How Would It Be As An Elsa In Real Life?
Elsa woke up this morning being tightly wrapped up in the cold. Her back stayed still on the rumpled bed, eyes lazily torn open, silently staring up at the emotionless ceiling for so long it seemed as though the ice tips hanging over the bare roof started to grow downwards to her face and nearly touched her pointed nose. Her entire body felt paralyzed, while her soul was shivering hard like a little chick lonely in the rain. The freezing cold did not come out of her own out-of-earth superpowers, but from the fears of not being “perfectly normal” on earth.
It was May. The spring was expected to arrive safely in town, but somehow it managed to postpone its trip and duck behind the curtain of snowy and gloomy sky. The road was icily wet, the grass was drooping heavily, and the glass window was weeping uncontrollably the dull tears of mentally collapse. There were days in our lives when just carrying a cup of tea could be so difficult that the shaky hands felt like dropping down; just walking across the bedroom could be so much of a task that the wobble legs failed to accomplish; just holding back heavy tears could require too much strength to be able to succeed.
With all the strongest power left inside, Elsa willed herself to pull together and get out of bed. She hugged herself tightly in her arms, dearly held together all the broken smithereens scattered in her soul. She gave out a huge weary sigh, and in spite of herself, slowly curled up her lips into a tiny smile. “Let it go, let it go,” whispered a voice to her ears. A nicely-composed melody slipped through her mind. Elsa gently closed her eyes, humming the song of heart and soul. Never before had she realized how bad she had been at loving herself.
“You are completely abnormal!” That was what people often told her. “Just be real! Be normal!” Voices echoed in her ears. Painful memories flashing back made her cringe with mortification. She had always felt terribly lost and left out in her whole life. She used to be perfectly transparent and beautifully authentic as a child, unaffected and pure as we all were before we learned the universally accepted ugly “truths” - the truths of the haters’ eyes. The moment she let them in, sadly, was the beginning of the imprisonment course of her life.
Little had she known, she would be abandoning her soul, covering her power, wearing masks all over and pretending to be one of “them” - one of “us all”. She belatedly realized she had been too aware of the others’ thoughts, too focused on the others’ views, too scared of the others’ opinions, and too easily affected by the others’ energies. She failed to protect herself from insensitive judgements, to realize her own charming beauties, to embrace her gifted flaws and to cherish her unique characteristics. While trying so hard to hide, she buried her light under the shade of others.
“Look how crazy she is!” People used to laugh at her. “Come on! Stop being a stupid freak!” Elsa would discreetly jump inside with a wild thud, her soul churning and shrinking as people were pointing callously at her and murmuring disapprovingly. With her tail between her legs, she abruptly realized she had carelessly slipped herself out there off the leash, and inadvertently let her odd tail wag gaily for a split second. The laughter of the audience brought her back to earth, straight and still. She immediately regretted being too happy and comfy and enjoying herself among people to remain in control of the “perfectly normal” image she had been trying so hard to build and perform.
Taking off the mask she had been wearing for such a long time she almost fooled herself into thinking it was real, Elsa looked at the reflection of her overripe cherry eyes. She was crying the whole night, frantically searching for possible answers. It was hurt anytime the world told her how much she was so “her”. What was wrong with being “her” if that was completely harmless to the world? Not to mention that could even make the world a better place. She had always known from the bottom of her heart that her superpowers could do magic on people’s lives in numerous positive ways, and brighten up the dreary winter days with pure joys and excitements.
What was “normal” anyway? She had been asking herself this question for a zillion times and still unable to find a sensible answer. Everyone was unique. We were all destined to be different since the very first moments of our own lives. Throughout the course of an individual life, not a single moment could be identical to the next ones. So what could be considered as the standards of being “normal”? How could anybody tell if this person was more normal than the other? She desperately wanted to be as “normal” as the most normal person would be, she just could not figure out what that was supposed to mean.
She decided, as a poor consequence of not knowing how to act properly, to simply freeze herself in front of people. She told herself determinedly, “Just stay expressionless. If nothing was shown, nothing worse could happen.” It might sound like an easy task to complete, but it actually was not, especially for Elsa, who was blessed with an amazingly animated disposition. Elsa slid her fingers into the nice-looking protective gloves. Her skin started to prickle with unbearable discomfort, her spine run hot with uneasy restlessness. Elsa’s lively and cheerful soul was screaming silently yet painfully inside her shell. This is brutal torture, and she could not hold it any longer.
Elsa quivered as the memory of that day briefly rewound in her mind - the day a part of her had been savagely ripped apart and revealed to the public, being incredibly exposed and vulnerable. She had been frightened and run away, curled up in her lonely world. She could then lift up her chin proudly and rebelliously, be herself and live her life the way she had always thirsted for. “I need no one. I do whatever I want,” she remembered thinking. But was she happy? Could this isolated world heal her wound? Could this freezing freedom mend her broken soul?
No.
Was it not too obvious? The false carefree world she was trying to build, ironically she realized only then, would freeze its queen to death. How could it be freedom if its master was exiled and prisoned? How could it be happiness if it was built upon a foundation of fears and fragility? This was not going to be a happy ending, just like this. She knew she was trembling in the dark. The poisonous thorns still remained inside, scratching her soul mercilessly, leaving her bleeding and sinking deeper and deeper into toxic obsessions. There should be something better. She could do better. Perhaps, it was time to make a turn. It was time to shine, not to hide anymore.
She ran her fingers through her messy morning hair, and placed it firmly in a bun. She opened her eyes and, for the first time, recognized her feebly wounded soul through her depressing reflection. “Shift your focus. Trust yourself,” whispered an inner voice. Gently, she decided to give her looks a good smile, her soul a warm hug, and her heart a sweet kiss. She had run away from her own self for such a long time, then it was high time she let go the imaginary fears, stood up strongly for herself, and infused her soul with all the dearest love and affection she deserved in this life. “Don’t be afraid. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She took a huge breath and exhaled sharply. “Accept yourself first and the world will follow.”
Åland, 06.08.2021
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