptitude in the arts. He quizzed her on Shakespearean and classic plays to which it can safely be said that she knew nothing about. And her inability to answer any one single question astounded her and made her anxious. For she had known instinctively by then that he was an intelligent man. And she wanted desperately to impress him. She hadn't met many people more intelligent than she in that small town, in fact she had begun to think it was full of idiots, and it was refreshing as well as challenging. But she had no answers that day. Or the next, when he quizzed her how much she knew about the classical opera music scene. She felt so stupid every single time. And he made her feel like a school child being chided in the headmaster's office. She would berate herself on the way home every time, promising and vowing to do better the next time.
The third meeting, she was to sing for him. And Missy was exceedingly nervous. It mattered to her to perform well that day. His approval mattered to her because some part of her felt that if he could approve of her then perhaps, just perhaps, she had a fighting chance. And she felt like she needed to feel that desperately even though at the time she may not have known it.
In all nervousness and with her stage fright, it was no surprise she did not perform so well. And that rather upset her. But she was to have one last chance. She was to perform a scene from a play for him next and this at least she was determined to do much better than this time. Her performance when it happened, was lacklustre at best and her heart almost jumped out of her chest while she acted. But thankfully it was better than the last.
Upon parting, brother Gregory smiled at her at what felt like the first time since they'd met and said, "Good luck." Good luck.
Two words that she would ponder upon for the next two days or so, feeling uplifted by it's implication. For what did it mean? Did it mean that he saw something in her, something that could bring her the chance of success in the field? It wasn't much. But it brought her hope.
That time marked a period of particular conflict within her household, centred around her. As they say, teenagers are rebellious and she was one particularly. The announcement of her intention to pursue the performing arts had not been met well and began to be the root of much conflict within her home. Her parents absolutely disapproved, and she absolutely insisted. It was her one true love you see. And she fought for it. Never had she fought for something so long and so hard before.
Her parents favoured the more stable and respectable profession of law while she favoured the utterly disreputable arts. But in the end, after months of conflict, she agreed. She was now bound for the city, ready to take the next step in life, and the next step towards a qualification in law, and the next step towards the freedom to make her run in the big, wide world just as she'd always dreamed. And maybe there, she could take her first steps into music as well.
College life was a breath of fresh air. New habits were formed, old ones broken. New friends were made and many old ones forgotten. Missy felt that she finally had room the grow and she relished the opportunity. It was a city of opportunities and she was going to make them work for her. She performed in as many events as she could, joined clubs for the performing arts. And college was where she met him. The first boy she would ever have a good and proper "Teardrops on My Guitar" crush on.
Up until that point, she had never known it was possible to feel so deeply for a boy, but that she did and it was unprecedented. She spoke about him to anyone who would listen. For a while it seemed like her life revolved around his existence. He was articulate, intelligent, worldly, and got along well with girls. He treated her with affection afforded for the best of friends and that made her hope that perhaps she had a chance with this boy.
Missy had never known such feelings before. And it was uncomfortable. She desperately wanted him to notice her. To see her as a potential girlfriend as opposed to just another friend. She relished his compliments and wanted to impress. But, she refused to change her dressing, even though she thought it might improve her chances for she wanted him to like her for her. She had big romantic ideas, Missy. And she believed truly, in love and in loving someone for exactly who they were. Nothing else mattered. There was nothing else. It was almost black and white. That was what love was to her. And she dreamed of love. Of finding someone who would cherish her for herself, as herself, for the rest of their lives together.
He was a good boy, intelligent, a scholar, decent family background and fashionable. And he was good to her. He seemed like the perfect choice.
Then her birthday came around and a joint celebration was to be held with some other classmates. She could not sleep the previous night due to a mixture of excitement and anxiety for how the day would go for birthdays were a celebration and meant something to her.
Missy had a birthday dinner planned with some close friends. But he could not make it, for he had to go out to get a birthday cake for the joint celebration. Finally it was time to open the gifts, and she opened hers, a present from everyone with a card signed by everyone. Such anticipation was crushed almost instantly. Missy was almost appalled to see the horrendous selection of knick knacks inside the bag. What made it worse was knowing that he had been responsible for picking the presents. It looked as if someone went into a dollar store blindfolded and picked the first six things they could lay their hands on.
Upon perusing her card which had been signed by everyone, she could not find his signature. She looked again and again and finally found a small squiggle by the side which had no name or message to it and realized that it had to be his as the rest had all been accounted for. The disappointment crushed on her heart like a weight of bricks. He could not even have been bothered to sign his own name, and that disappointed her young heart so.
She made her disappointment known to her friends, and they pronounced their disapproval of his gift choices. She moped and bemoaned his obvious indifference. One day, she went shopping with one of them for a birthday gift for another upcoming birthday. She browsed half-heartedly and expressed her opinions, still down about the fact that at least they were making an effort to choose something their friend would like, unlike his callous and apathetic attempt at gift-buying.
That day before leaving, the friend she had been shopping with hugged her and ran to the waiting car. Missy had felt someone jostle her bag as she moved in for the hug and turned to check it. Upon opening it, she found a necklace that she had expressed favour for of earlier while shopping for the gift, nestled in her bag with no reason to be there. It took her a moment to realize what was happening and by the time she looked up, her friend was already gone, the car already woven into the pattern of traffic that lined the roads of the city.
She was surprised at how quickly and easily the tears came. Flowing freely like rivers down her cheeks as she sobbed, tears of happiness for the first time in her life. She was so moved she did not know what to do, how to react. And so she moved through the mall, crying the whole time. Sobbing like a child. It filled her heart to bursting and when it did burst, gratitude and a gushing of tears washed out. It was the single most touching experience of her young life and would continue to be for many years to come. She probably learned something about friendship that day although exactly what has yet to be defined even by herself.
She agonized over him for months, 6 months to be exact. It was a new love, it was a young love. It wasn't love. Finally, after months of analysing and thinking and looking into things he said and did, she decided she could not take any more of it and decided to confess. The folly and hopefulness of youth.
The day was set and the confession made. But he rather politely and vaguely turned her down, claiming they would be better off as friends. The numb set in, keeping the embarrassment and the sadness at bay for the rest of the day. It would be a day or two before it finally dawned on her just how embarrassing and upsetting it was to have been rejected and by someone she liked so fiercely and who was an integral part of her social circle of 4 which meant that she had to see him every single day even though the last thing she wanted after that was to meet him again.
Thus came the agonizing days when she struggled with her sense of rejection, her first true sense of rejection and it bit into her soul like no other. It was a weight, hanging from her heart, always threatening to pull it ever lower and lower until it would sink into a pit and be swallowed up by the ground.
It became almost unbearably awkward to socialize with them for they we're fond of play wrestling and she could not touch him nor go very near him. Thus she sat back a lot, alone in the midst of laughing friends. The loneliness creeped in then, properly as loneliness made it's way up the front porch in preparation for a formal introduction after which she would be irrevocably well acquainted with it.
The three months trying to forget him went by in a haze of feeling left out and awkward and depressed and heavy-hearted and pouring her woes out to anyone who would listen. Usually to the same people. It tore at her heart but the tears could not come for she was no normal teenage girl who could practically bawl on command. The springs of her tears had dried up one day suddenly some time ago and it took art and a lot of coaxing to get them flowing again. All sorrow just became dead weight within instead of being washed out by cool, cleansing tears.
When she heard that he was pursuing another, a more glamorously dressed, typically pretty girl doing medicine, what progress she made in forgetting the fiasco was pushed back and her personal insecurities pushed instead to the forefront. It was probably the first time she realised she even had them when it came to the inexplicably confusing world of dating. She felt passed over for not being good enough. And it gnawed at her consciousness for some time before she finally cried all about it to her father; an incredibly unlikely choice, finally expressing her doubts, her inadequacy at the fact that the girl was not only the perfect girl for him but the perfect daughter for them. But it was not for naught, for the next week, after kind reassuring words, she went back to the city and found that she no longer felt anything for him. She felt free and cleansed of it in its entirety and the lightness meant she could breathe again. That day Missy learned that all she needed to heal that wound was to accept herself and to know that she was accepted. So after a total of nine months, the chapter closed on that boy and Missy's father would forever after that be phobic of her having any affections for anyone, probably on the off chance that she might be rejected and broken hearted again.
The next boy was a passing, fleeting experience. He was simply a musician in a band she fronted and she developed a liking for him. A mild, fluttering liking. It was nothing like the deep, crushing affection she had for the previous one. However it was not to be as well for she was not his type at all. She was colourful and loud whereas he preferred a much simpler girl. And so that one passed like a blip on the radar. And was never much considered neither did it affect her much.
Years came and went, Missy had many adventures in the city. Wild, thrilling adventures. Travelling the city in the early hours of the morning, adventures that went on all night and well into the rising of the morning sun. Seasons came and went and as all things in this world, she too changed just as everything does. Something about growing up, it makes one lose one's zest for life sometimes. It takes the magic out of some things, and they never come back. Without knowing it, day by day, hour by hour, month by month, we lose the spark that use to ignite flames of passion or excitement in us in the past. Temperaments cool and mentalities mature. And Missy grew up. Slowly, surely, she grew and developed as a person even when she wasn't looking. She would sometimes sit and look back at all the changes that have occurred and marvel at it all. Over the years since she went to the city, she stopped writing. And the words just didn't flow as frequently nor did she spend very much thought on them any more or hastily pick up a pen and paper to note them down when she did get them at all. There were other more distracting things that occupied her, and she very willingly relinquished her proclivity to write for the excitement of socialising and a perceivedly better habit of not dwelling in thought for too long. Somewhere along the line, she also have up on the dream she had carried in her bosom for so many years. No one knows exactly when she did, only that she did; one day at a time as it inched from her grasp until she finally let it slip free and vanish into the ether, remaining only as thin wisps in her heart and mind.
Then came the one. That one, rather. That one that would make such a big difference in Missy's life that she would never be the same ever again. He was a simple boy. Younger than she. Tall with a shock of long, dark wavy hair and large doe-like eyes rimmed by thick dark lashes. And he took his time in entering her life even though she had known him for some time. But when he finally did, he shook foundations that reverberated through the rest of her world. He was a gentle boy; gentle and kind in spirit and soul and good natured except with a tendency to lash out in particularly strenuous situations by punching walls and solid objects. But he made her feel like the world was made of flowers and sunshine and suddenly everything seemed so much better.
It took a few months before Missy suddenly realised that it was strange what she was feeling for him. Nothing like the shallow albeit distressing crush she had on the other boy. Nothing that she had ever known before. This one felt different, like it originated from a different place within her heart. Warmer, subtler but more insistent somehow in a soft, coaxing way. The Lord knows how Missy finally managed to connect the dots and realized that she had fallen in love with him. Not a fleeting albeit agonizing crush. She was in love with this boy. But he was forbidden to her in every single way, or so she thought and thus she held back.
But the way love is, it sometimes works hard to find its way and somehow, against many many odds, she and him started down a lovely path together. It was a harsh path, especially at first. He had an ex girlfriend he had to deal with which he did poorly but she stood by him patiently while he fumbled and failed to handle the situation effectively. He was a coward you see. One of his fatal flaws. He did not know how to and was too scared to do what most others would have done. Others marvelled at her willingness to stay by him while he let the issue drag on, causing multiple arguments between them and countless other problems and difficulties. But she loved him and somehow it was all worth it. Just to see him smile at her, hear his voice in conversation with her and feel him lying next to her at night. To breathe in his scent and feel the warmth of his embrace. Such simple things but they filled her with such joy, and such wonder.
He treated her like his Queen and she trusted him implicitly. There was never a doubt between the two that there would be anything the matter with their love. She could be herself with him. Completely herself the way she had never been able to be with anyone else. It was giddying and beautifully overwhelming at times.
You see, after some time and for some reason, Missy had decided that it was not alright to open up to people and to let them in much. Nobody cared she had decided, and so the mask hardened into a shell and calcified into an armour which she wore throughout the day and the night and never took off for anyone or anything. It was a transformation that happened slowly and thus escaped her notice and she thought nothing of it. But he tried hard and he worked hard to pry open that shell and learn more about the person inside. He saw through the armour and some part of him recognized the person inside it. A person with passions, and love and a warm, beating heart. And he worked hard to retrieve it. She found it strange at first what he was doing; how it mattered to him and it was all new and alien to her. But after a while she fell in with him and his work paid off. They would speak long into the night and all manner of secrets and stories and empathies would be shared between the two of them. But because of that armour, when she finally realised how much of it she seemed to have dropped for him, it drove her mind into a state of frenzy. A shock and a confusion that was not necessarily unpleasant but bewildering all the same. She did not know what to do with so much feelings. So much emotions. So much openness for someone. They were foreign and she had always told herself that they were bad. It felt like someone had injected a solvent into her and things were liquefying within her, beginning to slosh and jostle around and realigning themselves. The hardened mud surrounding everything seemed to have cracked and a warm golden liquid was making its devastating path down and through her entire being, flooding her soul and shaking the very foundations she had unconsciously placed her personality on. It was terrifying but somehow she could recognize it was good at the same time.
Love is a many splendoured thing. She was his queen and he her king for a long time. They fought many many times over the two years together, she threw many tantrums. But he had changed her as a person. And with him came a warmth from her that never before existed. A general habit of openness and of feeling. Of expression. They would often joke that he had found her heart and he would hide it away so it would be his forever and she could give it to no one else. Perhaps it was true that he had found it. She'd certainly recognized it's existence since then.
The next boy was a passing, fleeting experience. He was simply a musician in a band she fronted and she developed a liking for him. A mild, fluttering liking. It was nothing like the deep, crushing affection she had for the previous one. However it was not to be as well for she was not his type at all. She was colourful and loud whereas he preferred a much simpler girl. And so that one passed like a blip on the radar. And was never much considered neither did it affect her much.
Years came and went, Missy had many adventures in the city. Wild, thrilling adventures. Travelling the city in the early hours of the morning, adventures that went on all night and well into the rising of the morning sun. Seasons came and went and as all things in this world, she too changed just as everything does. Something about growing up, it makes one lose one's zest for life sometimes. It takes the magic out of some things, and they never come back. Without knowing it, day by day, hour by hour, month by month, we lose the spark that use to ignite flames of passion or excitement in us in the past. Temperaments cool and mentalities mature. And Missy grew up. Slowly, surely, she grew and developed as a person even when she wasn't looking. She would sometimes sit and look back at all the changes that have occurred and marvel at it all. Over the years since she went to the city, she stopped writing. And the words just didn't flow as frequently nor did she spend very much thought on them any more or hastily pick up a pen and paper to note them down when she did get them at all. There were other more distracting things that occupied her, and she very willingly relinquished her proclivity to write for the excitement of socialising and a perceivedly better habit of not dwelling in thought for too long. Somewhere along the line, she also have up on the dream she had carried in her bosom for so many years. No one knows exactly when she did, only that she did; one day at a time as it inched from her grasp until she finally let it slip free and vanish into the ether, remaining only as thin wisps in her heart and mind.
Then came the one. That one, rather. That one that would make such a big difference in Missy's life that she would never be the same ever again. He was a simple boy. Younger than she. Tall with a shock of long, dark wavy hair and large doe-like eyes rimmed by thick dark lashes. And he took his time in entering her life even though she had known him for some time. But when he finally did, he shook foundations that reverberated through the rest of her world. He was a gentle boy; gentle and kind in spirit and soul and good natured except with a tendency to lash out in particularly strenuous situations by punching walls and solid objects. But he made her feel like the world was made of flowers and sunshine and suddenly everything seemed so much better.
It took a few months before Missy suddenly realised that it was strange what she was feeling for him. Nothing like the shallow albeit distressing crush she had on the other boy. Nothing that she had ever known before. This one felt different, like it originated from a different place within her heart. Warmer, subtler but more insistent somehow in a soft, coaxing way. The Lord knows how Missy finally managed to connect the dots and realized that she had fallen in love with him. Not a fleeting albeit agonizing crush. She was in love with this boy. But he was forbidden to her in every single way, or so she thought and thus she held back.
But the way love is, it sometimes works hard to find its way and somehow, against many many odds, she and him started down a lovely path together. It was a harsh path, especially at first. He had an ex girlfriend he had to deal with which he did poorly but she stood by him patiently while he fumbled and failed to handle the situation effectively. He was a coward you see. One of his fatal flaws. He did not know how to and was too scared to do what most others would have done. Others marvelled at her willingness to stay by him while he let the issue drag on, causing multiple arguments between them and countless other problems and difficulties. But she loved him and somehow it was all worth it. Just to see him smile at her, hear his voice in conversation with her and feel him lying next to her at night. To breathe in his scent and feel the warmth of his embrace. Such simple things but they filled her with such joy, and such wonder.
He treated her like his Queen and she trusted him implicitly. There was never a doubt between the two that there would be anything the matter with their love. She could be herself with him. Completely herself the way she had never been able to be with anyone else. It was giddying and beautifully overwhelming at times.
You see, after some time and for some reason, Missy had decided that it was not alright to open up to people and to let them in much. Nobody cared she had decided, and so the mask hardened into a shell and calcified into an armour which she wore throughout the day and the night and never took off for anyone or anything. It was a transformation that happened slowly and thus escaped her notice and she thought nothing of it. But he tried hard and he worked hard to pry open that shell and learn more about the person inside. He saw through the armour and some part of him recognized the person inside it. A person with passions, and love and a warm, beating heart. And he worked hard to retrieve it. She found it strange at first what he was doing; how it mattered to him and it was all new and alien to her. But after a while she fell in with him and his work paid off. They would speak long into the night and all manner of secrets and stories and empathies would be shared between the two of them. But because of that armour, when she finally realised how much of it she seemed to have dropped for him, it drove her mind into a state of frenzy. A shock and a confusion that was not necessarily unpleasant but bewildering all the same. She did not know what to do with so much feelings. So much emotions. So much openness for someone. They were foreign and she had always told herself that they were bad. It felt like someone had injected a solvent into her and things were liquefying within her, beginning to slosh and jostle around and realigning themselves. The hardened mud surrounding everything seemed to have cracked and a warm golden liquid was making its devastating path down and through her entire being, flooding her soul and shaking the very foundations she had unconsciously placed her personality on. It was terrifying but somehow she could recognize it was good at the same time.
Love is a many splendoured thing. She was his queen and he her king for a long time. They fought many many times over the two years together, she threw many tantrums. But he had changed her as a person. And with him came a warmth from her that never before existed. A general habit of openness and of feeling. Of expression. They would often joke that he had found her heart and he would hide it away so it would be his forever and she could give it to no one else. Perhaps it was true that he had found it. She'd certainly recognized it's existence since then.
They say love is so significant that one would not fail to recognize it when meeting it's acquaintance. Missy certainly recognized it. It wasn't difficult. They felt to her like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that just fit together and clicked into place. Like they belonged together, two halves of a whole. It felt so right. They talked about it. Her parents would surely object due to his heritage and faith but she was ready to cut ties with her family if need be; she would choose him above all else.
But alas, little did she know it was not to last. A month after the two year mark of being together, circumstances and his personal shadows caused it to end and when it did, the bottom of the world she thought she'd always known suddenly dropped out from under her and Missy felt like she was falling endlessly through an abyss in a suffocating darkness that threatened to engulf and envelope her completely.
The days after the desolation were brutal and harsh. Almost everything would bring fresh tears to her eyes and she knew not how to carry on. Every night would be spent in long repetitive conversations with her friends as she first explored her feelings and recounted every moment she had spent with him throughout the two years. She knew not how to accept it; how to believe it had happened even. The crushing weight of all the broken promises and the heartbreak and disappointment threatened to snuff her very being out and she struggled daily with its weight. Making her way through the day felt like wading through mud; one step at a time, just trying to get from one moment to the next without keeling over. Sometimes the weight of holding it all up would crush her tiny spirit and Missy would just get so tired. So tired of trying to get over someone when she obviously couldn't and her heart obviously wasn't ready to. It was then that loneliness truly and finally made its way to her doorstep, rang the bell and she had answered it.
But alas, little did she know it was not to last. A month after the two year mark of being together, circumstances and his personal shadows caused it to end and when it did, the bottom of the world she thought she'd always known suddenly dropped out from under her and Missy felt like she was falling endlessly through an abyss in a suffocating darkness that threatened to engulf and envelope her completely.
The days after the desolation were brutal and harsh. Almost everything would bring fresh tears to her eyes and she knew not how to carry on. Every night would be spent in long repetitive conversations with her friends as she first explored her feelings and recounted every moment she had spent with him throughout the two years. She knew not how to accept it; how to believe it had happened even. The crushing weight of all the broken promises and the heartbreak and disappointment threatened to snuff her very being out and she struggled daily with its weight. Making her way through the day felt like wading through mud; one step at a time, just trying to get from one moment to the next without keeling over. Sometimes the weight of holding it all up would crush her tiny spirit and Missy would just get so tired. So tired of trying to get over someone when she obviously couldn't and her heart obviously wasn't ready to. It was then that loneliness truly and finally made its way to her doorstep, rang the bell and she had answered it.
Those were dark days that would have reverberating effects on Missy's life and person for a long long time, the extent of which is possibly even now yet to be determined.
At this point, life had come a long way for Missy and she had come a long way in life. Along the way, she had learned that some dreams must be given up and the humdrum of daily routine and the years somehow stamped it out of her and it was practically no more; existing only in the corners and vestiges of her mind, a memory of a burning passion and merely a mild lingering hope. He had been her new dream but it was over and she was left without.
Over the years Missy had made two friends, Mademoiselle and Material Girl and they would go on through life, trying to figure things out together.
The problem with Missy is that she was always one to take things too hard and too seriously. The months that passed after him were marked by grey skies and torrential downpours. After a while it seemed to Missy that she hadn't seen the sun in some time and possibly forgot what it's warmth felt like. For it was true he had taken her heart and hid it away. But instead of giving it back, he had ground it into dust and thrown it away. It was then that she knew true heartbreak. The wrenching pain that exists neither here nor there and gives everything in life a dim pallor and a bitter aftertaste. The weight that broke even the strongest man's back and the fell wind that snuffed out the light of even the brightest of candles.
The problem with Missy is that she was always one to take things too hard and too seriously. The months that passed after him were marked by grey skies and torrential downpours. After a while it seemed to Missy that she hadn't seen the sun in some time and possibly forgot what it's warmth felt like. For it was true he had taken her heart and hid it away. But instead of giving it back, he had ground it into dust and thrown it away. It was then that she knew true heartbreak. The wrenching pain that exists neither here nor there and gives everything in life a dim pallor and a bitter aftertaste. The weight that broke even the strongest man's back and the fell wind that snuffed out the light of even the brightest of candles.
It never occurred to Missy how much she had changed over the two years until some months after. Her acquaintance with loneliness meant that she now detested spending time alone and was always running from distraction to distraction, always trying to keep her mind from wandering into darker, emptier places. She had lost her solidarity and her comfort in it. And where she had been hopeful before that some day she would find her luck in love, she was hopeful no more. A bleak hopelessness set in for it had felt like a one in a lifetime love to Missy; perhaps it was. True or false, Missy lost all hope that she could ever find something like that again. It was a miracle the first time around and she doubted that lightning could strike twice. Particularly for someone as eccentric as she. Her confidence was in pieces and where once she was well put together, now she was a cracked frame, an empty shell, hollow and fragile and lined with fine fractures and all set to fall apart at the next blow. She was not so sure about herself anymore and in relation to that, not so sure about anything anymore.
The time passed in a mad internal rush to the next distraction and the next and before long it was time again for Missy to move up and out into the world. For she was bound for the United Kingdom; the path which would seem as if all in her life has led up to. As if all roads had conspired to bring her there regardless of how they looped and turned on their way.
He was part of her newer, brighter life in England, the next boy. And he made up a large part of the sunny months.
After some days of arriving, when the initial tears of disappointment at the broken dream (it had been their dream to study together in the west), had passed, She found that she no longer missed home. In fact she never did. Her initial discomfort and apprehension at leaving and arriving in the west was the result of being wrenched from her comfort zone. But after some time, she realized that she had been hiding back at home. Wrapped up in a tight and warm cocoon of her daily routine and hiding from the world, herself, from everything. And she no longer wanted to go back to the place where she hid. She wanted to stay. But since she saw no prospect also of her acquiring a permanent paying position there, she had nothing to look forward to. And thus for a while, all that existed was today. There was no tomorrow, no yesterday, only today. And it was so different although not entirely unpleasant. Missy found that a strange feeling. Like being uprooted and floating in the ether, disconnected and unanchored to anything. Directionless. But the momentary nature of her expectations also meant that she lived in the current time and thought less, wondered less, worried less. She was the happiest she had been in a long, long time.
The month of sun was bright and cheerful and full of hope; renewed and resurrected like a Phoenix from the ashes. She met him on her second night there and he pursued her, every single day, with persistence and tact and before too long, she found that he had helped her to let go of her previous love. She was ok now. For the first time in a long time, she was ok. It didn't hurt anymore.
She fell fond of him quickly. Too quickly some would say. Far too quickly. And it was brief but it brought much joy and sunshine to her days. Looking forward to his visits and basking in the golden glow of his attention for her. But as they say, love grows old and waxes cold, and it was never a forever kind of love. It wasn't even love. He got to know her and lost interest and the rest, they say, is history. It ended and left her shattered once again. For though they never did click like two puzzle pieces, she was fond of him. And Missy is the loyal kind of girl. The kind who would try harder, again and again to make it work once she'd started something with someone. But he had a fatal flaw and it proved to be their undoing. He absolutely could not and would not communicate and as she reached out he pulled away. Missy learned that day, from him and her last love, that words are not meant to be trusted. That a boy can say anything but when the time came, words, no matter how sincerely said, would count for absolutely naught.
It was not to be and like a vase that was shattered once and pieced carefully but haphazardly back together again, the second time it was shattered, Missy had no idea what do with the pieces that lay before her. It seemed harder this time around and she had not the energy to try.
Now it would do to explain exactly what an impact her first love had on her. Where she had been a solitary character, content with her own company with a tacit distrust of the efficacy and indeed usefulness of reaching out to the people around her, the trust and the bond of the relationship had opened up an avenue within her which now refused to close. In short, Missy shared more and was more emotionally free to the people within her circle in ways she never was before. She now had the habit, the need of reaching out to those, perhaps even to those whom she should not, in an effort to fill the gaping hole which he left behind. And the new habit of trust he began in her had much to do with it as well. All of those in itself would have been a tremendous, noticeable change were it not for the fact that where she used to love herself and every aspect of her, she now found she no longer did. In fact, she possibly even hated some aspects of herself now and had ceased to think very highly of herself. Her confidence had been trashed and she now began to doubt her own value as an individual on this Earth. That made it a phenomenal change. Almost as if she had been flipped the other way around. She was definitely not the same person anymore.
Her new habits and the second shattering resulted in her reaching out to her new friends in England for solidarity and comfort; for an assurance that she was not in it all alone. However, alas, unforseen to her, they began to pull away as well for the combination of her eccentricity and her sombre mood during the three days after the event was too much for them and they too left her outside in the cold for being a wet blanket.
It hit Missy like no words ever could explain. For aside from the month of sun, England had not been kind to the poor girl. There was something about the country. They say you find yourself when you go abroad and when you travel. You find new things to add to your soul and enrich it in ways staying somewhere without moving never can. Well there was something about England, it somehow inexplicably dug up every single issue Missy has ever had with herself and the world at large; things she'd very comfortably pushed away back home and easily forgot about, things that never even occurred to her, and dumped it all in heap at the forefront of her mind, forcing her for the first time to deal with it fully.
It was not to be and like a vase that was shattered once and pieced carefully but haphazardly back together again, the second time it was shattered, Missy had no idea what do with the pieces that lay before her. It seemed harder this time around and she had not the energy to try.
Now it would do to explain exactly what an impact her first love had on her. Where she had been a solitary character, content with her own company with a tacit distrust of the efficacy and indeed usefulness of reaching out to the people around her, the trust and the bond of the relationship had opened up an avenue within her which now refused to close. In short, Missy shared more and was more emotionally free to the people within her circle in ways she never was before. She now had the habit, the need of reaching out to those, perhaps even to those whom she should not, in an effort to fill the gaping hole which he left behind. And the new habit of trust he began in her had much to do with it as well. All of those in itself would have been a tremendous, noticeable change were it not for the fact that where she used to love herself and every aspect of her, she now found she no longer did. In fact, she possibly even hated some aspects of herself now and had ceased to think very highly of herself. Her confidence had been trashed and she now began to doubt her own value as an individual on this Earth. That made it a phenomenal change. Almost as if she had been flipped the other way around. She was definitely not the same person anymore.
Her new habits and the second shattering resulted in her reaching out to her new friends in England for solidarity and comfort; for an assurance that she was not in it all alone. However, alas, unforseen to her, they began to pull away as well for the combination of her eccentricity and her sombre mood during the three days after the event was too much for them and they too left her outside in the cold for being a wet blanket.
It hit Missy like no words ever could explain. For aside from the month of sun, England had not been kind to the poor girl. There was something about the country. They say you find yourself when you go abroad and when you travel. You find new things to add to your soul and enrich it in ways staying somewhere without moving never can. Well there was something about England, it somehow inexplicably dug up every single issue Missy has ever had with herself and the world at large; things she'd very comfortably pushed away back home and easily forgot about, things that never even occurred to her, and dumped it all in heap at the forefront of her mind, forcing her for the first time to deal with it fully.
Now as far as overwhelming goes, that was pretty much good for it. For the first time in her life, Missy found herself thinking about and realizing things about herself she never did or had to before. Bad things. It never occurred to her she had that many problems until they all piled at her doorstep and began knocking like door to door carollers on days leading up to Christmas. It was shocking to say the least and left the poor girl reeling. For the first time in her life, she didn't know who she was. What she stood for, what her position on things were. She felt so lost, stranded in a wood where everything looked the same with an urgent need to reach it's edge but with no possible way of determining which direction to take and go. Every single adversity that had come along before this were bad, but at least through them all she had herself. She knew who she was. But she didn't anymore, not this time and it left her feeling more lost and hopeless than she ever did before.
It didn't take long in England for Missy to realize that she had indeed been a little girl. She was naive; a revelation that was hard to process at first as she had never been accused of naïveté before. But as the days rolled by, she had to admit that perhaps, just a little bit at least, she was naive. And it took a trip halfway around the world for her to finally realise that.
Looking back now at the past two years, it was true. She was a little girl then. Hopeful, ambitious, confident, self-content, drunk on the ideals and opportunities of life and yet eccentric and distrustful of others with the care of her heart. But naive. Now she was much the same, just a decomposed version. Still eccentric, but not much else. It was as if the past two years had sucked the life out of her and burst the balloon of her hopes and dreams. She was a more tired version, older and wiser perhaps but much more tired. Of the intricacies of people and their relationships with each other, and of needing it for herself.
She met him the same night she met the other one. The one who spoke to her first and brought her in to meet his friends, which included the boy who made up her months of sun. He was dark and sarcastic with a mean streak and an imperturbable honesty which he flung around like a baton, lashing out at those around him. He was sharp and bitter and dark like Ebony dipped in bile. And wonderfully eccentric.
Missy did not know what it was that drew her towards him, it couldn't just be his looks, neither did she know at first that she was drawn towards him. When his friend made his move she forgot all about him but somehow in the deeper recesses of the mind he still held some of her interest, resulting thus in subtle reactions like a momentary flash of excitement should he join them anywhere. So subtle even she didn't notice them.
But he was dark and her limited conversations with him were twisted and confusing. They were a myre of mockery and criticisms and thinly veiled bitterness guised in the form of eloquent banter. He told her unequivocally how naive and innocent she was and she didn't believe him at first but he persisted with his opinion.
It was not until after the month of sun had turned into rain and clouds and thunderstorms that he suddenly one day made his move on her. A move that surprised her greatly for she had long discounted the idea that he had any interest whatsoever in her. It also made her realize quite unfortunately that she had great interest in him all along and now that she saw it, she could not unsee it.
But alas, it too was not meant to be. She discovered that he was that way due to a heartbreak very much similar if not identical to the one she suffered earlier and had decided to shut the door on the world. He was too dark, too bitter and as much as any maiden would like to think she could save someone from their own darkness, Missy's good sense knew that there were some things that one can never save another from; and one of those things is themselves. It was hopeless to try or even consider trying and so she made the hope fade and forced herself to stop entertaining silly, foolish notions of a boy who could only break her heart again.
It was perhaps subtle but the combination of everything tired her out so. Missy looked back at the years before when her journey started and realized that she had indeed been a little girl. Innocent and young and naive and idealistic. She may not have thought she was ever those things, but she saw now that she indeed was. Slightly wiser and a few years older now, she sat on a low brick hedge in the bitter cold of the oncoming winter with a stick and looked back at the foolishness of her idealism; marvelling at how ignorant she had been, of her own naïveté, and in awe and wonder at how three months in god forsaken England had changed her so completely and managed to turn her upside down and inside out. She was jaded now. And where the world had seemed so big and full of opportunity before, rising up the ranks of how far she could go out into it, suddenly from where she stood, it didn't feel so big anymore. It was like the world shrank when she wasn't looking.
She learned a lot in those three months. Namely that the world was a much more confusing place than she had anticipated. And she herself was much more unfathomable even to herself than she had thought she was. That sometimes one can try with all of one's might but it just won't work out. That it doesn't do anyone any good to care much about what people think about you. Because sometimes you can't help it and the more you care the unhappier you will be. That people are generally unreliable and the hurt in the world can come from anywhere, even from yourself.
The dark boy left an effect on Missy as well. After him, she realised that she had given up. Given up on all love and all hope that love would come around. She had spent years, loved every wrong kind of love and now she was tired. Tired of hoping and thinking that maybe it could happen. It couldn't happen, and she wasn't about to wait around anymore. 2013 had been a terribly painful year, full of broken dreams and smashing hearts and hopes. Yet also full of very important lessons. They were harsh and they hurt but such are lessons. Some just hurt and that's the way they are. It was her learning curve, a vast amount of learning compacted into the time span of 525,600 minutes and they haven't been kind to her but they have taught her much in the time spent. Something clicked within her and suddenly it seemed as if all patience seeped out of her, leaving an empty hostile shell of bitterness and hopelessness. She could be happy or have some semblance of happiness without that which all humans yearn for. How hard could it be after all, in this age of loneliness that we have carved out for ourselves.
But it would seem that fate had absolutely no regard for her decision at all. Over the years, Missy had given up on those of her own race; knowing that it would only lead to unrequited affections. She had never been and probably never would be what they are looking for and she accepted that and discounted them from her considerations. But the next boy was one of her own kind, and the first one in over three years to draw her attention to her absolute chagrin. For Missy had thought that at the very least, she was over with such foolhardy pursuits. But no, fate had other plans. She still remembered the first time she met him.
It had always been a point of wonder for her how some people can mean absolutely nothing at the first meeting but grow to mean so much eventually. He was just a passing note at best when she first met his acquaintance. She could barely have been bothered to remember his name, it being so similar to another's. All she remembered was that he was tall and willowy and friendly. He smiled, introduced himself and invited her to join them that night but she politely ignored the statement, not wanting to have to turn someone down expressly. And just like that, he was gone from her conscious notice, like a leaf blown away by the wind.
It would be a matter of great confusion and of strange wonder how she started talking to him as to a friend more than an acquaintance. But when the boy who made up her month of sun went away, leaving only shadow in his wake, for some strange reason unknown even to herself, she turned to him for conversation and it was he who was subject to the various contemplative expressions she had to share. He gave her kindness when there was none, and he was good to her when no one else was. And for a long time after that, she would feel a deep gratitude towards him and a desire to remain on amicable terms with him.
But it was not to be as well, as Missy can and could have predicted from the start. He was a hurricane and a tempest. A conundrum and a tumultuous brew of implosive emotions and contradictions. He was a mystery unto others and perhaps even unto himself. She could sense somewhere deep inside, a suppressed unhappiness with the path planned out for his life. For he was one who had to be free. To do all he wanted to do and to go where he wanted to go, bound to no one and nothing but himself. Perhaps his sense of dissatisfaction came from the weight of obligation on his shoulders, perhaps his desire to break free a reflection of his own sense of inescapable responsibility. But in this life he could find no meaning and perhaps thus, an emptiness resided somewhere within him. He was always in a frantic race to accomplish all that he would before returning home to settle in his duties. And he had a fascination for new people because perhaps they represented a break from the life he so wished could be different.
Missy could only sit and watch as it all unravelled. All efforts she made slipped like water through her fingers. He offended with the ease of a bird taking to air and was prone to violent mood swings. One moment he would be as bright and sunny as she remembered him and the next sullen and petulant like a five year old. She did not know what to do. And when he turned against her, she felt the full force of his animosity gusting like a chilly northern wind. Something changed when she wasn't looking. But he suddenly pulled away from her and developed a dislike for her character. It excaped her understanding and hurt her shrivelled, battered heart how someone could be so appreciative of her personality one day and develope a complete dislike for it the next. It represented another blow to her already crumbled faith in friendships and people. But so it had to be, and so it was.
His change of direction gave her whiplash and with that so did her regard for him fall from great heights, to abysmal depths. To lose respect for someone is in no way a pleasant experience. One would not generally think so but it takes something away from both parties; the one who lost someone's respect, and the one who lost his or her respect for someone for having good regard for another is a fulfilling experience somewhat and gives a more pleasant feeling than having that regard just exiting through the doors one day and never coming back.
With the closing of the previous year, Missy had thought that her extreme learning curve was coming to and end but it would seem not. Perhaps it was gradually evening out but she was still in the meantime being battered with difficult pills to swallow. Perhaps there was a point to it all, to all these lessons she had been bombarded with so far; to her acquaintances with despair, loneliness and doubt. Perhaps there was a reason and a purpose which would make it all worthwhile. But for the mean time, Missy had no idea what it was or what it could be.
No comments:
Post a Comment