The Stretch of Seconds It was one of those nights; one of those gloomy, dark nights when time seems to stand still, when your breathing clouds your vision and echoes in the trees’ whispers. A refrain. A song you once knew belts in the distance. You imagine the fireplace crackling, dancing in the kitchen, laughing at pointless jokes. It was simple. Life was simple. You lived it fast, trying to enjoy every moment God had given to you on this Earth. You didn’t believe in God, but you pretended you did. You felt like you should. You weren’t forced into that belief, but you wanted peace and apparently that was where you were supposed to find it: in the reams of stories about prophets, in the tinted sunlight of the cathedral. You prayed. For what, you did not know, but the feeling of your knees on cold stone brought you comfort as verses parted your lips. You were young. You sinned, both worlds were open to you and you treaded one foot in each. Naivety. “You are naïve”. Why is the word so heavy? So judgemental and full of lost meaning? Isn’t it fun to be young and make mistakes you will later cry about, promise not to repeat, but as soon as the pain subsides, redo all over again? Naivety is love. A promise; a promise that you are meant to break. You contortion yourself into positions you would rather not be in to please, to serve a purpose. You love, to be loved. Give what you want to receive. The older you get, the more the word becomes synonymous with pain. “Pleasure is pain”, they say. But the truth is, that in pain there is pleasure. You like pain. You like being hurt, because for an instant it lets you forget all the harm you have brought onto others and wallow in self-pity. For a few minutes you get to hate the world and blame others for all the hardship they have caused you. That is your escape. You don’t like to blame yourself. You blame the weather, your financial situation, your city… but you never blame yourself. Why? Because you are selfish. That’s the tough pill you need to swallow. On every human, greed is tattooed in capital crimson letters. The true, disgusting blurry image of yourself in the mirror. You close your eyes not to see, yelling at your reflection and it yells back. Jealousy follows you like a shadow in mid-day. Invisible, subtle, but present. You were jealous of everything and everyone. You want what you cannot have. That is human nature. Another scapegoat you provide yourself with. In some was jealousy is attractive. It brings out emotions in you which you didn’t know existed. A murderous smile. Possessiveness. You want to be craved, radiating sweet poison like a bonbon in a candy store. You prey on the weak. They are an easy target. You manipulate them, lure them in, giving them a new addiction. Add one to your collection. Tell me about your childhood. How did that one argument you had with your mum when you were twelve over what you wanted to wear to the park affect you in the long run? Do you remember the screams ricocheting off the walls when your dad tried to teach you maths when you were five? Your therapist made you talk about it. Said it will help you form more meaningful connections. It did not, but you didn’t really try. All you wanted was to be perfect, for them more than for yourself. You craved praise. You wanted to make someone proud, anyone, to validate your existence, to tell you that you are not worthless. That you deserve to live. That you deserve to be joyful. That you have a purpose. We love you. “You can be the next Einstein”. You wanted to be Einstein - to be acknowledged. You wanted to be remembered. You were bored of being average like a jack in a deck of cards. You never got to be Einstein. You finished school with above average grades, did well in university, graduated with an honour. Your degree was useless. Nobody cares about your passions. As an adult you realise, you are not meant to love your job. For the next three years you were unemployed. Nobody wanted you. You wandered from one interview to the next, trying to find purpose in life. A meaning.
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