Another day ends.
Drained of all energy, but somehow making the effort to climb the last few stairs leading up to my home. The last three years come and flash past my mind, a curious mix of emotions, experiences, and time. Not a day has passed in these years when my thoughts have let me be at peace. The story that should’ve been playing out right now is yet to commence. I keep waiting, and trying.
What did your dreams tell you last night? A fantasy yet to be lived, or maybe a memory of the past? It felt so real that you just knew you could touch it, but were afraid lest you turned out to be wrong. Remember? That time when you woke up half wishing what you saw was real, only to realize before you woke up that it wasn’t? I have those dreams. It matters, though, that they come more while I’m wide awake than asleep. Queer, wishful, or crazy- take your pick. This is how my life is, or rather what it has become. Or should I say, what I’ve made of it.
Has there been a time in your life when, in retrospect, you knew you should’ve done something but didn’t? When you were so sure that simply by taking a walk through the woods, you’d find the meaning of your life, but didn’t do it because you were too scared. Of maybe failure, impending doom, a tragedy so massive your life couldn’t possibly recover from it? What were you putting at stake- dreams, desires, hopes, the promise of a better tomorrow, even your sanity? Was it worthy of a leap from a life of mediocrity to a life of promise… or of failure and possible eventual resurrection?
Why do I find it so hard to jump today? To take this walk into the woods, heralded by (what seems to be) the genie in the lamp I’ve been looking for all along? Is it fear, or cowardice? What have I to lose? I have nothing with me to hold on to. Why, then, do I hesitate- Feeling hope and weakness at the same time? What if this time passes me by, just like yesterday? Leaving in its wake only a hollow soul, bereft of life, holding on to this shell called me.