My years flew by so swiftly, yet the journey of getting here seemed long and unfruitful. I feel I tired myself out trying harder than I ought, stretching wide and reaching for glimmer that turned out to be glints of cheap gold. What have I acquired but trinkets and piles of paper filled with dreams that may remain dreams until I fall into the deepest sleep? What do I do with all these words that hardly make a dent in this thick membrane of noise suffocating my world with endless muttering?
By half the world’s standards, I am young. Yet I feel the strain in my limbs at every turn. I do not wish to be younger. I only wish I could hold on to my senses for longer. Or rather, that they don’t abandon me too soon. I know there are yet some silver threads in the sky, if not gold, to wait for. But I am tired. And I ache from restless hours, and I long for time. Though sometimes I wish for all of it to end sooner.
But then, I met you in the passage. You’re still here. And I am reminded that I did not get here alone. Suddenly, the cheap glimmer turns into an aurora too beautiful for my eyes that they can’t but sing their gratitude in tears. I am reminded that in the midst of it all, there is kindness. I do not need to fear what I know to be inevitable.
And these piles of paper didn’t turn out to be meaningless, after all, because you’ve given them the honor of your gaze. The thought of tomorrow exhausts me to no end. But it is of much lighter weight, with your smile hanging at the corner of my eyes.
If anyone should ask what my mumbling is for, I thank you for taking these words into consideration. They are now in your hands.
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