On Faith
There have been times in the past two months when I've felt drained, tired, and sometimes dead. It's like being perpetually trapped in a time capsule; you watch everyone and everything around you go on with their lives and take its course and you even part-take in those processes somehow, but in the end you're still stuck. I've felt like, in a dark tunnel, someone had stepped on the brake suddenly and my life came to a big halt, then that someone got out of the car and went away in a cab with the key, leaving me with a car I didn't know what to do with. And I had to watch the car so it wouldn't get towed, or broken into, or stolen, or destroyed. Therefore I stay. I stay because it's a perfectly good car despite its mileage and some scratches on the bumpers. I stay because that someone might come back to get us.
Some people think I'm silly for sticking around, and others offer words of encouragement. But what keeps me going is faith, faith in myself, in this car, and in the person that's fled the scene. I keep believing that we all get stuck in dark tunnels sometimes, and it's okay to run away out of fear. Selfishness is what makes us human, and without this quality life wouldn't be real. So off that someone goes, in search of the light that would save and comfort him.
So that leaves me and the big question—how long do I wait?
Most of the times I sit in the car. And then there are times when I almost suffocate and push the door open, stumble out and begin to walk away. It seems like the safest and easiest thing to do. After all, I've been offered all kinds of help and given all kinds of tools. I could even fetch a ride. I know the light is there and I can begin my journey towards it, as soon as I get a sign that the car is no longer wanted.
But so far, no sign. So I always go back and sit, held down by a seatbelt made of faith.
There have been times in the past two months when I've felt drained, tired, and sometimes dead. It's like being perpetually trapped in a time capsule; you watch everyone and everything around you go on with their lives and take its course and you even part-take in those processes somehow, but in the end you're still stuck. I've felt like, in a dark tunnel, someone had stepped on the brake suddenly and my life came to a big halt, then that someone got out of the car and went away in a cab with the key, leaving me with a car I didn't know what to do with. And I had to watch the car so it wouldn't get towed, or broken into, or stolen, or destroyed. Therefore I stay. I stay because it's a perfectly good car despite its mileage and some scratches on the bumpers. I stay because that someone might come back to get us.
Some people think I'm silly for sticking around, and others offer words of encouragement. But what keeps me going is faith, faith in myself, in this car, and in the person that's fled the scene. I keep believing that we all get stuck in dark tunnels sometimes, and it's okay to run away out of fear. Selfishness is what makes us human, and without this quality life wouldn't be real. So off that someone goes, in search of the light that would save and comfort him.
So that leaves me and the big question—how long do I wait?
Most of the times I sit in the car. And then there are times when I almost suffocate and push the door open, stumble out and begin to walk away. It seems like the safest and easiest thing to do. After all, I've been offered all kinds of help and given all kinds of tools. I could even fetch a ride. I know the light is there and I can begin my journey towards it, as soon as I get a sign that the car is no longer wanted.
But so far, no sign. So I always go back and sit, held down by a seatbelt made of faith.
5 comments:
I recommend hotwiring the car :-p
Ah Mimi such poetically depressing imagery from such a cheery girly.
Very delicately designed. I really like the way you put it. Your writing is fulfilled with many different elements. I enjoy reading it a lot. And thanks for always providing insightful advices to keep me going. Love ya!
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