This post is part of a 9-part guest blog series whose author wants to be known as J.J. Moore. I hope you enjoy it. :)
When you don’t have the will to get up from your bed in the morning, when you don’t have the strength to keep fighting for breath, yet you get up anyway, you are a silent kind of magic. You go to work, go to school or go through the motions of the day, keeping it together enough to fool everyone into thinking that you actually have it all together, that’s the work of a different breed of hero.
After a night of holding a funeral for yourself, the first thing you do when you wake up and manage to get out of bed is to wash off the tears. You are breaking apart, and that’s okay. Breaking is okay as long as you are cracking open for all the sewerage, all the shit to seep out of your system.
Unreciprocated love. When we think of it we think of outright rejection. But rejection wears many colours and owns many faces. There are many reasons for wanting to wake up but feeling incapable of rising and chief among them is feeling unwanted. To spill your spirit into the universe of another soul, to love so incorrigibly and with such fire that it is impossible to hide your glow, only to find out you were never enough for the person you became fire for, is a mesmerizing shade of death. Sometimes it isn’t that she does not actually love you, it’s just that you’re both loving in different planes. It’s all love but it means different things to you both.
To her lilac is flower, to you it is colour. To her lilac is flower, because all the beauty she can see she must touch. For you beauty is in more than what you can see and touch. You can feel beauty and the strength it wields. It pours into death, life. For you lilac is colour because it gives meaning to the flower. Yes, maybe lilac the flower came before lilac the colour. But did not Adam come before Eve? And yet without Eve Adam would be naught but a wilting flower. Eve is colour and flower all at once, and she chooses what to give. Man cannot wholly feel beauty without woman, her love is lilac. What would man do without the touch that fills him with colour, without woman? Colour is powerful because colour is from God. What man can survive life without the gift of colour? Without the fragrance of flowers?
-J. J. Moore