On not giving up

Yipee yay way, recess week!


______

"..the trick is," he paused for a moment, re-contemplating what he was going to say before going on to say it anyway, "to learn how to not snap, even when you have to bend."

"To not harden, so that's it?"

"No, no, no," he shook his head in exasperation, "all of us, well, most of us harden over time, upon growing up. That's normal, perfectly normal. A bit too normal for my liking, but well, you get what I mean. But you see, even hard objects have each to their own, distinct characteristics. It's best if you know what type you're going for."

"But, but...," I stammered, my mind too busy thinking to be forming proper sentences. In the end I stopped trying to find something to say, instead I waited until the sentence came to me by itself. "And you're saying, that the type to go is one that is flexible even when it's harden? Isn't that a bit too idealistic? Aside from it's being a possible paradox, you couldn't possibly expect everyone to understand what kind of person they are developing themselves into."

"Correct. The process itself is one that concerns one own self." He nodded grimly. "It's not entirely in your control, even. It's very easy to find yourself being completely overwhelmed; in most cases the sensation of being overwhelmed itself is like a requirement.

"Count in, too, the number of things you have to do outwardly - out there. It's a delicate process, personal, and a very intriguing one, yet we don't really have the time to look at it properly. Oh, if you ask me to list the challenges one by one, I would just recite your entire life minute per minute. The point is, that this kind of thing can be quite, or very, tedious, repetitive and shaming some times, many people could just get tired and stop caring after awhile."

"Let me guess," I interjected, "then they lose further control of their growth?"

He smiled - sweetly and patiently, like how a kindergarden teacher would do when one of his pupil came in a dirty and soiled shirt, yet still managed to look so happy and excited - even if the expression only lasted two good seconds before his solemn expression returned. "Again, yes and no. Sometimes, letting go is the way to go. Sometimes, it just makes one's slip into the vicious stream of mediocrity faster when they found themselves strapped onto the pessimistic side of reality.

"When another one converts into abandoning the beauty of imagination, when one stops questioning just because one cannot stand the burden of mortality - that one limitation that allow humans to truly appreciate eternal enigmas in life - actually I don't know who else grieves over this, but I know I do."

Silence dawned between the two of us. His face contorted into one of sorrow and silent pain, and his voice was weak and soft when he continued speaking.

"It feels like, like losing a rare friend when you're stranded in a vast desert. Like, losing a companion. Those few people you knew you were meant to be with. One moment they are with you, gallantly confronting and applauding a wonderful universe like we do a mind-blowing concert or artsy masterpiece, and the next moment you are a lone traveller once more. Damn transience. You may even start wondering if the journey is truly worthwhile."

I let him talk. I know he liked talking, and how talking helped him come in terms with his own honest mind. At the very least, this was what I can do. Only when he stopped that I asked my next inquiry. "Then?"

He looked away from his feet and up to me. "Then, what?"

"You're still not going to stop," This was one question whose answer I so dreaded. "are you?"

But then he conjured up another smile; a weaker one, yet the warmth in his eyes was convincing enough to me. "Well," he picked his words carefully - something that seems to require an extra bit of concentration for that blunt and honest entity, "if I ever do, then I simply won't be myself anymore, will I, my Dear?"

I knew the time was up. Quickly I flashed back a smile at him, one that I hoped was encouraging enough to comfort him. I wished it was. At least, his own translucent smile didn't falter as he faded out from my sight when we again parted ways. The eternal boy, to his proper dwelling place and me, into yet another morn.