The unlost years

Looking back I see my lost years, where I lived but was unalive – is that a word?. Where I was present but absent. I wonder to myself - where was I, who was I and am I the same person now I was then.

I think to myself, that I did not know who I was. I think that I did not know who I had been, before I did not know who I was.

I think that I did not know where I was. I think that I did not know where I had been, before I did not know where I was.

I think I blocked off who I had been, and where I was coming from. Decided not to remember yesterday and the day before that from my beginning. So that this helped in me not knowing where I was going.

It helped in not knowing when tomorrow would be, and where tomorrow would be. It helped in not knowing if there was even a tomorrow.

Lost in a fog, and unknowing that I was in a fog, let alone knowing what a fog was or what fogged me up.

A fog within myself, around myself, helping me hide from myself, by compartmentising my life, into bits and pieces. So that yesterday did not meet today, and today would never meet tomorrow. So that the past was separate from the present, which never saw the future. So that time was just an instance, and with no precedent or future, just the present and thus never a timeline. Each instant alone, disjointed, not connected; lost when it passed, finished for now because I have lived it.

Living instant by instant. Day by day. Deciding by not deciding, since the instant required no decision.

Being stubborn where it made no sense and making nonsense of sense. Flowing with the crowd, so as never having to pause, reflect or decide. Flowing with the crowd, even when it made no sense.

Recently at the end of a conversation someone asked me, what I wish I could have done differently in my life. I answered that “I should have stood up for me. At such and such a time, I should have stood up for myself.”

Later I wonder, if at that time, just that one time, if I had known that I could stand up for myself would I have stood up for myself.

I wonder why I did not know that I could stand up for myself. I wonder why even without knowing that I could have stood up for myself, why I did not just instinctively stand up for me. I wonder how many “stands” I could have taken, but never took.

I wonder if I stand up for me now, will all the times I never stood up for me come back. Be made up by just one stand now. One major stand. Or even a small stand.

What if the stand is not today, but sometime in the future? Will all the ones I never take between now and that future stand, be brought back by that future stand?

Will one stand make up for all the times, I never stood up for me?

Were there people who knew that a stand for me was needed? Just one stand for me, and never took it for me. Or maybe they too did not know that a stand on my behalf would have worked just as well.

Much much later, I ask a person who could have taken a stand for me, why they never did. And they say that they did for me what they knew best, that they did not know any other way of doing things. That they did not know they could take any stand.

I understand two things – one you cannot do what you do not know, and two, that you cannot take a stand for another, if you have never taken one for yourself.

Anyway – I now take stands (grinning). All the time. I stand for this. And I stand for that. And I hope that all the lost years, the fogged up years will be made up and be like they were never lost. Will be repaid, and not be lost anymore. Will become my unlost years.

A wall of fog
Inside my head
Shutting out
The words I said
Closing off my
Fragile voice
So I have no
Other choice
A wall of fog
Upon my tounge
Ringing like
A bell been rung
Covering up my
Every word
So my screams
Can not be heard
A wall of fog
A circling band
But there's a crack
Upon my hand
So I can write
Where I'm at
Against the fog
I can fight back

Anonymous Ghurl, http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wall-of-fog/
image from www.nevermindthemanager.com

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