Have you ever wondered what was the reason you got out of bed every morning?
I did, but I couldn't give you an answer. It comes with the sobering clarity that I never really lived my life the
way I wanted it to be.
When your breath is squeezed out of your lungs like blood out of stone, it makes one step back to look at things with a different perspective. I had spent about twenty years rushing ahead and chasing blindly and now I am stuck at crossroads, stranded in between somewhere and nowhere. Lost in the echoes of another time and place, I cling onto what I know is familiar. But I now know that it is time to let go.
My whole life is a performance - I do things for people. In summation, I am the infinitive verb, 'to serve'. I wanted to be that girl who could make you happy - as a daughter, a friend, a lover and I tried to be good enough but therein lies the paradox - the ideal will not be reached; you will never be enough.
I am bone weary of jumping over hurdles of inadequacy and insufficiency. I want to do things because it made me happy, because I wanted to. As egocentric as all of this sounds, I just want to be.
I had a cigarette just now. Which is not a good idea because my breaths are coming shorter and shallower but I did it because I wanted to. So if I close my eyes and die in my sleep, at least I am comforted by the fact it was a choice that was wholly mine.