Mendacity and Vulnerability. 

“The sun hid behind the clouds. It was a black and white kind of colourful day. My feet sweaty from nervousness and fright, and my palms, waiting to hold a freshly brewed cup of caffeine, waiting to kiss my escape, and play tongue with the taste of it.
There was no wind that day, but there was essence. The essence of heavy silence. The precedent of uncomfortable loose thoughts like threads from a torn cloth. An essence that always lingered like a question unanswered. 
My mind spoke to me, or did it?

Anyway,

The peculiarity of normal things is that no one talks about it and because no one talks about it, it’s normal.

Vulnerability, however, is pretty normal, yet not spoken about.

Considered a weakness, vulnerability is looked at with shadowed eyes of plastered strength. 

There is a demand to be stone. 

There is a demand to be concrete. 
“It is beautiful to be vulnerable” somebody once told me and I wondered,

if it would be beautiful for me to panic, with a terrible heart ache like when a spear is stuck inside it, and I can’t pull it out, 

if it would be beautiful to break down in the middle of the night while everyone around is dancing to music and your ravenous mind is waiting to devour you whole.

I wondered if it would be beautiful to tell someone that I’m insecure about my appearances, I know I shouldn’t be, I know I show I’m confident but I am.

I wondered if it would be beautiful if I woke up screaming from a nightmare almost every night because someone taught me to be afraid of the dark when I could barely understand what this world was about. 
I wondered if at all vulnerability was beautiful, and I realised it was. It was beautiful because it was like looking at somebody’s naked soul, nothing to hide, 

but the world does not the naked soul beautiful.

The world is in love with a thousand levels of mendacity, and here we are, 

hating the truth 

hating the fact that we as humans are, after all, vulnerable 
because, come on, 

aren’t we too?”

Alternate realities. 

There is a whiff speaking to me in tones of melancholy and shades of blee. I look to the sky to find an explanation to this beautiful paradox before my eyes, but the crimson sky cries blue to me.

I wonder whether I am in an alternate reality, a paradoxical world but I find myself wandering in the magic the sky emits through a thousand colours this sunset. 

The question almost fades from my mind, almost but I find my answer soon enough before it dies.

Paradoxes are the new reality. We choose to say something and do otherwise. We build a dream and live otherwise. We diverge from the lines we draw.

What is an alternate reality is that what does not fall into alignment of the structures of this rigid world, and it is alternate because it is rare, absurd and unusual.

-WANDERER // N o n C o n f o r m i t y

The understanding of Love.

Don’t sugarcoat love. It is not always the splendid feeling that gives you butterflies in the stomach. In fact, I don’t think it is the butterflies at all. I think love is the sanity that a person brings in your life and not the increase of a heartbeat, cold sweats and nervousness. I think Love is the ease in every sense that nestles in you.

Love is not the rainbow after a storm, sometimes it is the storm itself. It is the twig stuck in your foot that pricks while you walk and sometimes it is the pleasantly dull sky during summer. Love does not make you uncomfortable and uneasy, it is the essence of home, peace and content. It is not always exquisite and on some days the wind may blow stronger and make you stumble but that does not mean it isn’t true or strong. It simply implies that like humans love too is precarious, not in a bad way but it wavers.

It is like an ocean that on one side emits serenity and is the complete expression of perfection but on the other, it brews a colossal storm. It comes along with it challenges and demands of us a commitment. Love is a journey and you cannot make home on the way, but you have to take home along, wherever you go.

I think Love is strong, stronger than every other feeling, or theory that exists and I believe that Love prevails over everything. Love is meeting love and feeling a sense of comfort no other can give. It does not make you want to put up a facade of makeup or pretence, but it is the feeling that makes you tear down every mask and be naked in the soul before the one. It makes you want to be true. It makes you want to be yourself before them knowing that you won’t be judged whatsoever. It is the understanding that time although less is the most beautiful of all. It is the feeling of satisfaction in silence and the specialness in the mediocrity of simply being in bed together scrolling through social media giggling at pleasantries. Love does not require expensive dates and presents. Love is in the flower from the street and handwritten notes. Love is not in the aesthetics and the words but in simple deeds. It is in the hug of appreciation or the random kiss in the middle of a movie. It is the late night random text that says I miss you, instead of the long poetic posts on social media that are rather only a search for validation of a superficial infatuation.

Love is not awkward, shy hugs. It is the leap in the arms of the one and the fall thereafter. It is the laughter about flaws and the battles against fear, together. Love is friendship. It is the aftermath of the battle together and the nightmares too.

The truth is, if love makes you feel content it is going to hurt just as much, because it simply matters, and anything that differs from this, is a lie.

 

-WANDERER // Marlyn Pereira