Ah, there you are!
I saw you, stumbling your way around all over the place. Walking around with a steady foot, a trip and a tilt, here and there. A stumble that made your eyes go wide. A fall so hard, and so full of hurt that it clenched my heart. I saw you cry. I saw you give up. But as I watched, you got up, dusted yourself off, and walked again with a doubtful gait, with hesitation, but you walked, nonetheless. It was all you, I realized, and all I ever did was leave a mark on you every time you fell. Something small, something big, sometimes light, sometimes dark. Permanent, all over your body. Tattooed. That’s all I ever did, and that’s all I’ll ever do.
I watched you, smiling, yelling, mumbling, whispering, to your demons. You stood your ground, there were moments when you wavered, and you were so close to falling. I held my arms wide open to catch you but I knew I never could. And yet, you stood your ground, so strong and so full of determination, and I watched as you overcame, as you befriended the void, and that was where I could come into picture, the only ever time again, for I had to make an imprint all over you. Another impression, another layer, but just as bold and bright.
I noticed every thing that you did. Even if it broke your heart, I perceived it the way you did, trying to understand the hidden pages that were, most definitely, spilling out from you, even though it was invisible to the rest of the world. You went about blindly, listening, doing and doing and doing, till it was done. Of course I was there, tracing every single thing. Darkening all the lines. This time though, I had to smear it all over. What could I do, but watch your every move and colour in a masterpiece on your canvas?
There were times when all I wanted was to blotch a few spots, mark a few lines, smudge a few pockmarks, but I could not even try. If I did, then you would disappear. Completely.
I’d have to start all over again and frankly, I don’t very much enjoy that particular part, even though I’ve been doing it every single day, and will be, for the rest of eternity.
So what if there’s a huge colourless spot? All I have to do is wait for you to fill it in with whatever your mind and heart is set out to do.
What would the world do without you, a tattooed miracle?
Being human means you fall. It means you fail. It also means you hurt.
Being human also means you get back up, lick your wounds and start again.
Just a little positivity and food for thought.
Follow me on:
or E-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org
Share this post by using the buttons below!