Moments Lost In The frivolity Of Days
Some days are so difficult to subsist, it is just impossible to fathom them as one day and not some decades stringed together with a thread of your memories. They age you better than your birthday. They don’t necessarily start off with you being younger, sometimes you wake up old and dull and are painted brighter and better as the light in the sky with each passing moment. And sometimes you wouldn’t even know that you’ll live a century worth of life in the day, this day. It won’t matter if you became a raging dog in the evening because of something that ticked you off in the afternoon. Because this anger would set apart another year in your day, another you in your life, another soul in your heart. And yes, this one time, when a certain fragrance that you smelled off your fresh-off-the-boat nail paint would take you back to your childhood; and it won’t matter if you could name this fragrance or pin point that exact moment that made you memorize this odour because the fact that even after the things are changed (for good, and for bad), even after your growing up reaction is chemical and irreversible, some things and some moments could take you back to your old self , that not all is lost, and that no matter what, you will always be that person you were 10 years back and no other person could give or take that back from you. Its yours. Yours to cherish. Yours to loathe. Yours to fear. Yours to laugh about. Yours to smile for. Yours to cry over. Yours to hide. Yours to share. This coming back of a long-lost-tender-hair-in-your-nose-that-apparently-is-causing-you-to-smell-your-childhood-in-a-nail-paint is quite similar to finding a song that you once loved so much that the lyrics are still imprinted in your memory just as fresh and it becomes impossible to not lip sync. And it just becomes completely another day because you’ve forgotten how to feel like a child anymore so its a foreign feeling in your body altogether. A feeling that was once your very own so you need time, a day. A day that you don’t have to yourself, after all you have French to learn, TV to watch, hours to sleep, book to read, chores to help mom.. You don’t have time to feel any younger. So you do what’s best — you tell yourself “some other day” and that’s what it becomes, Another Day, off course. But you will find this day undone, because you can’t stand the blank wall that you’ve been planning to paint from past 2 weeks and been procrastinating to hell knows when. So you stop to think to stop thinking. Because you know why you were putting it off, it was about planning it out, setting the boundaries, finding the perfect layout, sketching it out first and basically thinking about it that you didn’t think you had the time for. So you stop thinking and pick up the best set of colours with your eyes closed, and finger pointing out. You didn’t think if this is going to be a disaster because quite frankly you want to destroy something. So you destroy, you abuse every thin black branch of the tree that you protracted on the wall, you burst every petite white star in the background, you forced the trunk down your bedpost and you destroyed your procrastinating self. The tree won’t look real. Because its not real. Its far from real. Its branches.. They are your thoughts, tangled within each other, each tendril your emotion curling up upon themselves. But they are not real because you didn’t create them with your consciousness, remember? you stopped thinking! They are a figment of your imagination and now your wall. It won’t look beautiful in the least, once its done… Its your thoughts after all; unreal, un-thought-for thoughts that you forbid yourself to have. And then the day will be complete, with your wall. And it would become impossible for you to imagine your room any other way, just like it would be impossible for you to imagine yourself without this day. Because the moment that you thought that your wall had to be painted, the tree was there, the branches sprouting out , off course it was all in your head but this day, this day was all that it took for you to pick up the paint. Just like this day was there when you first smelled that smell in your childhood that you now can’t remember going back to. Those are the days that are impossible to get by because all you want is to not feel any of these things. Because you don’t know how are you ever going to wake up after you’ve lived quite your life already. You are not sure you want to wake up after that. Of course some people don’t find anything grand in this day, but then does it have to be anything necessarily grand to live a day like your life?