Chapter 1: The Many Facets of My Being

I find myself embodying numerous silhouettes at any given moment. Often, these identities overlap seamlessly, yet at times, they diverge, revealing my hidden truth: I am not merely one silhouette, but many.

This morning, a memory from the 1979 animated version of "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe" surfaced when someone inquired about my feelings. I struggled to articulate my emotions, sitting in silence for several minutes until the connection struck me.

Years ago, my babysitter introduced that film to us children, and today, I realized I was experiencing the same profound sadness I felt when Aslan surrendered to the wicked witch. The moment they sheared his mane and bound him to the stone table encapsulated a deep sorrow, reminiscent of a fragile egg cracking open—a sorrow rooted in early innocence. For a fleeting hour, I felt that innocence, but then, like a whisper in the wind, it vanished.

I sat at my counter, perched on a bar stool, contemplating Aslan, myself, and the losses we endure throughout life: simplicity, emotion, and the ability to weep. As a child, I felt safe expressing my tears over a cartoon character. Now, I find myself engulfed by a profound loneliness—not that I cannot cry, but rather that I feel society expects me not to.

When I am my most authentic self, everything resonates with meaning. At my most compassionate, I discover significance in every moment. I am deeply emotional; I mean that I am profoundly moved. At times, I feel like a leaf swept along a rushing river, influenced by the world around me, pulled in every direction. Other times, I find myself at my kitchen table at dawn, grappling with feelings I know I won't have the time to address later.

This is my journey now that I have chosen to live without alcohol, pills, or smoking. I am moving forward, inviting the world and its unexplainable emotions to sit with me—creating space for my departed friends, those I’ve hurt, and the relentless flow of life. I cannot articulate it, nor do I need to; I simply nod to passing strangers and continue my day.

I often overlook how much I exist within a protective shell until I shed it like a cicada. It’s only after I have been battered by life’s waves that I recognize its true essence. Pain serves as a lens through which I view existence.

As a child, I relished standing in the ocean, awaiting the next wave to crash over me. It was a test of bravery—could I withstand the might of the Pacific? I sometimes closed my eyes, yet I always stood firm. The waves would strike my head, and the saltwater would swirl in my mouth. Occasionally, I would lose my balance, but I faced my fears. Nowadays, it is uncertainty that seeks to instill fear in me, so I sit with it at my table, as if the ocean’s tumult were falling upon me.

Most of my feelings manifest as memories, coursing like minerals through my bones. I am often the first to experience them and the last to comprehend their depth. Like a familiar scent, they transport me back to a place I once inhabited—a painful echo of the boy I used to be.

These emotions belong to me in a way that transcends mere ownership. They exist beyond my current self. Consequently, I do not contain them; instead, I remain cross-legged within their fog, waiting patiently until it clears. I acknowledge their presence, inhaling their essence, and in the fog, I coexist with them until they finally dissipate.

One morning, years ago, I noticed four shadows cast upon the ground. I froze, waiting for them to fade, but they lingered as if anticipating my invitation. When I welcomed them, they made a promise: "On this vast river of reckoning, we shall not trouble you. Let us accompany you."

I still catch glimpses of my silhouettes from time to time, especially at my kitchen table in the early morning when they are too weary to keep pace. I listen to their distant cries and reflect on the lodgments in my bones. Often, I think of Aslan, and occasionally, tears escape my eyes.

Hey, I’m Roman. I’m currently crafting my debut novel, 20XX, a piece of magical realism. I also share my journey as a writer through vlogs on Substack.

Chapter 2: The Power of Memory and Emotion

In this chapter, we delve deeper into the connection between memories and emotions, examining how past experiences shape our present selves.

Avicii - Silhouettes (Official Music Video)

This powerful video captures the essence of fleeting moments and the emotional landscapes we navigate. It evokes nostalgia and reflection on the shadows of our past.

Silhouettes - YouTube

A poignant exploration of identity and emotion, this video resonates with anyone who has ever felt the weight of their own silhouettes.