The Vanity of a Once Lost Person
After all that I have gone through; the pain, the unlawful punishments, and the constant reminder of fears...
I turn to this space.
A space where I can look into the velvet cream boxes and see what I have stored in them.
Even with missing stones and plating washed off, I can still look at them and be reminded of my old life.
One that I hold close to my once broken heart, yet still brings me a smile and even laughter each time I remember the moments when I wore them on my neck, wrists, and fingers.
As I gaze at the remaining pile of cards and little love letters I had received, I know that I have lived.
I have lived a life too wonderful to ever say goodbye to!
This is now the view where I open and lay my eyes every morning and night...
In this much smaller room than the one I had before.
No antique mirrors or clocks to worship my blessed features through...
No vintage yellow wing chair for me to sit down with a glass of drink in hand...
No handmade Persian carpet set to wipe my feet before lying on the bed...
And the bed is only a small one that reminds me of what I have become after the war had ended; all alone.
But even in loneliness, the dried-up bouquet from last year is still in the jam jar which I had turned into a flower vase, wrapped in crumbled brown paper.
It sits behind my small framed portrait and the awards I had acquired through the tears that no one saw.
Every morning and evening when it's time to take the daily dose of my lifelong medication in this room filled with no traces of my home, I get an extra shot of support from the glitzy and glamorous worn-out crystals, watches, fragrances, and make-up on display as I now have nowhere else to go.
No invitations, no calls, no cameras, I guess they've forgotten about me now that I bring nothing but a sickening voice to their ears and a scarred body wrapped in cotton amongst the silks.
Nevertheless, call me the faded star in Hollywood's delusion, and I will still get ready every day when I wake up and before I go to bed.
Not just because I haven't made peace with the current cruel reality, but because I still love myself despite going through so much.
I know that soon, I will make it out and move into a place of my very own.
And I know that one day, this photo of my low-cost vanity will be cherished not for its contents, but for its beholder who refuses to settle for anything less because he's loved himself too much for far too long.
And I know that I will remain eternally at peace with myself for everything that I have chosen to do.
Qadeem Zieman
