Fly high Angel

I've realised that, people's opinions only have a say if they matter to you. The reason why even one person's opinion matters is because they can spread it to another person, and that person could spread it to another 10 people, and at the end of the day you'll have crowds labelling you many things that resulted from someone espying a single incident. But if they all don't matter to you, then there's that, their words don't matter.

It's a lot easier said than done. Labels are so powerful because of how highly we regard reputation, and this is especially so for people we don't know. It is the gossip you wear that precedes you and makes a first impression even before you smile and shake a stranger's hand; word gets around even to the darkest corners of the Earth. Sure they might dismiss the claim after a brief interaction that dissuades such notions, but they might also not, and it's still disturbing how intimately one can (supposedly) know someone you don't know.

We unconsciously seek out such information as a form of protection, even if we don't actively source for it. If we deem it somewhat useful as we are able to shape it to address potential needs, we retain it even if it currently has no value or may consequently never have value, just on the per chance that it might. And that chance is very little, and most of the time these tidbits we squander for ourselves are just the reason we crave control even more. But if we think about it, these are no more than pieces of another's vulnerability, and the only reason we keep them is because they are rare. When was the last time you saw someone cry on the street? Society hides vulnerability away like it's meant to be kept in the shadows, but all that does is create more incentive to reveal it; and therefore really makes people weak, because we're all just trying to outdo each other.

It hurts because we don't like to view each other or ourselves as less than imperfect, but the truth is we are. We are flawed and we are conceited and we are manipulative and all of those things. We harm more when we don't intend to, because there is something particularly painful about nonchalance, like salt scattered on a wound that makes sure the scar runs not only skin deep but in our minds. Harmless phrases such as 'be realistic' from the most important of people, or when someone brushes themselves off after giving you a hug; no matter how inconsequential we think it, fester like an ugly sore amidst angelic smiles and soft touches, crushing us a little more on the inside day by day. More than hurt, we feel insignificant in the eyes of our people, we feel discounted, misunderstood and a deep want to explain ourselves, drowned out by the overwhelm others caused, intentional or not.

And in truth, we are. Insignificant, relatively to the world and nature and the universe. What are we as compared to the moon, or the sun, or the sea and the stars and the sand that have been here ions before us? The swell of humanity is admirable but it could never match the undulating waves by the shore, we are mortal and with time we'll be swept off existence, barely leaving footprints on the sand of all known. The string of lights we create will never match the radiance of the moon and try as we might, we'll never be as graceful as the wind. They've had centuries to perfect their craft, and they would have centuries more after we fade from the surface of the Earth.

But it hurts more to be insignificant to another compared to being insignificant to a celestial entity, especially when they've played a large role in our lives. As humans, we are also kind and caring and loving. We were made to connect, to console; our fingers slot perfectly against each other and pretty hands circle dainty wrists. We fit like puzzle pieces when we hug, heads burrowing snugly into the crook between the neck and the shoulder. To escape the notice of the stars is one thing, but to matter not to your best friend is another. People want to feel important, they want to leave an impact on various domains of life, work, relationships, family; much like a firm hand pressed on an arm, the warmth soaking through thin clothes. And despite how close the two of you may be, cursory remarks, or even a flippant tone at times, may display a surprising lack of consideration.

How can we be so careless with one another knowing how limited our time is? How do we have it in us to hurt, to treasure pieces of other people's weaknesses even though we should be filled to the capacity with love? It's not that we aim to be dismissive, nor do we really wish to put others down. Due to our mortal inconsistencies we make decisions to the best of our ability, but we may possess imperfect information or a temporal lapse in judgement. This results in a less than perfect decision made once in a while , even regarding those we consider precious.

Perhaps society also has high expectations of us. We know not to ask about a friend's father when their absence in the house is too pronounced, but we fail to catch her winces everytime we bring up dads in a conversation. Are we to tread softly no matter where we walk, despite the urge enough to jump and bounce around boisterously? There is no telling when something we say could potentially hurt another, especially if we do not know them well. Life would be a lot simpler if there was a siren blaring, or a warning sign, but the absence of it simply means we are unable to prevent it, and inevitably, we will hurt people around us and be hurt by them too. Like everything, interaction has a balance and there can be good encounters, and bad ones with all kinds of people.

So fly high, angel. The shots that graze your wings are not always meant to hurt, and if you try hard enough, you'll realise that the wind around you is warmer than the cool bite of the bullet in your shoulder.