“Don’t be bothered by the noise. Go sit and be silent,” I read this evening, and it made me pause for a moment.
Be silent, the phrase urged. Don’t mind the noise, it said.
I lost count of how many times I repeated it over and over in my mind, until I finally admitted to myself that I couldn’t do it.
No, that’s wrong.
It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I don’t want to. I choose not to, in the same way that I’ve chosen not to do it so many times in the past. But why?
There’s no way around this one; it’s plain and simple:
I’m scared of my thoughts.
Me dan miedo mis pensamientos.
Two languages, one concept.
I don’t want to go sit and be silent. I don’t want to unearth all I’ve been hiding. I don’t want to face the part of me that has been tamed. I don’t want to deal with all of the pent up emotions cowering behind my smile. I don’t want to let loose and allow myself to feel everything that I will never be able to express with words. I don’t want to ask life-altering questions for fear they might actually change my life.
Because once I do, there’s no going back. Once I do, the responsibility to follow through becomes inevitable, unavoidable. Because once I do, I have to stare at my reflection and either spit out the truth or choke on it.
And the truth is this: we are all mortals trying to understand how to make the most of this life. We are all mortals struggling to survive in a world that is ours, yet that we don’t and can’t control. We are all mortals in a state of flight, in a constant movement that is both beautiful and frightening at the same time.
We are all mortals that will one day pass, and this thought still makes me cry. So tonight, I let myself cry.
And I cried.
And I cried.
And I cried.
I cried for me, I cried for my family, I cried for my friends, I cried for you, I cried for him, I cried for her, I cried for them, I cried for all of the incredible people that I love so fucking much that I feel the need to drop an F-bomb and write a run-on sentence because neither will ever be enough anyway and so who cares if I do either?
Love, once again, is my saving grace, the only thing that makes any minuscule part of my mortality bearable. And so, after a good, long cry, it is with great joy and confidence that I renew my commitment to love until it kills me.
Because for me there’s no other way to face my demons; as always, I defeat them with love. All I can hope for is to transmit this heavy, profound, all-encompassing, all-powerful emotion to every person whom I care about.
You know who you are.
To all of you, G R A C I A S, because you help me be who I am today and walk on toward a tomorrow that is full of light, come what may. And for that, I consider each and every one of you my personal miracles.
Photo: Belén Alemán / Isla Verde, San Juan, Puerto Rico