Last week I picked a chair at one of the neatly organised desks and folded some paper, so I could write numbers in columns. Soon after, the numbers blurred away when my eyes started daydreaming.
I was sat there, looking out the window, where the wind was free and he led the leaves to their destination. I shouted after him, but the glass was soundproof. I wanted to catch him, but my fingers were stuck by glue.
Why didn’t I feel content when I’d chosen this room myself?
I looked around me, at the people bent over the desks. Nobody saw it, nobody listened. I made everything up in my head. Again.
I looked at the people and I envied them. Their simple minds, simple jobs, simple lives. They’re grateful for their jobs. They’re happy to be alive, surrounded by the loved ones. That’s all what mattered.
What is there that I’m looking for? Bored already by the plainly written words on the folded sheet of paper. What is there?
I look in the mirror and I see my face. I know what it looks like. I know my name. I know where I was born. But I still don’t know who I am.
Once, I was told that I was just a tramp. Trash. Nobody.
I believed them.
I’ve been struggling my whole life to believe that I am actually worth something. I feel unwanted and pushed down to the bottom, despite my skills and knowledge I meticulously acquired. I feel unworthy everyday.
Every day I swim in the oceans too heavy for my soul.
There once was a drop of water, who had lived on a small leaf near to the ground. She spent there all days disappearing silently into the air at night and appearing again in the morning as dew. Always sitting on the same leaf.
One day, the wind whiffed low and gently brushed the leaf with the drop of water on it. The wind stopped there swirling around.
‘What are you doing here, drop of water?’ he asked.
‘I live here, that’s my home,’ she responded.
‘Why is that? Shouldn’t you flow with the stream?’ the wind couldn’t understand.
‘No, it’s dangerous,’ she said.
‘Shouldn’t you pour down with the rain?’
‘No, that’s too much risk.’
‘Shouldn’t you create waves together with the ocean?’ the wind kept asking.
‘But… I’m scared.’
‘Why are you scared of who you are? Stream, rain, ocean… these are what you’re meant to be.’
‘Of course, these are what I’m meant to be. I am water. I could be anywhere. I just choose to be nowhere,’ the water said and hid behind the leaf.
I’ve fallen into a rabbit hole. Everything seems like a dream, except for everything is true.
And everything I wanted to be true now is in limbo. I don’t know what to do because, whatever I’ll do, I know I won’t be satisfied either way. That frustrate me so much that I want to run away far away, where I can’t read and listen and see anything that is unwelcome by my inner self.
That’s my life now.
Why has it happened when I started understanding things and wanting things to be my way?
Because I wanted everything at once and now I have to pay for it.
I look at the time, feel it escaping from under my feet. The ground full of dull colours tries to tie my legs, so I run through the forest of leafless trees. The crying branches painfully cut my skin and squeeze my body in their strong grips. I feel like I can’t breathe… The deck of cards is after me, wanting to suck the paint out of me.
What is your first thought when you wake up in the morning?
Where am I? How long have I been here? Who am I going to be today? Who am I going to be for the next five years?
I wanted to be someone new. Someone whose life is exciting and full of adventure. I’d dreamed of my new life every day, pictured it in details and couldn’t wait it to be true.
Everything had been drawn. Everything had been planned…. Everything fell from the cliff into the wild sea I wanted to feel in my heart.
Now I’m standing on the edge. Torn. Either I step back into the comfort of the soft grass or jump to catch my dreams. It’s only a nanosecond and suddenly I find myself calling after the wind who takes everything.