Strange
bedfellows, you little fellows are. Whimsical, petulant things who constantly
float about in my head, who swell into gigantic proportions and clog my heart, whenever prodded.
And I cannot place you in a box nor seal it tight, for fear of feeding you a
compression that causes you to grow, and grow, and grow. And then burst open
like a fanfare of colours-in-a-box, splattering and staining everything inside
and/or around me.
Just like the frame that captures the colours on each canvas, you swathe my world, whispering in my ears. Naughty things that tint my world rose, twine my heart with
green, stain my emptiness blue and make me see red. I both envy and pity those
who do not find themselves needing to deal with these little devils. Envy,
because they've have cost me many a pretty pound in scrubbing the bruises they
leave, both outside my shell, and inside my heart. Yet, if ever I would reach
into my heart and my head and not find you there, I would find myself unbearably..
lonely. And my world would fade into monochrome dullness, losing the edge that your
colours give.
Why I felt
the need to write about these particular little devils, especially after waking
up from a period of hibernation (from updating the blog).. I know not. A manifestation of
self-reflection after the abundant discussions about MBTI types, perchance? I
have often considered you a nuisance, having associated with you various
memories of losing hold of your leash and watching you lunge forward with a vengeance, suffocating the person(s) nearest to me. And often the dearest.
Good God, I’m
sorry. To those who've had to scrub the splatters of emotional excess after the
explosions. I’m only too glad that I found my paint rag to help cleanse some of
the messes before the stains soaked in too deeply to be removed. Mum has ever
told me I don’t control you enough for my own good; yet, realizing that I am an
ISFJ is like being shown the reversed side of the story.
Together, how
much pain have we dealt out, how much remorse have we suffered? But I have not
been fair to you, you poor little devils. I have not tried to understand you, always
letting you run wild, only to lock you in that prison of a box when I didn’t
like how you were ringing the alarm in my head. But listen to me: I have
finally accepted that I cannot shut you away in the hopes that you'll shush and
not try to break free. I promise you,
although I will still stuff you in there from time to time, I will heed you
when you knock on the lid and ask to be let out. And I will guide you out
myself, in harmony, you and I hand in hand, walking together, finding the
answers we need.
Because if
you and I end up hurting the precious ones again... I couldn’t forgive either
you or myself, and might wish for you to disappear. And know that if I reach
inside and find that you're no longer there... I simply wouldn’t know how to
live anymore.
