What happened? You stopped talking to me.
I thought you were just tired; life has dealt with you and drained you in ways words won't be enough to comprehend. And I have always understood. I was there watching; I saw it all. I saw as your strength reduced and you struggled to live while fighting for your life. I saw it all, those nights when you faced the wall pretending to have slept off just so you could make your parents think the pain has reduced and you're now sleeping.
I watched as the hospital smells started becoming more familiar than any other thing. I saw the worries in your eyes when you saw your hospital bills; I saw the strength your parents were trying to muster. I saw how everyone around you was doing their best to stand tall and remain strong for you.
Even though you didn't say it out loud, I can hear you very clearly.
"Well, I just wanted peace; I don't mind if my dreams have to wait.... Peace."
Wait? No, are you trying to break me? I am the dream. I am that quiet voice in your head; this is me, your dream. I am the picture you painted in your heart when life was still cool, soft, and promising. I am your dream, the belief that your story won't just be about survival but will be meaningful and give hope to others.
But then, life became hard, and everything turned out the way you never planned nor thought of; you began to experience pain, you experienced stuff too much for your age, your family went into debt, borrowed, and sold all they could, and you carry the guilt for it all. You carried that guilt even till now, the kind of guilt that makes you feel you are more of a burden than a blessing.
And I can tell that it's not easy, cause I've been there with you, and I'm still there. I've watched you shrink yourself just so you won't add more weight to those already carrying so much. I saw you; I saw as you tried figuring out the safest path for yourself, and I saw clearly how it isn't as if you're scared like others think.
I saw it all; I was there watching. I saw the pains and the struggles, but still I did not leave. I have seen a lot; I have those words you didn't say out, still I stayed. I was there with you when you realized that you can no longer do certain work and have now been banned from eating some kind of food. I was there with you; I was there on those nights you sat down on the bed crying and thinking how left behind you are while others have moved on with their lives and are now doing well for themselves.
And to you, you thought you were only trying to figure out a way to survive, but I saw the big picture. I knew what you were doing, consciously or unconsciously, knowingly or unknowingly to you; you were learning new ways to keep going and to stay alive.
What you didn't realize is that all those little efforts you put in, the skills you learned, and all those small steps you took just to reduce the weight, pressure, and burden on your parents... It is me whispering to you, "We are not done yet."
Your kind of strength is different; I guess you didn't know that. It's not the loud type; it's the type of strength that's quiet but deep, and for that reason you didn't notice how strong you were becoming. Presently, that strength has gone deep, like roots deep in the soil.
It will interest you to know that I am the root; I am that root that has sunk deep into the soil during a storm. You've experienced storms and turbulence, and it has made me, your root, go deeper. That's why you can no longer give up, even though life has given you a lot of reasons to turn bitter, to stop existing, to be inhumane, and to not hold meaning to anything. But I am the reason you cannot do any of that.
And I understand you; I've always been there watching. I know how you most times feel behind, wondering if anything good will still come out of you while also thinking about whether your story will indeed be meaningful someday.
But I'm here to tell you that delay is not denial. Your story is still being written, and what's to come is huge. Don't be scared; you've fought all the battles in the past, and you've been victorious.
So, don't even think you're starting late, don't think you're empty, and don't ever think you're weak, because you are not. You're starting with the needed consciousness, you're starting well. So, you owe no one an apology; you don't even owe yourself that. Don't feel bad for being slow, and don't feel ashamed because your journey is different.
All of that is happening and has to happen because you're different.
I know fear will still come your way as always, and it can be loud, maybe louder than you, but do not silence me. I will always be here. I didn't choose you because life would be easy; I chose you because you're strong. I choose you because even though life almost made you go extinct, something inside you stayed, fought, and refused to disappear.
And that something that refused to give in is me... Your dream.
I am the dream you almost gave up on, and it will interest you to know that I'm not done with you yet.
This little piece is my entry for the Neoxian talent hunt. And it is one that's written from the heart, inspired by true stories, real struggles, and the belief that even in difficult times, moments and seasons' purposes can still find expression.
Cover Image-AI
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