Once I took a train to Rejection Station. Oh, pardon me, make that four times. I think I already lost track. There I saw people weeping and feeling sorry for themselves. There I saw people losing the will to go on. There I saw people trying so hard to mask their fears. There I saw people taking risks while walking with blindfolded eyes, not knowing what will happen when they say what they need to say. There I saw people taking off their blindfolds to make fun of those who are still struggling, still trying to find their way without cheating. There I saw myself, blindly falling into traps I should’ve known better not to fall into.
Many times I tried escaping that merciless station. Oftentimes I did, sometimes I fell flat on my face. But when I did escape, I ended up making it to Acceptance Station, Contentment Station, and Solitude Station. The road wasn’t easy, but somehow I make it.
Those three stations had a lot in common. There you can see people enjoying the company of others who are still waiting for the right time to depart and try to go someplace new. There you can see people writing on their journals, breaking dishes, singing out loud even if they have horrible voices, watching romantic movies alone, eating with the company of their favorite songs, and smiling with hopeful thoughts of what the future holds.
Even if I find myself happy at those stations, I depart and try again, many times, because it’s not like I will lose anything if I did.
Some people are too afraid of their emotions. I’m not. Why would I fear to feel if feeling makes me alive? Why would I fear to fall if falling makes me bleed when the wounds will heal and the scars will make me who I am? Why would I fear to risk when risking is how you end up gaining things you never even imagined you would? Why would I fear honesty when swimming in lies has never been a dream of mine? Why would I fear love when love makes every minute of struggle as sweet as honey?
At the end of the line, on my fourth time at Rejection Station, I reached out to a friend who’s on his own journey but always takes time to listen to my heart. I told him I am done, exhaustion’s got the best of me. Falling hard many times is torture. I can feel the bruises, I can see the bleeding, I can hear the voices of despair. “Then stop,” he said, plainly.
Right then and there I realized I wasn’t really done nor exhausted. I just needed to breathe.
Right then and there I realized I still have my core. Though my broken pieces are difficult to muster, each and every piece was still full of life and love. My broken was not my weakness, rather the very strength that allows me to keep moving forward, to keep giving, to keep believing, to keep hoping, and to keep living. My broken is a gift, because it makes me who I am, makes me capable of anything.
In between these stations, I saw you and you saw me too. I don’t know what you were doing there. I myself didn’t plan to be there, but three of my friends unknowingly made it happen.
In that moment I found a sense of relief. The funny thing is this is not the first time we saw each other. I just wasn’t looking when you saw me, and you weren’t looking when I saw you. I guess timing is not always a bitch. I guess timing, after all, can give you everything and more if it’s right.
There was a sense of happiness when our eyes met for the first time, an even more overwhelming amount of gladness when my hand held yours and took warmth, and a euphoric state of bliss when your lips touched mine and together we felt magic. We made magic.
In between your broken and my broken we found solace. In between your sweet disposition and my wild restlessness we found a place of comfort, a place of repose. In between my faith and your doubt we found ground to plant this seed given us that may bloom into something beautiful in time. In between my determination and your passion we created a dimension where we could feel at peace in the not knowing what’s next, only cherishing the now.
In between you and me are the twinkling stars, the full moon, the rising sun, the sinful donuts, the sweet melodies, the random stories, the past heartaches, the many firsts, and the ones we love.
The Elation Station is where hope abounds and love thrives. It is where trust is cultivated and where joy is never hidden. It is where romance can be seen in plain sight and fullness is complete. It is where butterflies leave the stomach and meet the eyes to showcase their beauty.
Oh, the beauty of the butterflies and the beauty of you capturing me. You have no idea how wondrous it feels to be here in this station with you by my side.
One day we’ll leave but the memories we’ll keep. One day we’ll carry on to the next station not knowing what lies ahead. Before that one day, we’ll stay here, so completely taken by every beautiful thing that surrounds us in between the calm and the not knowing.
But let me tell you a secret. The truth is I know.
I know. You know. They know. Everyone knows.