I have been forced to confront innate truths about myself this year. Truths that warp themselves around your soul and leave you afraid, because they are true, afraid because they were only vague thoughts floating around in your vast nothingness but now you have to confront them and live them.
I will never be an anthropologist. I am tired. Life is hard. Life is especially hard because the people supposed to show us the way, to teach us are causing genocides or Tom and Jerrying with their rivals. Fees are high. Work is rare. I am not perfect and I fear I will never be. Year 23 of not realising any of my year’s resolutions. I have writer’s block. I haven’t read as much as I used to this year.
My Aunt Mary asks me to tell her what is on my mind almost everyday.
“Everything! Everything Aunt. I am tired of this place and I am ashamed of my shame and I am afraid of my fears. I am afraid I will never grow. I am at the precipice of everything and all the little fissures are starting to show and the pressure of plugging them is taking its toll on me.”
But I do not tell her that.
I stare off into the tan majesty of her living room, and the larger than life epoch in its center; a 4 foot peacock statue, reclining on a tasteful dais, haloed in a tasteful glow.He is a grand old thing that peacock, a haughty arrogance as it flares its plumed behind in all of its iridescent beauty.
I find myself talking to him easily. He’s not judgmental at all to be honest.
“Yo Feathers,what’s with the world man? Do you even know anything about stress? Why is it that the wicked get the money and the righteous perish? why do I keep making mistakes yet I try so hard? Do you know? What do we do that is good and straightforward that is still rewarding? Am I ugly? Is life supposed to be this hard?”
The monstrosity mostly quirks his eyebrow but he doesn’t answer.
“TELL ME? WHY?” I cry, riled to the bone, unreasonably furious at a sculpture.
“Alright, you nonsensical creature, calm your hysterics” Sometimes I imagine if he could talk he’d say gravely in a dignified baritone,shaking his magnificent tail as he comes to life
“You’re still trying to figure yourself out? are you not? You’re not mad but you are shedding. Like a snake.” here he’d smirk and adjust his crown.
“I wouldn’t be worried if I were you. You’ll figure it out. You’ll have some falls and you’ll pick yourself up, you’ll fail at somethings and you will realize that some dreams belong in your childhood. but if you are strong, and despite your foolish self pity you have an iron core, you’ll realize that you are where you are right now and that is perfect and wherever you get,you will be there and you will have to make peace with that.Do you get it?”
“In truth you know who to turn to for strength don’t you? stop wallowing in that mire you create for yourself and ask for help.” He’d say, parting shots as he hardens back into marble, nothing more than stone.