With age, many things erode.
Young is pure, that much is the truth.
The younger you were when you get things taken away from you,
the more bitter it builds you.
If you're lucky, you wouldn't understand what it means to lose
these building blocks of what it takes to grow well. Then,
you either can't understand and understand or you can't understand and won't understand.
I was 5 when I dreamt of things bigger than life and some of the early
prayers I made were with the intention of saving the world.
My world. At that point in time, that was my parents.
They were all I knew.
When I was out exploring how vast the world was, and how big I can be,
the thought of so much space to grow,
I wanted to save the world.
Be a politician, an advocate, an honest person with power, to serve, be
a voice for the weak, loud and sincere.
Not once I believed that fights could tire me. Not when the bitterness brewing black
in me, having pieces of me taken away without anyone
fighting for me, not even validating my loss.
Then, you explore and explore and grow and fall and spectate, only
to learn bitterly how small the world is and how small, how minuscule a person like
yourself is
and
the world is filled with such good intentions, of which rarely gets
executed to its rightful end.
There is no space to grow when every corner is of fights unwon.
Some fight and relent, some fight and realize halfway it won't be worth it, some end up being the very thing they fight against, some fight and lose.
Fights left in me.
I'm some years older and still get things taken away from me. None the wiser.
Not for long, just dormant.
How big, how blue, how beautiful.
