They say the toughest battles are the ones raging within. In your heart, in your mind. There is no enemy who knows you better than yourself.
Every strength that you possess, the "you" within knows how to counter. Every weakness he has observed since your first conscious days, he exploits. He knows that argument before you have completed forming it, and he will break it down piece by piece, leaving your hopes and dreams without foundations, or worse, in utter tatters.
We are such conflicted beings. I guess one of the main things which set us all apart from each other is the way we handle this internal conflict.
Do we shove them into a little corner of our minds and act on impulse? Do we fight it out in a long protracted battle? Do we always give in? Is there a formula? A set of steps for each category of things? A limit imposed? A threshold to be met for certain decisions?
One thing's for sure. We are all messed-up, little conflicted freaks.
She wakes up in a sudden panic.
Trying to remember memories lost.
Grasping with the claws and tendrils of her mind, pained and tortured as it is.
Only having a pained and tortured heart for company.
One by one, they are leaving her.
The people in the memories were gone, but she always had her memories.
And now, she only has the yearning, the longing, for those things which she no longer remembers.
What was it?
What was there?
Who was in it?
She knew they were important, she just does not remember, at all.
She lay in her bed, sweat beading her face and neck.
The sun was seeping through the blinds, but all she saw was dread.
She looked to the door, this is when he would normally walk in.
With a worried look on his face.
Surely he would have heard her cry?
Then a single memory came back to her.
He is lost to her.
Yiruma's notes were flowing through my fingers. Red and blue and green. Then a texture came to my head. And I saw your fingers.
I remembered how they felt in my hands, as you held on to my little fingers when we crossed the road. They were rough, hard. They were big.
I remember the last few months I had with you, when I held to your hands when you got in or out of the car. They were soft, they were paper-y. They were still big.
And they were always warm.
I miss you, Grandpa. I wish you were still here with me. I still get days when I wake up not believing that you are gone forever. Times like this I lie to myself and say that there is an afterlife, just so I can see you again.
The currents were getting stronger as he approached the middle of the river.
The bank he had just left. Well, there were still those men there. They were still in maniacal motion, hysterics. They tried to kill him when he refused to take it. That was when he jumped.
They wanted him to pocket the sweet. Sweets had been banned in that land for the past 15 years, you see. Because, it makes people happy. Happiness, is forbidden now. It's bad. It makes us sin. Happiness makes humans giddy, giddiness reduces rationalisation. Irrational people are better off dead, or so they say. Regardless, the Lord bans happiness. Bottomline. That's what they say. Sane people just don't do that, sane people do not accept happiness. They don't laugh or smile. And sweets make people laugh. That is why it was banned.
But they, those men. They had arms that reach far and wide. They had the sweets. They promised all the sweets in the world, if he would only sign the crucial petition to stop people from wearing orange coloured things. He refused. His daughter loved orange coloured things. That was when they tried to kill him. That was when he jumped. That was when he started to swim to the forbidden land.
He finally stepped onto the opposite bank. He made a run for the trees. The grass here was not any greener, but the air, it sure was sweeter. And mysterious.
And then he heard the most frightening sound ever. It sent chills down his spine. He waited for the carnage that would normally follow. But nothing else came, except the continuous disturbing sound. He made a run for the source.
Up ahead in the clearing, for there was a beautiful clearing, was a solitary girl. She was-
She was laughing!
Preposterous! Where were the police? Why have they not shot her down? He had seen countless persons getting shot before, even for accidental giggles. But here, this most absurd creature, was laughing her head off!
He crept closer, as silent as ever. She might be dangerous.
And eyed him.
Oh my jewels. She broke another law.
Direct eye contact with the opposite sex.
Dear Lord, forgive me for my sins, he thought.
But he could not tear his eyes away like the obedient servant he thought he was.
Then she smiled.
He must have gone crazy and is hallucinating now.
She opens her mouth.
He has not seen lips move in a very, very long time.
Hello, who might you be, stranger?
But he has forgotten how to.
How does one speak?
He has forgotten how to use his tongue to form words.
Speaking was dangerous.
At least, it was in the land he had just swam away from.