There are days when it gets a little too much. You yearn for some space from all of it. By now you feel like you had enough, which is pretty strange since you are supposedly taking it all in, getting high from the rush it gives you. Admit it — the ego boost is still something that keeps you a part of it all, perhaps might be the very thing that holds you hostage from all the sense remaining in your system.
There are times, though, when you feel like you’re at your best, such as now. You genuinely believe that this is something you could really do without. For years, it has been the motivation behind every day, never mind how nonchalant or unassuming you pretend to be. It has been a huge factor in every decision, every minute action. Frankly, you think it is such a huge waste of time, energy and the rent space in your head.
Feeling like yourself has now become an achievement. Whenever you do, you make a decision to stay put and let this warm feeling burn in your skin. By some absurd twist of fate, however, this only attracts what you have been trying to avoid. It is something so irresistable, so enigmatic — you transforming into the epitome of indepedence.
However, whenever you decide to take a leap and plunge into strange waters — depends on the situation, whether you are just inches or completely skyrocketed off the ground — you risk, you depend again, you tempt gravity. It is only customary to give up autonomy in order to accomodate. Unfortunately, all instances of you doing so made you lose yourself, and lose them in the process. At this point you aren’t sure anymore if your sappy, domesticated alter-ego is really that bland and mediocre, or if you have just been barking on shallow, insecure trees all your life.
And so, once again, you decide to cut off all ties. Not just for your sake, but theirs. You are aware that this is the ultimate encouragement, for it profits on the number one human flaw: insatiability. We will always want what we can’t get. Even so, you don’t care. You are just exhausted, and perhaps much screwed up, but more exhausted, really. You realize there is really no point in playing the field if, truth be told, you’re more interested in occupying the bench, staying warm by yourself reading a good book or sketching another story.
Unless, of course, a stray baseball smacks you right on the face. This time, you know you’ll have no choice but to look up, and start paying attention.