It seems that I cannot escape the cloud of controversy that always
looms around me, and it feels like the bitter after-taste of medicine; and this
time more so than ever the true intentions are overshadowed by shame, ignorance
and the fear of tainted reputation.
But every
cloud, as they say, is lined in silver, and this time, possibly, it’s no mere
argent, but gold.
It is often fruitless and painful work to try to convince and
alter some, but very much also harder to refrain yourself or, in this case, myself
from doing as such. To change means some level of acceptance prior, and without
the willingness and desire, one tends to side with what oneself feels safe.
Maybe for me, it is the sensation of never truly ever being safe or completely
voided from attack from oppression that fuels me. It burns a fire within the
folds of my mind, to challenge the status quo, to strive for the different.
Maybe because of this, I am willing to go tooth and nail, to fight, to fish out
from within the opposition, change, and when met with obstruction, often
resulting in brutish replacements for negotiation.
Then, there are times where you just question yourself, “Was it
worth while?” Would I one day think fondly or even look back at the hilarity of
matter, or will I feel the same guilt that my defiance should have continued to
stay within the confines of the compartments of a cupboard. In darker times, I
think even more so into my real persona, delve into my real ‘modus operandi’ of
sorts and it feels like I am stuck within a never-ending loop of guilt and
acknowledgment of varying success. Many suggest positivity as the remedy, but
positive thinking is tiring work, and sometimes I question how much of that
energy I still have left within myself. Usually thinking that way makes the
cloud even more ominous, as if I may well be consumed by it.
Being a spark is being a
match that lights a bigger wick, a slower burn, and a longer and consistent
fire, but means a small part of myself is charred as a result. A sacrifice?
Or maybe it is arrogant thinking. Although I write this, I know I am no poster
boy, no symbol, and I never intended to be so, in all honesty, the mention of
another motive other than my simply desire for the original aim was part of the
package that I know well and sure that could and became the fatal flaw in the
whole situation. But a small meek voice suggests an embracing of such a
challenge and though the shoes are hard to fill, at least for a brief period,
that shoe can be moved, to kick-start a bigger ball rolling. A legacy, built
upon discrimination and obliviousness, may not seem like much, but maybe it is
still foundations for growth.
We all have influence, and we all can and will evoke something,
influence someone, alter a situation, scales big or small, we will all leave a
mark upon this earth. Maybe this is myself coming to terms with that, maybe
it’s a huge humble brag, maybe I wrote this to inspire, but one thing I can say
is this, you are slightly different now from when you were before. Irreversible?
No, not entirely but a small inspiration, a flicker in the back of your mind
something now is different and that is truly something we should not take for
granted.
Ultimately, intent is an objective, a purpose, achieving it is the
ultimate goal. And in all truth, I’ve done it, maybe, though in a way that has
made me feel unease and guilt, while simultaneously loved and undying support. I
am infinitely blessed to have the backing of numbers, through sympathy and
unwavering encouragement. That cannot be forgotten. Loss sparked words, sparked
conversations, shone light in long oppressed shadows. Thus, in smaller or
bigger ways, the collectiveness, the odd but comforting sense of comradery
lessened the feelings of defeat, for within failure, was there growth, and with
new growth there shall always be new light; it is not an end, it is an alternate beginning.
