When I was young, I was given a gift by a tall old man. A very special gift that even then I had come to realize the importance of. It was crudely wrapped in cardboard and tape, but inside was something special indeed. It was mine and yet I wanted to share it with the world.
And so I did. To him and her, them and those too. Even to you. Every time it hurt, because, no one else thought it was special. They saw the wrapping and threw it away, nonplused and repulsed all the same. I was hurt. So I decided to save this special gift. Save it for someone in my life. Someone who will truly understand what it means to me.
And so I did. I would try my hardest to find that special someone. “To her I would give it!” I spoke! And not a word to soon. The eyes that stared back, with disbelief and disgust. “Haha no” was all they said. But still I told myself I wouldn’t give up. Never. I can’t give up. Everything else is pain, and this gift is all I have to live for. I cannot give it up.
And then I met her. She was, striking, to say the least. This bed of aroma and warmth that enticed visions of acceptance and home, feelings of which I have never felt before. She took this gift and was excited! Excited to unwrap it, to see what was inside. Cautious I let her in, but soon gave way. Finally, o finally, I have found the very presence of happiness in my life, to share in with what I hold so very dear. I retired my final guards, they no longer needed to be at attention, for my life and my gift have hope and love. They are for once, held by someone else to be of meaning and virtue. No longer will I need to dream of the reality that was unfolding upon my very lap; the scenes were whirring by in my head. I imagined great things, great things indeed! It was ecstatic and immense and it was……
real.
But as I was revering what was to come, I didn’t see what was going on. She too, had become uninterested in my gift, and slowly ignored it more and more every day. Thrown in a corner (as I later found it), covered in dust and mold and all the things that come with neglect. The paint had worn off, the shine was gone. But worse of all, it lay there in pieces. It had shattered and been broken. The very gift that made me live, was….broken.
My gift was my heart.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I am meant to feel pain. Maybe, that is my purpose. I have given everyone everything, and gotten only pain in return. Maybe, I do not deserve happiness. Maybe I am undeserving of love too.
Maybe I am just another waste of time.
2 comments
This is beautiful. And you’re not a waste of time. It hurts so much to open up to someone only to have them leave and make you wonder if any of it was real. But I keep telling myself I have to believe that truth eventually wins and if it’s real, it’ll make its way back. Maybe the moment was wrong or maybe it was just something you needed at the time but the universe has decided you can survive without it. I don’t know. I do know that I tell myself these things although I don’t know if I believe them because it’s the only way I can get through it.
You are not a waste of time.
Life jus has no guarantees.
And no matter what you do smetimes you catch a painful turn of events.
And other times a pleasurable one.
And we cannot control what others do.
Just how they affect us and to what extent within certain parameters.
As long as you can love yourself, you will be ok.