Lonely Nights // H.S

Epilogue

'Said she knows she lived through it, to get to this moment'

*

Five years later

When you have an older sibling, there always comes those moments when you have no choice but to spend time with them because you either have none of your own friends or they're too boring to hang out with. Maybe it's after school, too young to be allowed out on your own because your parents dictate your every move to keep you safe. Perhaps on a Sunday, because nothing fun ever happens on a Sunday.

Whatever the circumstance, you find yourself sitting in the corner of the room while your older brother or sister does whatever older kids do, sometimes on their own or sometimes with friends. They might tell you to fuck off or they'll just ignore you, but you notice everything, because you have nothing better to do.

And then, by some miracle, you get older. Your bones get longer, your muscles somewhat stronger, and your brain and heart become more resilient. You move from child, to teenager, to adult, and while there will be times that you still want to cling to that older sibling, the one that guided you and became your closest friend, you also have a desire, and a comfort, in forging your own path.

One day, being alone doesn't seem like the end of the world. One day, being alone is actually a blessing in disguise. One day, being alone is one of life's great pleasures.

For some of us, this day may feel like a lifetime away. You can spend each night wishing on every shooting star, or every morning praying to the reflection in your mirror, just wishing that you'll find your feet without the guidance of anyone, really. It can drag on for months, years – some people never even find it, because they realise that perhaps having a helping hand all the time isn't such an outlandish notion.

But when it does happen, often at the most unexpected of times, it feels like stepping out of a dark room into one filled with natural light, or taking your first breath after diving into the ocean, or simply finishing the first loop of a rollercoaster and knowing you're capable of enduring the rest. Something that once seemed impossible, like taking your first steps or saying your first words, now entirely within your reach.

As humans, we spend so much of our time observing others, that when the time comes to do something we've watched ourselves, we hardly know where to begin. In our minds, the experiences we had through others, watching them and their lives, living in awe or judgement, are almost fictional. Unless we lived through them, they didn't belong to us, so how are we then expected to create our own?

I've always been the keen observer in everyone's lives. I would watch every interaction, relationship, or event, pressing play each time a tape ended, and another was ready to begin. I have witnessed people tying themselves to others, whether it be a family member, a friend, or a lover, and I have watched them cut through that invisible string. I've seen people come and go, watched as others cried or cheered. But the most poignant of experiences, were those when a person chose to be alone, not because they wanted to distance themselves, but because they knew seeking out a companion or safety blanket would not solve their problems or make their lives any more valuable than they already were.

Five years ago, I finally took this leap, too. I stopped watching, and I started living. Suddenly I was the actor on screen, not the keen audience member in someone else's life. I was no longer a reader, but the writer. No more a viewer, but the painter.

A fitting development, and something that has played on my mind as of late. The way one is able to progress from the possible to the impossible. There are many things in life we feel we must understand in order to achieve them, but in truth, understanding doesn't bring you any closer to a goal or a dream. There may be a complex system of impossible feats, but they only seem impossible because we've set limits for ourselves. A long time passed where I assumed this control over my life would never occur, and I allowed myself to fall into a mundane cycle of easy comfort over ambition and drive, but those barriers no longer exist, and I actively seek ways to challenge all of them.