Wednesday, May 11, 2011

The Frozen Nun

The smile she plasters on her face is almost unrecognisable. Her eyes, staring at the silly silhouette, frozen. Not brain dead frozen. Frozen standing still with potential thawing as the only sane alternative. Because doing nothing and expecting a different result, or any result at all for that matter, is pretty moronic, not to mention naive. Ignoring all the blinding neon signs is one thing, but choosing not to act on them is another.

And the truth is, everybody lies, but you, lying to yourself, is as big a sin as a nun french kissing a priest. Risky and thrilling at first, followed by annoying awkwardness, confusion, and a recurring feeling of apathy and numbness. And oh, God forbid, loneliness, disguised in black and white, escaping a sacred comfortable convent just because it's not fulfilling anymore.

Because the sky is not always the limit and roses are not always red. The expected can become the unexpected, the known the unknown. And in the middle of all this shuffling, in a playlist of forgotten emotions, you might find yourself remembering.

Vaguely. Remembering what it would feel like not to be frozen anymore.

2 comments:

  1. Could you imagine what bad kissers a nun and a priest would be? It would be terrible, like a steamroller trying to reverse into a Valletta parking spot.

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  2. Now that's a perfect analogy!

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