Boredom Ensues

Blink

(Based on a game called Before Your Eyes, a game I truly recommend to anyone who wishes to hear a beautiful story. Yet, also based on my thoughts, and my journey).

As a child, you're told that the world is wondrous, and that your journey will grow to become something brilliant. You're given the imagination of hundreds of ancestors as they tell their journeys to you, bringing life to their pasts as its reimagined in your mind. You're given the small details, the intricate patterns and swirls of hair and skin that your family pass like heirlooms and trinkets. You're given the words of their language, their terminology, their phrases of hope and loss. You grow, and become part of what they once were.

You then explore, starting young you go big. You see all you can after hearing all you've heard, wandering in wonder as the world glows in auras. Friends tell you their stories, their families and you learn of difference. You learn that your story is unlike any of theirs, and learn their stories to be vastly different to anyone else's. You remember them, whether by name or by story, and they shape you more, inspiring your steps to individuality, to community, and to prosperity. You take their details, their lessons they learnt, and share yours to them. You trade parts of pasts like cards in decks, helping spread the great journey as you grow.

You reach a new stage, a stage of confusion, of questioning. You hear the contradictions of the stories you once heard many years ago. You learn the hardships, the failures, the pain that can come when growing old. You face the challenges, each one a boulder trying to knock you off your feet. You watch as many fall, collapsing into doubt and dread, some too far than others... You experience these falls, learning how strong life demands your mind and body to be. You try to keep up with everything you were once told, but your mind is just too worn. You want to hear everyone, see everyone, grow like everyone. However, the bruises and cuts that happened cause too much damage to you. You can't keep yourself together whilst spreading yourself so thin.

So you change, you alter in unique ways, adapting your skin and bones. You shape yourself into specificity, into unique forms and structures. You take on skills unknown to your friends and peers, showing them your own passions, your own feelings. You write, you sing, you play, you create, you laugh, you act, you develop, you grow. Your body grows with you, your mind strengthening after the pain, becoming better, smarter, braver in areas that many might never understand. Yet you do. You know these unique traits, these unique skills, you have learnt them in ways no one else has. You grow, teaching others of your findings, of your art, of your work, and help them see, even if they never know. You grow into your new journey, a journey of individualism.

You develop. You put everything you know to use, trying, retrying, and powering through the challenges of this new part of life. You face deadlines, time limits, crashes, desperation, and near-misses. You mould yourself into newer, stronger ways. You learn more of those in the far past, the paintings and pictures of faces whose stories have long since passed. Yet they smile upon you, their names and words in languages and terminologies families have long since forgotten. You take their lessons, their lives, and add them to yours. You inspire yourself as you read, as you look, as you listen, as you taste and smell and feel them around you. You sense their presence as you put their lives back into motion. You watch them as they watch you learn and teach, helping others forward their stories and words as though they were your own. You help children, pets, families, friends, everyone grow. They smile upon you, as you grow now older. They watch as they hear your words, see your art, read your writing, taste your culture. You watch their faces beam as they learn, as they memorise all that you once had.

You grow old, weary, your skin loose and your body drifting. You feel yourself struggle, yet the pain is not as horrible as it once was those years and years ago. You understand more, respect more, and learn the last lessons that very few could ever teach. You try to spread your wisdom to others, just like your elders once tried to young you. Yet their innocent eyes and ears do not understand yet. They must grow, like you have, to witness what the journey truly is. They look puzzled, but faithful, trusting your judgement and hoping to do right. You feel your voice grow tired, finally quiet after all your teaching, all your learnings, all your hopes and desires as they escape your dry lips. You reach out to the few left that remember you and your journey. You look up, remembering your peers, your family, the friends that could not see your finale. You feel their presence lift you, your chest raising one last time. The smile grows on your weary face as you finally let yourself rest, the monotonous tone of what lies ahead resting in your ears. The whispers and tears of those you kept happy for so long finally loosening. You feel the final clutch of your hand as you loosen your grip.

You drift, yet your name - your memories - do not.

They tell of your stories, of your lessons, spreading it far and wide to families you did not know existed, nor could you ever have known. They speak of your hardships, of your challenges that forged you to grow. They talk of your family, how they forged who you first became, and how you then changed into something they could never have guessed. They tell stories of your adaptations, of your rushes and slow-downs. They mention your wisdom, how you grew to learn all that could be learnt in a life as unique as yours.

They close their eyes as they recall the last moments. The wood buried, the ashes spread, the organs that now carry new life to others, the blood that treats. They remember your final words, your final pages of your final chapter, as you now watch over the hundreds affected by your words. They look up to you, even though you are not visible to them. They look you in the eyes, and they whisper gently "thank you" as they feel the warmth you once carried in their presence, before your body grew cold.

And they never forget, remembering the smile you gave them.

They never forget the words you spoke.

They will always remember your journey, even if your name is lost.

For that, is the journey we all must take.

A journey unlike any other.