Could time be defined as a dimension? Is it possible to escape it? Do we manage it in moments of complete happiness when we forget about it, or are we doomed to be beaten by it always – as it never lingers, no matter how desperately we are asking it to. Time builds and it destroys. Or is that us doing the building and the destroying as time is just there to watch and laugh at our naive illusion of control over anything.
We grow. In time. We grow and we become. We become more of what we used to fear in order to fear less. We become the people who used to scare us, so we won’t be scared of them anymore. Sometimes we secretly do it so others will fear us hopping we will not be scared of anything anymore but now the stranger in the mirror looks scarier than anything did before.
We name the people who keep the child in them alive, naive. We call the part of ourselves that’s overwhelmed with feelings, irrational. We judge it as others would. And after every trial we sentence it to death or imprisonment – let’s face it. You could never kill it! But you can lock it up and you will. – We torture ourselves in numerous ways to make them fit in a world that all of us admit is sick. Yet, we blindly try to look like we belong. Nobody belongs. We learn to fake belonging.
And what about our childhood dreams? And what about the boy who wanted to be a pilot but is now afraid to fly? And what about the girl who wanted to be a dancer but hated her body and never tried. And now she still does. And hides her thighs and never exposes her belly on the beach… And what about that other boy, who learnt to hide his feelings so well that people still think he has none. And every time he doesn’t cry, it rains somewhere in the world.
But he cries. Once a year. Only on a summer night. That night when the moon is red.
We never really change. We only adjust and learn to accept the unfairness around us. And only once in a.. red moon, we stop to wonder if any of it was ever worth it.
And on that night,
it never ever rains.