Teardrops and Threads

The crucifix was the first thing I remembered. After that came the dinosaurs, then the celebrities. Segregations of all kinds. Racial division, social classes, the rich and the poor, the obsession over materialism.

It's been over a week now, but more and more information continue to flood my memory. Like a concrete dam designed to control and contain water attaining a minuscule crack. Then that crack, though being insignificant in comparison to the large abyss of grey concrete, is determined to help the water break through its captivity. Slowly but surely, the crack spreads like a spider spinning its web, and indeed, water starts to seep out its prison that they call a dam.

This morning I remembered social media. Crazy how it was absolutely normal for everyone to have multiple platforms with hundreds and thousands of followers. And people shared every insignificant thought or moment of their lives for the whole world to see. 'Freedom of speech' has a whole different meaning to me now.

I have no idea what is happening, but I just know this is something real, something significant. My mind comes up with all kinds of theories on what I've been remembering, why I've been remembering these things and how I've been remembering them. Last week when I was in bed, I remember wishing that I could talk to someone about this, but I know how risky that would be. People would think I'm crazy. As I hid under the covers and closed my eyes in frustration, I couldn't help the tears that seeped down my face.

After shedding that first teardrop, I couldn't stop. I wished and wished to have someone else going through this, someone I could talk to about these memories. I envision myself as a piece of thread, making my way through heaps of fabric. I encounter several other pieces of thread that look like perfectly fine, as if this false world is all they know. I weave myself towards them, urging them to open their eyes and wake up, to remember what was, and what hopefully, will be.