|even if I dont know how theyre invented, beautiful things keep appearing in the world.|
(viii. jealousy and the fishes)
The Doctor has gone, but I remain still awake. My tears have fallen, but it is certainly no ocean. Its not even a puddle. And tears help wash away words; they dilute my nightmares. I am too happy to worry anymore about them. Sadness is for history books.
The Doctor has made me a strange present of this ring, and yet I had nothing to give to her in return. I can only hope that she is not angry with me. I know that she believes that love has a lot to do with exchanging presents and remembering dates. Although I cant schedule when, I promise that when I do finally invent true love, I will come back for the Doctor. There is no one in this world who would benefit more from love.
My eyes are still wet long after the Doctor has left. Tasting the salt that has dribbled down my cheek, I think again of the sea. It amazes me that so much life can live in an ocean born from tears. Yet this only shows me that, even if I dont know how theyre invented, beautiful things keep appearing in the world. I must be jealous of the fishes!
Im sure most people are jealous of the fishes, though. In this sea of misunderstandings, the fishes continue to swim happily. They float so easily in the rapids, the lakes, and the oceans. They maneuver the current as if life itself flowed around them. And as quickly as they hurry and pass through their watery existence, there is endless more sea to touch their fins. I envy, too, that the fishes never feel the need to sleep. They must be so happy that they never want to shut their vision of the world. Not even for a moment. I, too, want to face the world with open eyes.
At the same time, I wonder also about the seashells. They look so happy on the shores, like stones, not caring about the rest of the world. The tide pulls them in and throws them back endlessly. Yet the seashells dont seem to mind at all. How willing they are to be moved, if only for the benefit of another. I wonder if they believe that the world itself is the one in motion. Or else, seashells must have such profound dreams that they never want to wake up. There is something in their sleep that the seashells will not let go. They wont open their eyes not even to see the world, not even for a second. Although it is tempting, although this is what Id thought I wanted, I dont think I could be a seashell. I want, if only for a short while longer, to open my eyes.
So I am undecided like you, perhaps? I remain waiting here at lands end. Still I am unable to choose. I linger on, neither sleeping nor swimming in bliss. But as I lay awake in this hospital bed, I am still not tired. I will waver some time longer to find a place in the world, be it that of eyes or of dreams.