There is nothing worth reporting in this current phase of life except that all is stagnant. The last thing I want is to catch up with friends or acquaintances and talk about how nothing has changed. Deep connections were either never there in the first place, or they faded due to people changing, different life roads taken, or death.
The recurring dream returns from time to time, and I meet many strangers—students, to be exact. I’m not trying to be friendly with anyone; however, I try to escape the building, which appears to be a large hall of residence of some English university. It’s similar to the other recurring dream where I try to get out of a giant shopping mall. There’s nothing special about any of the people I meet except perhaps the fear that drives me and being curious about who that killer is that’s chasing me. The killer might as well be myself.
It’s either complete silence or The Prodigy in full blast. Or binge-watch Squid Game 2 while fearing the capitalist society as much as the communist one, or sleep till the next day. The problem is that the next day always comes, whether you’re ready or not. I get up as an act of duty. Strangely enough, I care about self-care. I aim to look as stunning as Michelle Reis at 54, if I ever make it past the next 10+ years. Everyone can make some time for self care without it bordering on selfishness, but what if you must cross that border to reach self-fulfilment and make some sense of your existence through art? First, you eliminate responsibility and commitment. Smart people don’t even get involved in the first place.
Heard someone say he had all the qualities a mentally scarred woman sought; these include security, trust, honesty, loyalty, and all that jazz. But she backed off. The truth is that’s not how chemistry works. The nature with mentally scarred people is that they seek what they think they deserve.
It takes longer to get over that pain or trauma than you think. First, the pain becomes a part of you until it defines you for sometime. It can take a decade or two before you’re ready for any kind of stability in life. Most people don’t know that the road of self-healing and self-discovery needs to be a lonesome one. It takes only a moment to make the wrong choice and suffer the consequences. The worst of it all? You weren’t even ready to commit.
Suddenly, there are signs of aging and eczema. The face looks worn-out and exhausted, hair is thinning, and hormonal changes become more apparent. The skin itches so bad that you scratch until it bleeds.
I’ve let out several screams already, thinking that it was all it took, but I was wrong. It takes a different type of action, but for that I’m too much of a coward. It’s not what you think it is; it’s more complicated than that. Perhaps I’ll tell you about it one day. Choices are difficult. Would you either jilt someone or burn the world down?
The problem with being stagnant and not making a choice while the fig tree continues to branch out without you.
