There are people who are so painfully us. The same reflection of the golden melting honey in the eyes, the tone of the voice going ever so slightly up on the same part of the word, just enough to notice it. Their skin is also covered in tiny brown freckles and marks, like stars spilled over the deep blue summer night sky.
Some people are so painfully us. Their skin crawls when they hear the same song, their spine is invaded by the goosebumps. The sorrow and pain look the same on their face. The little shadows crossing their face as they turn their head and do their best to stop their voice from cracking.
Some people are so painfully us. They hug the pillow in the middle of the night in the same way, looking and longing for warmth and comfort. The streams on their cheeks resemble the creeks calmly flowing down the middle of a mountain range. They put one foot in front of the other in the same way, keeping the balance while the world is falling off of their shoulders.
Some people are so painfully us. Looking into their eyes is like looking in the mirror and fighting not to look away. Looking at the same wounds, the same cuts deep in the skin and the same scars. Wondering how is it possible for one soul to be divided into two bodies.
Some people are so painfully us. Making the same mistakes, lowering their voices when they should speak up, saying ‘I’m okay’ when they want to shout and yell and scream, putting others first when they are not even able to pick their own broken parts up, pouring from an almost empty glass.
Some people are so painfully us. We see ourselves in them and that’s why we get angry. We know they should do it differently. We know they shouldn’t stay quiet and calm. We know it isn’t fair. We know they should do the opposite. Still, it hurts and burns so much because we know we would do exactly the same if in that moment we would be in their skin and in their shoes. And we see the aftermath. We see where it is going. And yet, we cannot do anything about it…
Some people are painfully us. Sometimes because they gave us life. Sometimes because we are who they shaped us to be, according to what they think, know and feel life is and should be. Sometimes because they don’t know better.
And yet…unlearning what we have learned. Breaking the pieces and putting it together in a different way. Isn’t that what life is all about? Learning, unlearning, relearning. Breaking and putting back together. Losing the sight of the known and making the unknown home.
Learning, unlearning, relearning. Again and again and again.
Aurelia's Wreath 