I used to call the poem/song featured in this post “Sunrise”.
It was what I first titled it after finishing the rough draft of lyrics to a random tune that came into my mind in the shower.
It was what I kept it titled as when I read the poetry version, which I decided was the final version, during a poetry reading last semester for National Poetry Month.
It was the title I published it under for
But I decided to rename it. A few minutes ago, as I was rereading it, deciding whether it would be my next upload on MML, I realized it should be called “Mirror” instead. Alright, ‘should’ isn’t the best choice of word – that implies there is a concrete right and wrong way of doing it. And there isn’t. “Sunrise” was a nice title, too. But I realized it didn’t feel right for me.
“Mirror” is better. It nods towards the self-reflective nature of the poem (which I’ll explain at the end). With that, I give you, “Mirror” by Samhi C. (which may be found as “Sunrise” in all previous publications of this poem/song):
The original draft of “Mirror” ended with the second iteration of “I’m a brand new sunrise… from the night”.
When I first wrote this song, despite numerous already heartbreaks, I was adamant that finding my “True” Prince Charming – whatever the hell that meant – was the only way I’d survive in a world where I’m too crazy to be accepted. Except for a handful of people, not many understood me or knew the real me. Whether it be for my moral beliefs, my detest of prejudice and hypocrisy, my straightforwardness (which I always emphasize is my opinion and only an opinion but no one seems to care and so…) often mistaken for disrespect, or simply my personality overall… I don’t know.
Not to mention, I’ve been through my fair share of emotional… I’m not gonna say trauma… The only true trauma I can think of that I’ve ever been through was my wisdom teeth removal – even catching Covid doesn’t scare me as much. And yes, I am exagerating for emphasis, but I do wince at the mention of dentists or at the sound of any kind of drill, so…
No, not trauma, but… turmoil.
That’s the word.
Emotional turmoil.
Plenty of it.
And I thought needed someone to rescue me.
But some time in the middle of my second semester of college, I suddenly realized on day that irrespective of the fact that such turmoil still had not ended and no handsome daredevil on a golden horse came to whisk me off into the sunset, I was not only alive but the happiest I’d ever been. Despite all the heartbreak.
I still cry sometimes… Who doesn’t? And anyone who says they don’t is lying.
But my tears are temporary. Because instead of being terrified that something would go wrong the minute I became too happy, I realized I could just as well believe the exact opposite and live a good life. The minute we feel like life is over is the minute it all changes for the better. Truth is, it’s neither one way nor the other. Life is essentially a mix of good and bad, that come and go alternatively. It’s simply a matter of perspective.
It was in my Intro to Psych class – the one I took in college, not in high school – that I learned about Optimism and Pessimism Biases. We choose whether to believe if all the good balances out the bad or if all the bad balances out the good. Those who favor optimism bias believe in theirselves and blame failures on faulty tests and flukes. Those who favor pessimism bias blame themselves.
Let’s face it – I haven’t blamed myself for anything since I was born. I own up to my mistakes, but I don’t blame myself. Yes, there is a difference, but we’ll get to that another time. For now, my point is, though I always knew there wasn’t anything wrong with me and I did enjoy the good moments in the moment, every time a negative even hit, I’d feel every single other bad thing rush into my head and feel as though only those moments meant everything.
Of course, it wasn’t completely my fault. If you ask me, regardless of aknowledgeing the previously mentioning emotional turmoil is a very real thing, my life’s been excellent otherwise. In fact, at the moment, as I’m lounging on my couch, excited about returning to my college apartment tomorrow, going back to tutoring for the first time after months, about to watch a couple more episodes of Madame Secretary (the show I’ve been binging for the last two days), minutes after laughing at some scene of a new movie with my family, I feel like I’m on top of the world. And still, if you ask me about the most promiment memories I have, most of them are negative. And there are several psychological explanations for why – reasons I still have to and want to research further before finishing school – but for now, I can say, I know this is so because of an article I read in my tenth grade English class. It was on this phenomenon of why relatively happy people as well as their relatively non-happy people, all remember the worst moments in their lives. And I believe it. One of my earliest memories is outside of a programming classroom. What does that mean? Maybe I’ll tell you some day. But for now, all you need to know is that I was only a few months short of three years old, yet I can clearly describe the building I was in.
After conciously realizing that it was a subconcious process that made me dread every bad thing in life, it was a slow process, but I eventually realized life wasn’t that terrible. Even with Covid, even with global political stupidity (not calling out anyone particular, everyone’s too messed up for that), even with economic seesaws, even with abandonning a life I once knew, even with being abandonned and heart broken by the few I cherished (by no fault of their own – the one person I can think of who did so by their complete fault, trust me, is not someone I cherish).
Eventually, I realized that heartbreak only meant I was still alive.
A friend told me that once – and I feel like I’ve mentioned iy before – that for all the shit we’ve all been through, we’re still alive. And if we can make it through life, we can make it through anything.
I also realized there a huge difference between wanting a lover versus needing one. I won’t die without someone to love. But I wouldn’t be truly living a fulfilling life either.
All in all, I realized that at some point, without realizing it, I became someone who conciously knew they no longer needed and only wanted. And as they say, every heartbreak only gets you closer to the one that’s meant to be. Your career, your home, your family, and your love.
It took eighteen and half years, but I finally found the first three. Just have to wait a little longer on the last. But that’s okay. (I’ve also learned a little patience… A little).
So, there you have it. Why “Sunrise” became “Mirror”.
