She wakes alone, stands alone, walks alone, eats alone, watches alone and all her days pass while still alone. And when the night dawns, she still goes to sleep alone but dreams and thoughts wouldn’t leave her on her own.
She is the girl who grew up known, always preferred Yvonne chakachaka’s to any other song. She saw the music she wrote very live in her eyes. The dream of one day being an iconic woman despite of all the struggles and even though each day’s ambitions rose so high.
Determined to get out of the stale hometown which never differentiated black from white, every day, as she walks by, men and women rumble and bow of how she is a different kind. A shade that reminds them of the embodiment of beauty, but silently she fears for the attention and the cruel people bestowed upon her city. Children lost in this life maze, while others beg with each wake. Every sunrise they work more than the prominent person we all seem to know about and look up to but who doesn’t know about us or what we’re up to.
She looks around and prays that with that twenty shilling coin, she would miraculously change the life of him who begged alone, as well dressed side walkers each not more alone than him, darted glass cutting glances as if he was a boil. A sore nuisance being born less normal than the average man, matters worse, poor and with no self-preservation than the wicker man. She ignores the world and always kept that child in her heart, for no matter how much she did not beg for attention, nor beauty nor affection, she still was begging for fruition. A chance was denied to be better than the last, but not one to make the world change further from the cruel past.
She had created the power love story which would set two souls as one and free as the flying birds. With herself playing the damsel in distress, the knight of ‘amour’ would rescue and whisk her away to lands she never thought existed or if that was too much, just a walk wherever they were hand in hand. She would be graceful and like a gypsy adorned in all shimmy and shiny jewelries, her beauty would always remain a flawed perfection to the king who would rule her dynasty. At night she was the queen who would strip down to just a hip hugging sultry dress and dance for her master for she was dudess. The fortress would then come alive, witnessing the affair she so played in mind was no longer blossoming in hide. Her eyes black in kohl would pierce his soul, reducing the iron man to a childish boy who would join and sync to her dance row. The night would fade away but the depth of love created with each rising morning would be greater than the legend of Heer and Sahiban, Romeo and Juliet, Bajirao Mastani, or Ram and Sita. Her knight would still be a villain in her beginning but ever the hero at her end. And as she sat alone creating and planning all the wish lists they would cross out one by one, forever together like those two words, she found relief in a thought that Soledad was also made before us against the world; henceforth assumed her knight was still searching for her in this vast earth.
Cloaked, the world tried to tune her into something feigned. Since riches were at arms bay and hard to grasp, when she pursued one source, what tapping to it meant losing, had her changing minds not at per with the changing times but beyond blurred lines, bouncing back to the lone self she always liked. Even though the next one tried to treat her better, his movie would not be a block buster, since he played too safe and no aura of mystery surrounded him which is what she thought was a must have, to change her status.
That was a little heart’s fiction. But now she was a little older and reality facing her she sought to fulfill all the hard work demanding dreams she still had lingering whenever she thought of completion. She slept thinking alongside famous minds but when she woke this was by far hindsight. She once thought that friends wouldn’t understand but she later realised that every one of them was so caught up in being better than the rest, so they wallowed alone in their own dreams and success. You would think she was egoistic for not reaching out but proven time and again she only thrived in her dotty love triad.
(Back to self).
And now in bed I lay again night after night of trying not to become “That girl” as Alysia Harris spoke, but still be the one to tick off my checklist of ambitions and wait for you woke. And so, I think and contemplate “What is my purpose? Who are you that I have to keep in mind what you would want, instead of reaching my focus? You taunt me, always tell me this and that is wrong, but you’re never there to hold, and then in my moments alone, I stumble upon a quote,
“To be in love, you got to have the passion to be in love and want to worship it.” Did you want me to see this? Is this your way of telling me to wait for you? Or is it my easy way out of wanting to see the cloudburst and sad days reign as I still search like a fool.
Yes, My answer from then becomes definite.
Set to invest and make myself better than the rest, and also not fail by committing a sin for my own gain, I lay all my plans below your feet and wish against wishes that you have a purpose for my existence as you see fit. Seated alone combining these letters I get a picture of a thousand words, that while I search for you, I should also be righteous than the last, that my heart should stay pure and I should also learn the essence of true love.
The picture shows reincarnated I would see God in you and thenceforth I plead that while I strive to not be alone and fill this void with the theory of you, in case you see me walking by the streets oblivious and given up hope; resolved to the conclusion that you exist not, brush your arm against mine, interlock yours with mine wandering eyes; and if I don’t recognize who you are, remind me just like sleeping beauty this only marks the end of my dotty love triangle. That me, myself and I would forever be replaced by HIM, you and us.