things are simple until we grow up and complicate them. we become obsessed about logic. and structure. and perfection. and efficiency. we draw lines and build walls to protect ourselves against others. and we deny. our emotions, our true wishes, our own selves. and eventually, if we are lucky enough, one day we grow “little” again, we dream and move forward. in the end, we must be awesome if we are able to do and feel in so many ways.
it was late when I left the office yesterday. outside, on the sidewalk I paused, looking purposelessly at the empty streets. i felt suddenly empty myself, as if the emptiness of the streets would have been moved within me. and it was not the kind of emptiness you feel after a big achievement or after a very intense moment -although the small achievement of yesterday was actually quite big- but empty of energy, of cause, of desire as if the motor that was driving me has stopped, the Dagny type of emptiness. (Ayn Rands’s main character from Atlas Shrugged). “…as if nothing within me was destroyed but everything stood still”. The street lights were glittering encouraging in the dark. I pressed my palms on my eyes until my senses lost they sharp. I swore to myself that I would make things simple again.
So I have grey’s anatomy marathon for this afetrnoon, my cake, and I will read untill I fall asleep with the book on my chest. in the morning there would be no tension, no pressure, but simplicity and I would fredonate again the words I told to my mam before going for 1 year to Mx: “mam, things are simple. I put a bag on my shoulder, fly a little bit, some people will wait for me there, we learn from each other how to be wonderful, then I come back. This makes me happy”.
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