glimses of my kintsugi soul

I was just chatting with one of my friend, about old friendships, about my stubborn nature, about how many friends I had lost because of my pride. At the end of the message he wrote, “I don’t know what you think… but sometimes think of other person not yourself.”

I was stung to tell the truth… and a lot of sarcastic lines came to my head but I decide to think of the other person and replied, “Being selfish is what I do best. Please allow me at least that pleasure in life.”

But his reply stunned me. “You try to be selfish… you show that you are selfish… this fake, show-off selfishness is more dangerous.”

Made me think, did he really know me that well, to make this sort of comment? Or was I just plain easy to read? Did he know of the wet pillows at night, did he notice the far off look I got whenever I saw a bunch of friends discussing studies… did he know I screened all my thoughts and action and that I wasn’t spontaneous anymore. That I was just a shell of a person, I once used to be, trying to maintain a show. That I lived everyday filled with sadness and fake laughter, of how close I was to crossing that fine line between moving on and giving up on life…. that depression was a thing I had to deal with everyday in the emptiness of my one bedroom flat.

Flash backs are such cliché… something one has on their death bed or at really bad moments in their lives. I have a normal comfortable life. Nothing to complain about. Nothing to celebrate about either. But these flashbacks seemed to follow me everywhere… putting tears in my eyes at the most unexpected of times… times I wasn’t prepared enough to hide them. Looking at a friend’s message where he sent me a psalm brought tears to my eyes in the middle of a crowded room. Maybe because I didn’t expect anyone to pray for me… or to remember me in their prayers. I had almost given up on God… it felt like a reminder from some other lifetime…  at other times, being pulled to the front of the table, where a birthday cake sat ready to be cut, by the 6 years old son of my landlord, so that I didn’t feel like an outsider (which I was), left me amazed… Did I believe the world to be worse than it actually was??! Or was I dwelling down into the hole of self pity again…

People say that there are some questions in life which cannot be answered because they are meant to remain a mystery. Because there are no answers and all we could do is trust in something bigger than us, believe that someone up there is going to take care of everything, if we just kept our side of the bargain and lived our lives in peace and quiet. Sometimes I feel like asking, was I suppose to turn out like this or was happiness ever a possibility for me?! Am I just a broken vessel or is God going to turn it all around and turn me into a kintsugi… a perfectly imperfect piece.