Chukwukwe Eugenia Adaku
The truth is regrets are out of the picture. I pushed them to the edges and threw them somewhere too far for me to reach. I cut the ties that used to attach me to what could have been and I have freed myself from the shackles of the things that I could have done. I am done. The past has happened and dwelling on an alternate reality that could have been better is nothing but a waste of time and energy. But sometimes, it all goes back. The memories keep rushing and the regrets keep seeping through the cracks. During these moments, I ask myself, “Will I ever be done?” The ghosts of my mistakes and the options that I didn’t choose keep on haunting me. The disappointed gazes and stifled blames keep on resurfacing on my mind. “Will I ever be done?” I can’t seem to find an answer when the walls keep on pushing their ways towards me and I suffocate on the present that I chose for myself. I chose myself, didn’t I? I walked away from a place that was destroying me. I was young. I thought that it was the only path that would take me to where I want to be.
The pain was real and it never got better. Every single day was just another chance to bury me deep into the mystery that I was already stuck on. When I chose to leave, I thought that it was the end of the road. I punished myself about this decision more than anyone could. I swallowed every word that was thrown at me. I was guilty for not being the reality of their expectation and they love to remind me of this failure. But I chose myself. This is what I keep on repeating on my mind anyway. I chose myself and I don’t expect them to understand.
For a year, I stayed within the darkness. Looking back, I still cringe on all the experiences that I’ve went through. I have lost my sense of purpose and I woke up every time only to be reminded of the despair that I have become. I used to think that I got nowhere to go. I felt like I was screaming to a wall. I tried to come up of ways to end the suffering but somehow, I was able to endure everything and now, I am still here. It’s still a mystery how I went through the darkest era of mine. Sometimes, I still get nightmares about it. I still fear that all of this is just a temporary fix and I’d be dragged to that void again. But it has been two years and somehow, the light is finding its way into my path. There is a direction once again and although there are troubles along the road, I don’t mind. I guess, a part of me has become numb with the pain. I learned how to just get through with it instead of making a big deal about it.
However, I still hate remembering. I hate being reminded of what happened and everything that pushed me to the darkness. I hate some people for always triggering it inside me. This is why I am always fleeting. I’d rather be running and moving and jumping from one place to another all the time rather than staying and feeling out of place. Space and free time kill me. I can never be fully at rest when old feelings keep on sprouting and shooting me like merciless arrows. I can never be still when there are whirlpools that are always threatening to drown me. I can never be really done. I don’t have my own safe place. Even my own mind is full of destructive thoughts that I always escape from. I still have to run so the shadows won’t get to me. I still have to dance on the edges of the earth so that the waves won’t consume me. I still have to continuously drag my feet in order to move on. In this case, even if I look back, I can breathe with a sigh of relief when I see the distance between me and the past. I still have a long way to go and I hope with all my heart that I’d get there first before I explode.