Uncertain Future

My first story here - my favourite thing - a journal entry.

On Facebook, a group I follow of nerds, geeks and dorks asked a question - What would you call this chapter of your life? So many funny answers like - My back aches - and some others that made me feel like I wasn’t alone - like - Rock bottom. So often I think everyone has it better than me or that is the way life is supposed to be. I think we all want to hear happy stories from people - we want to be around people that uplift us - bring light and warmth.

I wrote - Uncertain future: The scared heart.

One day I’m going to be completely alone and I don’t want to be - but it’s not like I can really control it. I’ve fought through mental illness - I didn’t give up. In the beginning I couldn’t think or communicate - I couldn’t daydream - I fought hard and now I can do these things which brings me to my dream of writing. I want to be in that world in the world of artists - it’s where I am most at home and I think maybe in that world I won’t be alone even though it’s a solitary activity. I mean - stories is the way I’ve connected to anybody anyway - go out with my friends - go to a movie - go over to a friends place - watch a movie. Maybe I think if I put words on paper or on a screen - maybe I can be seen and heard - maybe it’ll be a dialogue in the realm of fantasy - outside of the real world and there heavenly conversation and ideal people like all the actors we idolise - the chosen ones - our favourites. Because I am speaking like Cyrano - even if I am also Christian - the dummy speaking his words of heart and eloquence - because I am both I think. Sometimes no one can see that I’m really Cyrano - I get my words all wrong so often.

Maybe I get too down - asking someone to listen to me as I blow up a life saving device with every breath of pain and negativity I speak as I figure out how to deal with my scared heart. People don’t want to hear the process of getting to a better place - they want to hear you in the good place which is where I would like to be too.

Maybe they can hear the desire to be rescued - the askance. And they hold their breath and stay still, hoping not to be chosen and I understand. That’s my Cyrano.

So am I looking for a hero? A superman? If I am then I should embrace my vulnerability.

Am I too realistic and thinking there are no heroes - no one wants to rescue anybody? Is that why my heart is scared? Am I scared because I’m not a hero and if I’m not a hero then no one else can be. Can a hero be inspired? Is heroism contagious? Do I need to be a hero first? Am I lagging behind the group, wounded, left to die? I have to keep up with the stronger ones in the group. Are these very words me standing up, having fallen, and taking my first steps to catch up?Am I at once strong and vulnerable? Strong enough to limp alongside a busy hero with his arm around willing to help me as he rescues the city?

I never gave up on my broken mind. Now I have a new challenge and maybe I will call on what was once broken and ask it work alongside that which persisted it into health - my determination to be well. And so I will use my imagination to write heroes into being with inspiration and guidance - maybe turning heads that have turned away and showing them there is some value here - there is at the very least a communion.

What if I ask you to be here? You can always say no. Would you chose that just because you can? Can my fragility compel you to stay? Or should I be left behind? If I need you maybe you need me too. Maybe there’s someone better than me though, someone more full of light for you - someone warmer. Someone who gives to you rather than asks you to stay. And so what is my payment when I am the scared heart -Beauty? Sex? Humour? Story? Family? Independence?

What if I have none of these to give - what else can I pay?

I think maybe just the warmth of this moment.

Luciana Jelicich