by The Dreamer
the thing about epiphanies is that you get them all the time. small ones, big ones, stupid ones, ingenious ones. you’re constantly realising things, discovering more about life and about yourself and about the way the world works, which can be a comforting feeling or a distressing one, depending on what clicks.
just the other day i had the “epiphany” that my grandma had lost her youngest brother when my uncle died. all this while, in the entirety of my nineteen years, i had always viewed my uncle’s suicide as an uncle that i had never seen before lost or a father lost or a son lost but when his name was casually discussed on the dining table, along with other phrases like “visiting his grave since it’s that time of the year”, hearing my grandma call him “my brother” just shook me to the very core.
disturbingly stupid, i know. perhaps its just me being thickheaded and unable to connect the dots, but such epiphanies do send me reeling from time to time, for inexplicable reasons.
in my two weeks travelling around united kingdoms, epiphanies do come knocking on my door quietly, and most of the time it’s a heartwarming visit. we have nice chats, and i feel good for an hour after, just having monologues with myself and unwrapping the gift which the epiphany had presented to me.
and then i forget.
just like some people have this habit of not finishing their entire glass of water because they believe that the water accumulated at the bottom are mostly just spit (i laughed at this), i have this stubborn belief that moments of epiphanies must be fully revelled in. i’ll soak in every emotion and thought and enlightenment that this moment of realisation brings me, regardless of its lightness or darkness, focus in the way it sends ripples, vibrations, tingles, within me.
by the time this experience is over, i find that penning down these thoughts become very much futile as i have failed to capture its very essence and the words that i have jotted down seem dull and meaningless and empty.
it annoys me to a great extent that this is the case because i do want to remember these epiphanies, to remind a future-me of how past jean’s mind is wired. but then again, future/present jean has never had a penchant for reading anything she’s written previously. (the cringe attack and secondhand embarrassment take over before nostalgia can).
hence, i can only take solace in the faith that these epiphanies have rooted itself in some part of me, subtly altering some fundamental part of me without me even realising it.