The Truth behind Opening Doors to Strangers
Early morning, I went for a run half awake. The sun rays had not yet reached my bones. i had risen as the sun itself. Even all the flowers turned towards me. Even the sea sang a song to me, “Where were you all these days?” but my heart was very heavy. As I was running with that happiness, a cool but strong breeze kicked open the doors of my heart. Inside the door were infinite unspoken and unheard stories. And the heart spoke a story of a broken relationship.
One night, I slept with my doors open. Other nights I just open my window. Not necessarily waiting for someone, it is just that I like to harness the cool breeze of the night. I had forgotten about the dangers of theft and strangers. It was a full moon day which reflected onto my room. All the shadows had come out to play. In my sleep, I started to play hide and seek which lasted until the sunrise. Behind the curtains, i encountered my own shadow.
Ever since I was a kid, I have always been very scared of the pitch-dark night. In the silence of the night, I would be scared to even listen to the beating of my heart. Not being able to bear the silence, I would scream out for my mom and dad, and run to them. But that day, under that full moon, I chose to look straight into the heart of the shadow.
Jumpscared it claimed, “don’t look at me with love, for I have nothing to give you, only this shattered heart and a life of mistake.”
I searched for my own scars. With joy in my heart I said ,” look, my heart has been broken too!!” Into the suppleness of my heart, I promised to love myself so i can nurture him. But his heart, unlike mine, was not shattered. It had been burned like a wildfire spreading with the wind burning everything it touches. That wildfire came very close to my shattered heart, but it stopped right at the borderline. With that grieving heart, he claims,” Look at this burning heart of mine. Whatever it loves, it burns. I lack the breeze that your broken heart needs. Warning me to stay away.
I was new to the whistle of the fire and i could not hear anything except for the howling wind. Beneath it all was a wishper of the breath it had held for long. It was trying to tell me to wait a while, and through your coolness undo this burning desire.
And when the sun arose from the sea, the shadow disappeared as a black bird in the sky. I don’t know where it went, but I wonder if it still lurks in that corner of the street. Sometimes I open the door and look around, Anticipating if it will come out to play. A lot of sun has risen and set without him, and with this last breath of this cigarette, this love story too.
