I Can’t Move on; All I can is to Move Forward
We were eating, in a place, where we seemed to vanish from the world we lived in, for the meantime.
“Your friend has depression.” I said to him,
He, with greesyness on his lips, and silverness on his teeth, was shocked to know that I am diagnosed with depression.
He was a genuine friend; a good one, a rare piece of meat. I had never thought I would have a friend as sincere as him, as soft as I am, and as smart as I think I am.
He said, “ I am here for you.” He did note that he barely said that to others, and I felt our strings collided, no, connected, to his, to his heart, from mine, before.
It took us two hours to finally end our great conversation. And we said goodbyes before I took the path to the south and him to the north.
When I was on the bus, I felt the sound of his voice, which stitches at least a small amount of wound in my head.
I felt his words were hugging me.
I would have never thought that those words were finite. He ended our sentence; our story.
How can I move on? If the tides of his sincerity washed at my shore? The calamity that has struck me was at the verge of making me feel that it will be an eternal burden.
After long months of suffering, of self-contempt, of regret, the hands of reality waved at my balcony; You might not be able to move on.
The infinite whys has helped me find the answer: because the only thing I can do is to move forward; to continue sketching my own horizon in the next thousand hours, even though you are not here beside me anymore.
What distinguishes moving on from moving forward? On moving on, it is like luggage that keeps your hands on tight which will eventually be eased. The grip of your hand will slowly let go of its heaviness. While on moving forward, you are in the process of accepting that the pain might remain; the blood of the brokenness might stain you eternally. But the acceptance of eternal scar doesn’t mean accepting eternal suffering; it’s just that you must learn how to deal with the pain and how to live with it.
I choose to keep moving forward because I need to. There are still many of them that are rooting for me, that are loving me. I should not turn a blind eye from what happened. This is not yet the end. There will definitely, people unconsciously waiting for me to meet them. After all, I deserve to be loved by a man, by a boy, by someone who can be him for me. Him as a man, as a boy, who wishes to be himself.
I will remember this summer of the year, where I am collecting myself from the rustiness of my pieces. Accepting the truth that I might not heal as much as I want to, but I can move, again, the tips of my fingers, that came from numbness, to reach bigger horizons.