The dynamics of my relationships have often had someone else be my muse. Someone else’s beauty which I admired. A sentiment I could not explain. A connection of humanness, our submission to our natural core and animalistic nature of softness and momentary bliss.

I often wondered why it took me so long to get over my loves. I think it was because I saw their beauty when they couldn’t see it in themselves. It is so delicate and mesmerising. I think this is why I am often fast to give the benefit of the doubt or to feel sorry for people who have hurt me or to forgive, friends or partners. I snap into thinking they will be in an accident or I will never get to tell them how I feel if we ever disagree about anything. I want nothing bad for anyone who has ever hurt me. Sometimes roads are paved without permission or notice but this does not mean there are no positive memories. Having said that though, I have every right to be angry or hurt (which is often the case) if I was mistreated or if something shocked me or changed me with force and disregard/disrespect to what I am and what I stand for. I am really hard on myself when I feel these emotions because I feel pathetic and unworthy of feeling guilty for feeling negativity – if that makes sense? I need to give myself time to heal and that is something I often forget takes a real while and isn’t linear.

I can’t remember the time I made this decision, but I have always been a peculiar child who dealt with situations in ways “unnatural” to the course of the circumstances I was involved in. I am not sure if it was because I lost an important part my innocence at a young age or if I am too sensitive, but it is who I am.

I remember being at a gathering with other Greek and Cypriot people when I was little and there was the mother of a family friend my parents knew. I am not sure what she had but it was loud in the venue and everyone was talking to the person next to them. This grandmother, I could see, was staring into space and no one was talking to her. She even had a carer who I am not sure was at the time. All I remember is the kids my age telling me to come and play and running off. I could not leave though, I could not stop looking at her. I sat next to her and tried shouting louder than the music and she understood some of it. I don’t know if she had a memory problem or it was because of old age but our eyes met and hers had tears in them and she kept on dabbing them with the tissue. I remember patting her hand.

Another time, another grandmother (family friend’s Mom) came around to our house when I was still young and I was hungry so my Mom asked if I wanted to have this sort of porridge called ‘trachana’ in Greek. So, she made some for the guests and I remember she brought them in these plastic bowls that we used to use for breakfast that had a straw built in them so you could drink the milk hassle-free (!). So, I remember she wanted to feed me and I fed her too spoon by spoon. I remember us both smiling to each other and thinking this is interesting but did not know she had Alzheimer’s at that moment; I realised this when I grew older. Her eyes were so innocent and meaningful.

I have changed, I am more mature and straightforward. I have my morals and try my best to become a better human being but realise it is a constant process of learning. In the past, I used to not want to really confront anyone or any feelings because I was afraid of certain things such as rejection, embarrassment or feeling like I was falling behind what my peers were doing even when I was perceived as an adult. Now, I am not as afraid. I feel so much more comfortable and confident.

This post has no point, I just wanted to write today.

Copyright © M.E.S.