An Unspoken Loss, or Self Proclaimed Truth.

This story isn’t one that requires your ‘deepest condolences’, no, this story is just here for anyone craving to know how something or someone can go from being an average person, the normal girl she’s always been, to the mess she now is. My story has been built upon loss but I refuse to halt construction here. There are things in life that cannot be lost, for instance, my name, Alexis, whereas the person behind the name, she’s been lost for a while, or as long as that ridiculous bracelet’s appearance. Every second, every minute, every hour, passes by like millions of lightyears. A buried story, a buried truth, never heard by man, yet set on a loop in my mind. The truth I would never be able to face, the truth of the unspoken loss.

A loss so great for me yet so small for everyone else, or is it, is it really so miniscule to everyone, or do I make it seem that way? The loss of a dear friend, a dear family member, the person who truly knew me, truly understood me … wait a second, that cannot be right, I barely even know the woman. I never faced the truth, I buried it under anything I could search for, burrowing under any sort of solid ground to not feel that pain. Pain that could correspond with billions upon billions of swords being forced through my own chest cavity, almost six years now, how could I move past such an intense suffering, this in depth doubt and conflict, as if disguising itself in a medieval story book on a dusty bookshelf. Am I to blame for never facing such truths and never accepting the idea that this book would ever be opened, at least I wasn't going to be the one opening it. Never reading into the true meaning, the real story, however I do need answers to this mysterious journey, she isn’t here and has not been for an abundance of years though I feel her presence. The world keeps turning on its axis while I'm standing here as still as a statue hoping for a treasure, the same treasure corroding my insides, eating up every last strand of will left in me, the treasure I haven't even been searching for. Enough beating around the bush, curiosity about this bizarre yet unique bracelet must be rising. Enough pretending I’m actually just talking about a bracelet here and not the person who packaged and brought it right here, in the very room, I’m typing out this story.

Gems that would just shine when in contact with the slightest drop of sunlight. The purest grey blue colour I had ever seen. Whenever I start describing this peculiar bracelet I feel like it’s just exploding with life and humanity. This piece of jewelry just held itself together perfectly, as though it was almost supported by a spine. Where did I find such an irreplaceable piece? That isn’t a hypothetical question, I would love to know how it one day ended up on my bedside table, could it be all the years of thinking the tooth fairy was just a story was the real fairytale? I would have expanded on these thoughts if I hadn’t found the note hidden underneath. Imagine this, imagine at any living moment, always being scared of pausing and not being able to move, being stuck in the middle of all the action, yet being so far from it. The anger that builds up because you know you're going to somehow miss out on something because there is nothing in that moment you could possibly do except perhaps give up on that little hope you had left. Life as we know it is a difficulty as it is, especially with all the madness going on in one's head, my head, this was one of those moments, a moment of pure anxiety. 

As far as I remember, people have told me that my imagination was limitless, I used this to my advantage. I imagined what my mother looked like, how she greeted people and if she had the tiny little dot at the top of her ear, just like I have. It’s funny because my aunt had taken me in as if I were her very own; the Joey to her Roo. Maybe it isn’t that comedic, afterall, she had no easy childhood and no relaxed adulthood,the battles this admirable woman faced is astounding, after years and years of disapproval faced from people close and far, she had been broken down over and over again, but this person decided to push all those issues to the side just to build me a cot and create a life that was just ours, just the two of us. I’ve heard many things about my mother from her being her sister and all. That’s how I know the colour of her eyes but unfortunately, I feel that’s the only factual information I’ve gotten from her. As I mentioned before, I’m happy in this cosy house made especially for the two of us. Though the query still stands, do I miss my mother? May I miss my mother? 

Moreover, the question is, can we face the loss of a person without even knowing what their presence feels like. Yes, At least I can feel it, the exhilarating pain brought through an unwillingly unknown path. My life was a boring average story, sure I had a missing puzzle piece here and there but it never really bothered me much, until this happened, the bracelet appearing was my own mother leaving. Am I just worth a note and a bracelet? Questions continuously circled around my head as if I was in a cartoon and had just gotten hit over my skull, but this note, this was my mothers handwriting, her thoughts, her words, could I finally have found this small bit of evidence, proof that although she's not here with me, she's at least thinking of me in some way, one way. Could this be my mother, the nameless member in my imaginary family portrait? My mother hadn’t been in my life at all, I didn’t even know her name, but that was fine, it was okay, I had my loving aunt, until I didn’t, until I pushed everyone away, because of what, this note and bracelet? If anyone reading this is wondering whether I followed up on the whereabouts and whatnots of the person who left without reason, nor explanation. No I hadn’t, the shock and emotions that pierced through and pained me, did not allow such a harsh reality. I couldn’t continue, this right here is me trying to change, trying to allow myself to feel again.

Extracting this remorseful and apologetic note out of my mind, even though a good apology, this letter to a daughter was not a priority at this point in time. However, I feel as though I have moved one step forward and two steps backwards, this time, I’ll fix things, this time I will do the right thing. One loss is more than enough and this is the path I have to walk through, no shortcuts, no sidestreets, no running, I know there will be many diversions upon this journey but I must commit to pleading my case and apologising to the people who meant the most to me, no, mean the most to me. I must sound like I've lost my mind, and whoever chooses to read this must be questioning the rights I've wronged, specifically what these mistakes were. Although I'm more than aware that my mother's decision to leave was not my fault, the way I treated the entirety of my peers and relatives was indeed my fault and therefore it is my job to own up about everything that was said. The truth of the matter is; my aunt is, and will always be the person I look up to and fully place my trust in, as for the rest of my family... I definitely do not blame you for my mother's decisions to abandon me. In my friends regard, I truly and genuinely apologise for the terribly outspoken behaviour I've portrayed. All I ask for is to amend all this damage.

Although the continuous issue of, overthinking but not thinking at all, like something's always stopping you from saying or doing what you think you should say or do. You pass through millions of expressions as well as experiences mostly bad but I learned from them however bad they were, I’m now educated on how to be stronger and who would always be there, I learned that no matter how difficult the road to getting better is you'll always have someone or in my case, quite a few people remaining in my corner. I know I'm not over this, whatever “this” is but I'll eventually get through it and be able to be your average free person, as if i were the little girl I used to be. I am aware I have asked for more than I could possibly return, though I would appreciate the ability to shoot my shot and just hope I am able to accept the narrative, in which my mother, who similarly acted like an icarus who had flown rather too close to the sun for either the better or worse, one may never completely establish. The person i had waited for all my life, the only one i felt the need for, was officially gone although never visibly present. As angry and frustrated as I was, I've lived well throughout the years, and I am definitely not letting this news or adjustment tear my little family apart, the family that has stuck by me through all my years on this planet. In my books, there was no option but to put this new news to the side for the time being. I could not let the aftermath of this revelation affect all I have ever known, but a part of me will never be the same.

This beautiful trauma, perhaps a controversial statement, nevertheless I insist, my explanation, this personalised view requires a listen, a read, thus, would I call trauma beautiful at first glance? Probably not, nonetheless, as the course of thinking begins, the things trauma could turn you into, you'd see it's more a blessing than a curse, at least for the people who believe in fate and faith alike. Growth, and change, such words are required for the switch into a new era, in which one does not fear for their own lives or the lives of others. Through sorrowful truths, one must require an understanding of the concept in which trauma is absolutely necessary for progressive change. Coming from an island like Malta, having a Catholic upbringing remains ever so important, although I do not personally follow the religion with such strict ruling, nevertheless, treating thou neighbour as you would want to be treated, has always been an aspect of my life which has been placed on a pedestal and idolised. Therefore, this statement, in my belief, should represent the change, we as human beings are so desperately chasing.

We were always supposed to say goodbye, as if god hid the building blocks of every beautiful thing, in this game of hide and seek, I can’t help but think that the ordinary has swallowed the key. Maybe I’m hiding behind metaphors or maybe my heart just needed to break to be sure that one day I’ll have it all, both the sacred and the insignificant, but for now, only poetry can begin to try to describe how I have fallen in love at the cost of my soul.