ORIGIN: Shipwreckers ride waves. Mourners flock to the shore. A perfectly good mermaid song gone to waste. Conquerors ride elephants. The grass doesn’t grow back, but they don’t content themselves with that. Memories have to be uprooted from every heart that would mourn the loss. Silence should follow every song.
War elephants pave the way for conquest. Mermaid songs wreck ships. But there are no guarantees. Some grasses are more resilient than others, and not all songs rival hearts that haven’t forgotten how to beat true.
A part of me will always miss the sea. But I have never heard of homesickness riding an elephant to victory. I can’t picture it, and I would rather not try my luck. I have claimed this forest. It will be my new home. The mist will dissipate any moment now. I have already exhaled my last memory. My lungs are empty. My heart is still. These trees are a promise right now, but the mist won’t turn to fog. Soon, I will see them with clear eyes. For what they are. No longer a shade of the sea I have left behind. I will inhale something new. And I will lovingly call it home.
I had never laid eyes on a desert before. But I knew deep in my heart that the polar opposite of the sea where I was swimming my life away had to be somewhere out there. I couldn’t keep going like that. So, I drove a wave ashore. I closed my eyes and handed over the reins to my elephant. Because there was a time when I looked forward to the sunrise. To what tomorrow would bring. And I trusted my elephant to still remember what that felt like and take me there. Somewhere I could feel alive again. But this desert doesn’t speak to my heart. And now that we have left half the world in our wake, I finally know where I went wrong. Polar opposites are just more of the same icy wasteland.
Mermaids and elephants aren’t all that different. The sea might be my home, but my upper half craves open air. My skin goes all wrinkly if I stay too long underwater, and the sun has to kiss it better. Elephants have wrinkles too. But I remember a time when I was bursting at the seams. I was all lungs and hope. But I wanted more. I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I needed to paint the inside of my lungs cerulean blue. That’s why I climbed the highest mountain I could find, intend on breathing in the sky without spilling a single drop. But I had already become a fish out of water, and all I can do now is pray those clouds have a forgiving heart and their rain kisses everything better.
I know that waves and whales do their best, but it’s just not the same. I don’t have anything against the color white. Sea breezes feel nice on my skin, but it’s just a barely-there caress. I need something stronger. Something that lasts longer. That’s why I have claimed this cave for myself. It will be my grave. I will lie right there, under those stalactites. I will reach out. With more than just my arms. With all my heart. And I will wait. Forever if that is what it takes. With a smile still on my skull. Until the sky finally touches my bones. Until that stalactite tightens its grip and never lets me go.
Sleep. Hold this teddy bear close to your heart. Plug every star-shaped hole and don’t let dreamland spill out. But don’t forget that everything comes at a cost. Mermaids trade in their tails for pairs of shiny new legs. Listen to your heart. Don’t be afraid. There is always something dreamers like us are willing to sacrifice. What does your blood whisper in your ear in the dead of night?
I want to be the best. I don’t care if mountaintops are the loneliest places on earth. I don’t need friends to be happy. I would rather achieve something and feel fulfilled.
I am sick and tired of being afraid. Fear can’t be my lifelong companion. I want to sleep safe and soundly at night. Even if the price is loneliness and I have to tuck myself away at the ends of the earth.
I have come to learn that nothing is more heartbreaking than disappointment. It’s debilitating. I no longer have the strength to keep putting the pieces back together. I don’t need more promises in my life. I don’t need more expectations. From now on I just want to be a realist. With both feet on solid ground.
Words fall on deaf ears. It’s funny. I should have gotten used to it by now. But the echoes always come back to stab my heart. Hopelessness darkens my sight. And I just wish this were outer space. At least there people would have a credible excuse. But I know better than to ask for the moon. So just give me a heart as indifferent as everybody else’s ears.