7 Nov 2012

The mantises in my life.

I have been here before. Writing about rain. And always, my rain goes with tears. Not today. Today it rains outside, it pours like a punishment to earth. The soil cringe and dread the next rain drop. It prays that the next one will not hurt as bad, will be a tad bit gentle. Yet, it hurts more. And as it pours, helplessly the soil is taken away, to lands unknown.

That has been my life for a while. I have not been in control of what my life has turned out to be. The raindrops have unhinged me, carried me away. Not anymore.

Today, from a coffee shop, I watch the rain. And do not identify that feeling. Instead, I see the beauty, the clearness of colours that seems to appear after the rains. The earth has been washed a new. And so has my heart. I am content. 

I have made mistakes. Those that have made me question my sanity. Because I walked into them eyes wide open. Even peptalked myself as I headed deep into them. Then I cried. Then I hurt. Depressed. Stressed.

There is this praying mantis that  loved hanging out at the door to my laundry room. This mantis is so huge, I was convinced it was either a drone or a Martian. Or a Martian drone. I can never bring myself to kill bugs, no matter how much I hate them. My solution has always been to pick them up with a stick or toilet paper. Throw it into the toilet, then flush. This is where you're allowed to form an opinion into the kind of mother I will make.  Because I shall give birth to bugs. Moving on...

For some reason, I think that's less painful. Like, the flushing happens to fast, they have no time to contemplate whats about to happen to them. I guess that's how I'd like to die myself. I only extend that to them bugs.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, this mantis. I did not want to kill it. I took pictures of it. I posted them on Twitter. I complained about it. But every morning, I went there to look for it.  There was another bug hanging around. No idea what breed that is. But it was always close to the mantis. For a week. These two bugs camped at my door. There were remnants of what looked like food. Or it could have been an accumulation of dirt. But it looked like very tiny dead leaves and ants heads etc., I chose to assume it was the food these two were eating.

One day I go downstairs to the laundry room to check on them. This is becoming an obsession. An unhealthy one. The mantis is gone. The other bug is still there.  I search. Imagine walking up to me at that time and asking me what it is I am looking for. Nowhere to be seen. There are no green spiky and spindly legs remains to give an indication that Bug#2 ate the mantis. Or maybe it did, its a just a very clean eater.

I am kind of disappointed. I kinda liked the mantis.

Following day, I go to check. Bug#2 still there. Day three, bug is lying on the ground. I am not a pathologist, but I can tell when a bug is dead. And this one is pretty much so.

I choose to go with a romantic story as to why it died. It could not live without the mantis.  The mantis upped and left. And instead of Bug #2 living on, going out and enjoying bug life, discovering more doors in my house, it chose to stay there. And die.

There I was. That was me. I am afraid of being alone. I either always have people around me, or the TV, or something. Anything to keep from being with myself. I am a relationship addict. I love being in love. I love having someone.

Then it hit me.

I am that bug. I will die, if I do not learn to live and be okay without the mantises in my life.

1 commented:

Posho said...

Being afraid of being alone is being afraid of not sharing the love. Share it, and you will get. It back in return