Epiphany (Blur Continuation)

We were assigned to write another memory piece related to the first one (which I also posted up.) This one includes Jessie, who was with me that night.

Because I expected my body to feel discomforted and solemn, I stayed at a friend’s house, hoping to be distracted from the pain I knew I would feel. It was July 11th of 2010, the eve of a whole year gone by that Pia had not lived. Jessie and I stayed up until one a.m. simply expressing our passions for other subjects, things we had never talked about before. She whipped out her sketchbook, and asked me if she could draw me.

I knew my face was not the same; I had not been the same all summer. You could see the suffering under my eyes, where black circles slowly grew. My mouth no longer carelessly lifted into a smile as it had before; it took effort to appear as though I had not been hurt. Despite the changes in my face that I worried would scare others, I asked her if she really wanted to draw the face of change.

But Jessie decided that she wanted to draw me and my complications, and so she did. She instructed me to close my eyes and relax, to not think about my surroundings. I did as I was told. I relaxed, letting my hands slide down to my side, allowing my eyelids to slowly shield my eyes from the world. I permitted my face to loosen and be in its natural state. I let my body be at its neutral position while sitting upright, thinking of how she sees me.

I wondered ‘Has anyone noticed a change, or is it only me because it was mostly internal? Surely, someone must have discovered the new Mimi and how I have behaved for the past two months.’ I felt the room get darker and more serious, and when I opened my eyes an hour later, the fog that covered the truth no longer blinded me. I could see the reality, rather than an illusion. Before, all I had seen was a room to sit in and mourn in, but after my epiphany, I saw it as an opportunity to live.
We went to bed shortly after, both exhausted from the work we did physically and mentally. I dreamt a dream that could only mean something colossal. I was walking down a street, and passed by faces I knew; I did not say hello or good day, but I didn’t feel the need to. I can only hope that was a sign of my emancipation, a sign that I was finally absolved of the weight I carried, crying day in and day out. That dream meant that I no longer felt the need to appear joyful or cheery because it wouldn’t be an effort. I could genuinely be blissful and not worry about others’ perception of me.

The next morning, Jessie titled her drawing “Mimi Sleeping.” I could not tell her that I was not asleep; I could not say that that hour was actually the most awake I had been in so long. It was the hour that changed me back again. It only took thirty seconds to transform me into the deplorable monster I had become, but over time my monstrosity grew and I needed more than thirty seconds to be cured.

People say that drastic realizations cannot come overnight; I disagree. Not only can they come overnight, but they can come in an hour. There was nothing to provoke or justify my actualization; it just happened. Everything just happened.

There’s not much that I remember of that night simply because the most important thing that occurred was so internal. It was like a wave of consciousness rolled over me and took over my body, pulling me into the regular tide of the real world. I could swim with everybody else, although I was just learning, but I could do it. I learned how to float, how to survive; now it was time to progress.