You know what I would find more than anything? Fucking tears. Tears of joy, sadness, frustration and bliss.
I would stand there, behind the fucking counter and sigh the boring day away. Then it would come in. A little monkey magnet thing. A little stuffed animal with magnets in all its four little paws. Like the one I lost as the mall when I was super young. It wouldn’t be the same one I had all those years ago, but it would be exactly like it in every way. Almost 18 years old the stupid thing would be.
I would only be able to look at it, tears welling up in my eyes. You know, that day, I learnt that there are things we lose that we never able to get back. It was the first day I think I ever felt like I didn’t have control over some aspect over my future. Those thoughts lead to the dreams where I wonder if my parents would die and I would never see them again. That if something happened, I would just have to powerlessly let them go. It lead to the night terrors that kept me up at night, the idea that I would have no ability to stop my own disappearance. That’s the real reason why pain hurt a little more than people thought it should, or I would cry a little longer than people thought I should. It was fear or lack of control. Knowing my fate was imminent. That I wouldn’t be able to protect what I want, fight for what I desired. In that one moment my confidence shattered, not because I lost a toy. But because I had no control and had to accept circumstances. This became my attitude facing the rest of life.
Seeing that stupid monkey in my hands, I would have realized that even though there are things you can’t control, that doesn’t mean you should write off everything. There aren’t things you can’t control, but there are things that you can. That something may turn out alright. Now, I’m not just talking about hoping or wishing on a star, but working at something can have pay offs. Though not everything ends the way you expect it, sometimes you just have to not give up.
Then a little child would come sniffling to me, looking for their monkey. I would make a sad face at the monkey, then at the child, knowing that who it belonged too. I lay the monkey in the child’s hands. They skip off, running away, happy as a clam. I think about all the people I didn’t say good-bye too in their last moments, all the toys, relationships, and other things I broke because I lacked attentiveness. And more importantly, care. I realized that, care. For the world, and for others, shared mutually, would be what make things work. If we all took the time to care for us, for our world, our land, for each other, and pay attention to the little details, we might find what we are looking for.
(I mention my greatest fear in here somewhere, and this is definitely my style, so… yeah. I’m not lazy. Shush.)