My world is, or was, in its glamorous ways, perfect; magic within desire, desire within magic.
Neither life nor death could rob me of this magic, of this pompous veil of secrecy-I did not know-I was shrouded from my beginnings; hidden away from the world, of the light that corrupts and depletes identities of the mind. I was hidden away from the light. I grew up in the dark, slowly building my perception of the world. This world, full of ambiguity struck me as fascinatingly beautiful, in which I form a truth of my own; hope, love, and optimistic beliefs that all of the world were full of this grayness that surrounded me so entrancingly.
And how I was wrong.
Wisdom grows within the years. Strength nurtures after the countless journeys of blindness within ambiguity. And a simple switch lies before me, the very switch I had swore never to touch as I had been told that it shall unleash the hungry floods of demons into this world.
But how is one to fight against its own burning desire to validate one’s truths? Its curiosity sensibly draws me near and inevitably, I flip that switch.
The bland light consumes and devours me in its eminence. I suddenly come to realize the vile world of primitive colours of red, blue, and yellow; they destroy my greyness, painting in layers until no appearance of what used to be, disappeared. They destroy my ambiguity, my truth, leaving me as a carcass, only with desire-desire left to prove that love was never false.
And so I wander in the dimly lit hall of candles, seeking for a way to fulfill my desire in this world that burns me with its absolute hatred. Each stranger I meet, I seek for their compensation, their pity, and their kindness; the ones that do not know of my past and my sin: The desire to speak the truth that ought to be my truth…
But weren’t the ambiguities true after all? Who rightly decided that to be grey is a sin?
What is the fault to speak, to believe in what ought to be the truth in such world of desires and hostilities?
Whence was it agreed that the lights must be followed? Why cannot the ambiguities of my mind be not the truth of your world?
So I set off, away from the daylight and into the night; it was a calling, I recall, that my soul had responded to.
As I wretch in this darkness of my own ambiguity, consumed by its desires, I vow:
I will not cease to believe.
I will fight and shed blood and tears to prove to you all,
I will gladly die if it means to preserve this magic in what you call delusion.
My truth shan’t be silenced with your primitive colours, and I shall die defending it.
And open your eyes after you annihilate me; You shall find yourself entrapped in the magic blossoming from deep within your heart.
And perhaps you will understand my war against that desire…
Let ambiguity surround you.
It was after I had watched The Streetcar Named Desire for the third time when I encountered a call from within to write this. The very first time I watched this show, I was terribly horrified by Blanche’s fate, but also mesmerized. I somehow managed to find an equilibrium of love and hate for a character, and so I watched the show a second time to grasp the life of Blanche. And again I found myself entranced by her, leading me to watch it for the third time. By then, I could hear Blanche screaming in my ear, “I tell what ought to be the truth , and if that makes me sinful, let me be damned!”
The more I watched the show, the more I emphasize with this statement, the desire to live within what ought to be the truth, no matter what the consequence may be. I believe that we are all in a way living in a delusion; some entrapped in the delusion of society, and others, like Blanche, in their own desires. Truth, is a misconception to many, as what one perceives as true, may be the fallacy of another; therefore, truth can be stated as a perspective one upholds that defines their life. Truth is not identical, nor universal-it is greatly versatile and malleable with a simple change in the individual that ponders upon its concept. Then who has the right to disrespect and dismantle another’s truth and label them as delusional? A truth accepted by a majority is simply put a common perspective on a certain concept, which could then also be delusional, as Stanley would have said.
What I admired in Blanche’s character was not the tragedies that struck her, but her willingness to uphold her ambiguity, which in fact is her truth. She welcomes any punishment and cruelty that may consume her if she were to live under her own light, in the grayness. This spirit of perseverance is undoubtedly powerful; Blanche goes so far as to completely lose her mind to protect her truth. Her obsession with desire for love, causing her to forsake the societal norms to seek consolation from others, created a delusion which she believes is true; this is indeed the beauty of human stubbornness. How often do we give up what we thought to be true and give in to what is presented to us by others? How often do we let society run its course and kill our individuality? How often do we let our perspectives be disrespected in the face of the widely held prejudices that demand we accept the “truth’?
I am a firm believer in the potential of each and every individual and the love that resides within each and every moment in their lives. And I am not naive enough to think that the world I live in shares this ideology. Nonetheless, it is still my truth in every aspect of my life, and I shall embrace this truth no matter what the consequence may be. Even if I lose grasp of my senses, even if others berate me as delusional, even if I shall commit the greatest sins, I will fight and I will persist. I will uphold my truth so high in my own heart for all to see, and none shall ever make even a scratch in my world of gray.
One may perhaps deny and vow to destroy my truth to bring me into the light of society and its norms. But it is when they succeed in doing so, when they see my truth in the open light without ambiguity, they will come to find themselves entrapped in their own truth as they open their minds to what they see within, affected by the monstrosity of human struggle they shall see before their eyes. When will we realize, once and for all, this very fact of life: truth is neither a law or a concept, but a manifestation of one’s convictions of their bare minds.
We choose what we see. We choose what we hear. We choose what we understand.
Therefore the importance lies in not the ability to conceive one’s truth in others, but the ability to grasp the truth of others in ourselves to create a mirage of truth that is furthermore sophisticated and represents the state of our bare individuality. Hopefully, one day you will come to understand my ambiguities, and let your own truth be vulnerable enough to allow the cracks of grayness to find its way into your heart. But until that day, I shall always tell what ought to be the truth, no matter what adversities that may stand in my way.
Let ambiguity surround you.
and magic shall blossom in your heart.