Whilst scrolling through my Facebook account, I saw this image and immediately felt drawn to it.
So, as we tend to do on these sites, I ‘shared’ it, adding the following comment/heading:
These words could be translated, and the sentence completed, in a number of ways including but not limited to the following:
(a) ….this is a lovely sentiment and I wanted to share it with you, my ‘Friends’ old and new, near and far.
(b) ….and we, the exclusive club of the twinkly innards on our cloud of serenity, compassion and self love are always blissfully aware of this. Maybe you too one day might find a glimmer within you and join us. Maybe.
(c) ….so listen up superficial arseholes, flash bastards, nouveau riche and spin masters, everyone might be fooled by your smoke and mirror show now, but if they had to find something of worth inside you, it would be like trying to find a sequin in a unlit sewer full of shit, and the day will come when you will know this only too well. In the meantime, I’ll just smile gently when I see you, look amused when you say something brash, allow myself a discreet little titter when you flash the cash, and leave you feeling like maybe I know a little something you don’t know. BOOM!
What did I mean by it? Probably all three to be honest, depending on who was reading it at the time.
But if I was being honest I would have wrote:
‘I really, really want to believe this.’
And I do. Because sometimes I do feel something within, a feeling that sometimes floods through me and makes me feel like my heart could burst with….stuff, good stuff, maybe even joy. But I tend to discount or dismiss it as I’m probably bi-polar (I’ve never allowed anyone to diagnose me properly) and I’m presumably having a bit of a high.
But what if it’s not? I sometimes fear that I’m being eaten from the inside and when the darkness sets all there’ll be is the heat and smell of burning pitch, roasting flesh and crumbling bones, and when I realise I’m my very own tar baby, I’ll be thankful, grateful when death takes me by the hand and smothers me into unconscious, ignorant bliss.
If I could wish for something, I would like to have just one tiny pane of glass, maybe blue, green or gold?
And if I looked after it, kept it clean, polished it, perhaps it will multiply, grow and then they’d spread out like jewel coloured snowflakes, and maybe part of me, inside or out, could one day shine just a little when the sun sets.
I have to believe this, otherwise what’s the point of anything?
For anyone who still celebrates Valentines Day, I wish you love, peace and happiness.
And if you pray, pray for me, ‘cos I’m not coping right now, the night awaits and I’m not allowed alcohol!!