Archive 501
Vivian Galván García
I Am You I Suppose
By Vivian Galván GarcíaMy bag dropped on the floor as the echo from the closed door said goodbye to the moving company. With a heavy heart, I sank into the sea of cardboard boxes that flooded my soon-to-be living space. A loud silence took over the room as I let the weight of loneliness sink in. I was alone, completely alone. Alone in a new apartment with no furniture, alone in a building where I didn’t know my neighbors, alone in a city where I had no idea how to get around in, alone in a country where I barely understood the language.
I questioned my decision to uproot my life and leave my home. I needed a fresh start. A new job, a new social circle. A new environment. A new life…
The pain grew heavy in my chest as I recalled my last moments back in my country. Some were beautiful, like seeing my proud family sending me off to pursue my career, and some were dark and painful like losing contact with people over petty jealousy and insecurities.
I looked around as I took everything in. Nothing like seeing all your belongings packed up in a few suitcases and boxes to put life into perspective. How short, temporary, and insignificant everything is. It’s a little depressing.
Hours later I found myself sprawled out on the floor, my body limp from exhaustion. The wind from the open windows whistled creating harmony in the space.
I needed the rest, I needed to calm my brain, still my thoughts. Maybe it was too much too soon. Everything was overwhelming and taking a toll on my mental stability.
As my body drifted into unconsciousness I fought to keep my eyes open. Blink after blink the room grew darker. Only the glow from the moon reached its skirt through the window.
A few seconds later I found myself in the same room, only it was empty. There was no evidence of life. It felt cold yet comforting at the same time.
I stood up and looked around. Mirrors dressed the four walls around me. Only I couldn’t see my reflection.
Panic took over as I looked down at my hands and relaxed as I saw my body was still there. I still existed. My lack of reflection had to have been some kind of fluke in the matrix. Some joke the universe was playing on me.
I tried to look for an exit but the walls wouldn’t budge and the window didn't seem to lead anywhere.
Strangely the panic never returned. I sat down in the same spot where I had been lying and I felt a sense of calmness I had never felt before. A feeling of nothingness, quiet, and stillness. My muscles relaxed as I felt energy flowing through my arteries and veins.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them back up I saw myself. Only it wasn’t a reflection. She didn’t mirror my movements. She still had her eyes closed. She was me but she wasn’t me. She opened her eyes and through them, I could see a cry of desperation and sadness. She was in a lot of pain.
“Who are you?” I asked as I took her hands.
“I am you I suppose. I am your sadness, your pain, and your grief.”
“You are part of me, aren’t you? The part I have always tried to push away?”
“Yes I am, I carry the echoes of your past, the scars of your struggles, but I also hold the seeds of your strength and resilience.”
“Why do you think I've been trying to push you away all this time? What made me afraid to acknowledge you?"
“Fear, perhaps. Fear of confronting the pain buried deep within, fear of facing the shadows of the past. But you see, acknowledging me isn't a sign of weakness; it's a testament to your courage and strength."
"Do you think I can ever truly be free from you? Or will you always be a part of me?"
"I believe that I will always be a part of you, but that doesn't mean I have to define you. With time and healing, you'll learn to integrate me into the tapestry of your life, allowing me to exist alongside the other hues of your emotions."
I squeezed her hands and pulled her in tightly. The embrace flooded me with a feeling of release. I closed my eyes and felt her absorb into my body. Two parts make a whole.
A loud knock at the door opened my eyes. Again I found myself in the middle of cardboard caos. It was now morning and I was still on the floor. The interaction with myself now existed as a blur in my memory, fading away as dreams do. But unconsciously I felt healed. I felt light and inspired as if the chains attaching me to my past had released my soul.
The knock came in again, my furniture was here.