Here I am,
in which the content of it coming from
an artistic explosion of an artist,
before the reality hits heavy and feeling like
there may not be a recovery from...
I have moved to Sweden 3 years ago
and ever since I have been processing that
shift in my life. Such dramatic change can
cause a breaking point in one's life...
And at a certain point, it felt as if
my limbs were cut and
I didn't know how to move anymore.
I lost identity;
words started to not mean a thing;
Suddenly, there were no friends,
family, familiarity...
The sounds of the city, the smell of your room,
tastes of the food, your skin and your hair are different with the weather;
all changed and you have to deal with all,
all by yourself.
You lose the the most basic senses of safety and security in life: no safe spaces for you and then,
restlesness takes over your moments...
And on the other hand,
you have an obligation to survive in life;
no room for failing to do so...
There is a difference between independency and lonliness: feelings of being left out
and the stakes being high for you.
Starting from zero means,
you are zero now.
All the past experiences are now
an invalid input for your brain, for it to be
able to generate an experience of living.
In other words, your brain fails to make a meaningful perception of the environment.
But you learn, 'you adapt...' they say,
and maybe you do so...
But the process is heavy, turbulant and
there's no guarantee that you're going
to make it out to the other side of the tunnel.
You go blindly and just go.
And so I did.
You can grab on to a very very small amount of hope even; hoping it would carry you to the end;
an end which you cannot see being there even...
I went all this way up until this point.
I thought,
I lost my joy in life. At simplest, I stopped enjoying my favorite food, didn't want to watch a movie or the music I was listening to was just passing through my ears. I found myself, not even having a small smile during the day, for almost a week sometimes.
And so I thought, I need to restart all over again.
I befriended my joy and tried to build a relationship with, all over again...
& I thought,
I lost hope in life. The next day didn't matter and it was simply no tomorrow. Time blended into a mud of the present that I was in. I was trapped in the present moment, somedays the time wouldn't pass. I stopped paying any small attention to what day of the week it was, what time of the day even...
&
I thought,
I lost my heart.
Most days I was cold, out of touch and reach.
My face was a stone, mimicless.
I turned to be an ignorant, didn't care at all.
I didn't have even the smallest of dreams that one could have...
I didn't feel any warmth.
I was sure that the world was just a cold place
and not anything more than that.
I was sure that if I put my hand over my chest,
I wouldn't hear a heartbeat.
But it was there. I was still alive and I wanted to hear the rythme of it. I wanted to sing along,
so I started to mumble before being able to sing.
And with frictions caused by the movement;
little by little, I could feel less cold.
My dear heart befriended me.
I went all this way up until this point and
I am friends with myself.
I can sing and smile again.
I celebrate the colors, curiosity and being alive.
I went all this way up until this point.
I thought,
I lost my joy in life. At simplest, I stopped enjoying my favorite food, didn't want to watch a movie or the music I was listening to was just passing through my ears. I found myself, not even having a small smile during the day, for almost a week sometimes.
And so I thought, I need to restart all over again.
I befriended my joy and tried to build a relationship with, all over again...
& I thought,
I lost hope in life. The next day didn't matter and it was simply no tomorrow. Time blended into a mud of the present that I was in. I was trapped in the present moment, somedays the time wouldn't pass. I stopped paying any small attention to what day of the week it was, what time of the day even...
&
I thought,
I lost my heart.
Most days I was cold, out of touch and reach.
My face was a stone, mimicless.
I turned to be an ignorant, didn't care at all.
I didn't have even the smallest of dreams that one could have...
I didn't feel any warmth.
I was sure that the world was just a cold place
and not anything more than that.
I was sure that if I put my hand over my chest,
I wouldn't hear a heartbeat.
But it was there. I was still alive and I wanted to hear the rythme of it. I wanted to sing along,
so I started to mumble before being able to sing.
And with frictions caused by the movement;
little by little, I could feel less cold.
My dear heart befriended me.
I went all this way up until this point and
I am friends with myself.
I can sing and smile again.
I celebrate the colors, curiosity and being alive.
Here is this artistic explosion,
is a celebration.
YOU ARE READING
Joy, Hope & Heart
Non-FictionHere I am, in which the content of it coming from an artistic explosion of an artist, before the reality hits heavy and feeling like there may not be a recovery from...