I think everyone at some point has experienced a sudden wave of depression and this is especially true for creatives. A habit I have formed overtime when depression knocks, is reading but when I was out of ideas for the structure of my next project and I picked up a book to read yesterday, I still wept because it gets very hard to tell just anyone what exactly I have planned. I realized that I was actually a lucky specie of human because if I shed tears in public, no one would walk up to me to say, women don’t cry!
Today I realized I do not want to attend singles meetings for a while. It’s for the same reason I refuse to attend wedding ceremonies alone. The loneliness that creeps in is disarming. What strength and strongwill gathered overtime, dissipates and I feel vulnerable. These meetings are a celebration of love, something different from the business and literary meetings I usually attend. Here, a happily married couple come to tell stories of their friendship, they kiss and play and churn out advise while the ones who are unmarried dream of getting married and being that close to each other and vowing to love their partners with their all.
When a friend asked where my destination was after the meeting, I thought hard. Many times, I’ve asked that question, where are you heading to? ‘A friend’s’, was my response but I also remembered that I am a girl, that I should be careful and that the one whose house I would have visited was more an acquaintance than a friend so I said again, ‘Home. I’m going home.’
I stare at trees and buildings and dream of owning structures better than the ones I see, on the taxi ride back home. I want a school someday, houses, companies, I know that it only takes my dreaming it to get it and I smile because I know exactly what I am working hard to get but from the blues, I realize I want a family to share them with, a partner to dream with; one who will let me fly and not feel intimidated.
I do not go straight home. I visit the mall instead. It is crowdy today. This is the one place I go to when my room feels like a box. I sit and stare at passing figures, well-dressed mannequins and products on display. I see it clearly everyday I am here, seated on one of the benches, music in my ears, I see my clients, my future.
I stare at the lady marketers chasing after the wealthy-looking women and the hijabis who ignore their efforts and walk away. I stare at the girls with smooth skin trotting about with long hair and fancy clothes, I see the man on the other bench who is struggling to stay in tune with the lady talking to him while he is distracted by the light-skinned girls with straight legs who walk past him. I watch kids struggle to walk in their heeled shoes along the runway that is the mall aisle, they are dressed like adults. I watch friends hold hands and laugh without caution, I watch daughters hug their fathers, I see happy families and I want mine too.
I write down what I think are the stories they’d rather keep to themselves. I do not believe that they are happy but I still want mine.
I want to tell one man my dreams. I want to tell him where I’m going to and I want him to say to me, ‘You go girl! We’ll do this together’, but it seems like his kind is taken by someone and that our paths will not cross soon or maybe our paths have and I have held on too tight to my guard that I refused to see him. Whatever the case, I’ll keep dreaming and praying that he comes soon so that I’ll finally have one other than a book to trust with my plans.
So here in the mall, I want to cry and I blame it on the meeting because at this point, the best I can do to keep my guard in place is block my ears with the pods and pretend not to hear the young man beside me ask for permission to sit on the bench; because if I let him find me interesting, I’ll let down my guards and he will hurt me silly and I will not dream again of those houses and companies. I’ll instead spend the time healing; because another day is ending again and I still have not mapped out plans for this project; because now I am distracted and can’t help this feeling.
I should not attend these meetings, important as they are in shaping my knowledge about marriage, I should not attend them.
End of rant.
*ignore errors, this is impulsive, unedited and will soon be made private*
EDIT – June 4, 2017 21:26. Post made public.