If I were a Melody…

“I used to be someone else. Someone who was comfortable with talking. Someone who played with the strings of beautiful words. Someone who did this and that. But then I sank into the dark abyss of my soul, I forgot the existence of the world around me. My eyes are now nearsighted for the universe of my own. I barely talk. Words have forsaken me. I can’t utter a single thing well. That could explain why I like my own company more than anything. I wish to utter words on my paper to see the flow of my thoughts well. I want my words to paint the roadmap of my train of thoughts. But, o my words! They left me behind in the constant perplexed illusion of myself. I can’t even recognize which is reality or ideation. I’m just left to wander in this unknown, untouched part of myself without a hint of light. Even when I’m awake, it feels like I’m sleep walking through my life. This is why I do not want to talk. The war I have inside of me doesn’t put me at liberty to say things. I’m in fact afraid of what I might say if I open my mouth. I do not wish to say the things like you ache me, your presence suffocate me or your words wound me. I just want…I just want an absolute silence.” She sighed. Almost in a relief of the heavy words she uttered. It felt like the words were burying her down. And now she is liberated. But then, what now?

She ran to her room as if she were running away from the previous few minutes. She stood behind the door,trying to collect her thoughts. Her breathing has fastened. She felt her pulse racing. “Why did I open my mouth? Why? Why?” She stared at the wall waiting for a response. She started pacing around the room. Counted her steps. Right, left. Left, right. “Oh my God!” She sighed with a shiver. She then scurried to her bed and hid under the blanket. In the absolute darkness where she can only hear herself without distraction. She felt relief for no one followed her after the speech she had given. She wanted to think of the reason why. But forced all the thoughts back and convinced herself just to lie down in the darkness.

“If I were a melody,” her mind started wondering. This was already the next day and she started scribbling on her notebook. “If I were a melody, I would’ve spent my whole life in a beautiful box. I would sing out the beautiful notes when needed. But for the rest of the time, I will be locked out in my box.” She went on. “I have always thought, when you play a pianoforte, you’re feeling the depth of your heart at the tip of your fingers. Even though your fingers are only doing the magic, your heart is pounding and pouring itself out. Your soul is dancing it’s way through. Only your body is stuck in some fixed position allowing your fingers to move along. In elegance, yet in passion.” She paused for a minute. Then continued again. “But as someone who never played it, but watched many skilled ones perform it with love and passion, I must think that’s how they feel about it. In fact it’s usually said virtuoso musicians lose themselves in the music and zone out from the reality. They become buried inside the box as if they were the melody and the rhythm itself. As the string move, you hear the beat of their soul. That seems to be easy to run away from reality. You just hid in the box.” “Here is my dream job”, she whispered to herself.

She then realized she had been away from the grave reality of her life for few hours. She closed her eyes. She didn’t get out of her room after the last incident. Would she ever be able to stand in front of them? As she starts thinking about her next encounter with her relatives and parents, her throat starts closing up. “I may not be able to say a word after this.” Once the box is open, her mind couldn’t stop wondering about it. “I bet they think it is an iniquity. That it was a disgrace to speak what you have in mind. Is it how it works though? I was a melody in the box. Well, the music that outflowed wasn’t in their liking. And yet, it was still a melody.” As her rambling and her real life becomes at peace, she realized how much little she had spoken. She didn’t say it all. She still has a lot in mind. She felt all the indignation she had kept to herself just for the sake of not saying anything. For the best picture people had of her. But in retrospect, it doesn’t actually feel it worked at all. It was all a ruse at her cost. She doesn’t even remember why she stopped saying anything in the first place. As much as it sounds good to hide in the box and give away such a composition, a melody, it just doesn’t feel right anymore. But this doesn’t mean she is going to use all the words after this. Sometimes, saying nothing says the most anyway. That is also using your voice in sorts. “I am a melody. I live in my own box. My music is sometimes bad. But also good at times. It’s all about a good composition anyway. Who then could tell the bad from the good?” She shouted this in her mind. Then she opened her door and faced the world. Well, at least the people in the next room!