There is a library close to my house, no more than a 15-minute walk. Around the corner close by a shopping mall that is always filled by the children from the two schools nearby. It is a place that I used to go to think and gather my thoughts when I had an hour free. On my way back from work I would go there and sit with headphones in my ears so no one would bother me, a book in my hands and I would ponder upon everything happening in my life. That library in a way was just like my head was just a lot more organized.
The crowded entrance that was often surrounded by the bikes of passersby was so much like all the people around in my life that I meet and only allow to see me skin deep. The downfall of having thick walls and not allowing anyone close yet dying inside of loneliness. The skin-deep mask on my face letting everyone know that I’m a happy woman with everything she might want and nothing to worry about in the world. It stops people from asking, it’s very peculiar how people don’t worry about you when you smile a lot. Most can’t even tell through the tears in your eyes let alone the smile on your face. It is a mask of happiness, a golden cage for the little bird that sings its last breath before dying. There is so much of me I long to show and share with the world, yet the little girl that creates all of it is locked somewhere in the basement of my broken mind.
Once into the entrance of that library, people start smelling the books inside, it is that particular smell of old books that entrances people and makes them curious to know more and see more. They would slowly enter the main hall and see the books on the tables that are for sale. The things you see first about a person. Their chit chat and small comments that I’d say when I really don’t like to speak about it yet I should. Like when you have been crying for hours because the memories about dad just won’t stop coming and your friend comes over, noticing your teary eyes. The question what’s wrong makes you only more upset and can’t keep the tears in but just really don’t trust enough to tell them. So you say I'm just really anxious and I don’t know why. It's so sad that I can’t even trust my own friends to say what tears my heart apart. Life has been cruel though and people have proven to me more than once that love only hurts and there isn’t anything that anyone can offer you that doesn’t involve some kind of hurt. I miss having to allow people in because only a hand full see that lobby and they think they know me because they see some feelings. It hurts me. the truth is that it is just a façade to stop people from seeing the depths of my ocean.
The real ocean that is hidden behind the reception desk of my mind. In the countless rows of books within the labyrinth of my subconscious. Its dark in there I am telling you, even I get lost inside the rows. A huge labyrinth leading to the room where my most precious treasure sleeps, the spider queen, the child in me. my little tarantulla. This labyrinth you see is her home it is her web. Each row is a time in life with all the memories in there. In the front is more current events and the last books in the backs would date to events from past lives that mattered a lot to carry with me. Like the memory of my one true love that my entire soul belongs to. He is like that line on the floor that divides the raws and connects them that is everywhere in you. In every cell of my being and every thought in my mind. My heart beats together with his for eternity and will never forget the way he made me feel.
The depths of this labyrinth hides the darkest moments in my life, some are locked even for me. the little girl doesn’t want me to see that she protects me from myself I guess. Often I would look at her and wonder if it is me protecting her or her protecting me? such pure being I was and how I have changed I have lost myself and I still can't get it back. It is locked away from me and how do I know who I am if I can't remember my own past. The days that dad would walk out of the elevator and slam the door. I would feel terror run up my spine. He was so cruel to me. it is betrayal in its worse form. To make someone believe something that doesn’t exist. What do you do from that point on? Who do you trust if the people meant to love you and protect you hurt you the most? How does one grow up when there is no base to grow up from? The school wasn’t even better bullied the entire school years and youth wasn’t better. The only thing I want to hide is myself because my trust in the world is gone. I don’t believe good people exist and I don’t say it often because I don’t want to be right and I want to not feel this way yet I do.
The corners in my mind that are pure feelings and don’t even have words at all, it’s just waves of feelings and memories that I protect with my life. My feelings are the only thing they can’t touch because they can’t see them. I am not even me to myself I have broken down in countless little pieces and books inside that library that when a person asks me to tell me about yourself I cannot do it. My mind is broken and my heart surrounded by ice that I dream of the day that it is set free and can love again. once only it tasted love and that love I will never let go because it means the world to me.
How often do you sit in a library and just wonder which book should I have a look at? Not knowing really want you to feel like reading. This is how I feel every day. I don’t know which part of me is me and which part isn’t and is projected from my childhood. Don’t get me wrong I don’t have a split personality I know all of my aspects and I am in control of them but I don’t know how to make myself whole again. How to love and how to trust without doubting myself. How not to veil me and how to just trust people for once.
The moment I can learn that will be the start of the rest of my life. Peace profound.