Lightbulb

I’ve recently done a lot of thinking. Most of it enforced on me by a little (ok, big) voice that just won’t seem to go away. Why am I scared? Closed off like shell? Why am I acting the way I am? Good question; one that only took me circa 8 months to figure out.

I can honestly say 2007-2011 house some of my most beautiful memories. The kind of memories you form with someone you love so much that no matter what they do, how much they hurt you, nothing can ever tarnish the way you felt in those moments.

For quite a while I lived in a fairy tale, everything was perfect. Everything was going to plan. And when things started to unravel, when the ceiling started to crack, I refused to see it. Not because the crack was small or invisible, it wasn’t. But, rather, because I refused to believe it. Like a stubborn landlord who won’t pay to deal with mold properly, I just kept painting over it. I had been so happy, that I refused to acknowledge or deal with anything that would take that away. Anything that would make me lose that and have to work to try to find it again.

So, that’s what I’m afraid of now. Falling in love anew with something that turns out to be false. Falling in love with a fairy tale that ends sadly. Thinking I’m in a chick flick when I’m really in a drama. Because maybe it is right what they say, fairy tales end when they do for a reason.

So, this Thanksgiving, whereas it might not be mine (I’m not American after all), I am thankful for the moments I was so happy that I cannot put into words, for the moments I hit rock bottom that made me who I am today and for that big voice who wouldn’t stop until I acknowledge what I was afraid of: smoke screens, fairy tales and lies.