It is Sunday morning. The weight of the world is crashing me down as if I did not belong to it. The sky is not the limit but looking at it seems so out of reach. It does not make me feel any better. I carry myself out of the bed and feel the warm sunlight washing over me through the windowpane near my study desk. I gaze up at the outside and the scenes of people and activities begin to flash through my head like memory snapshots. The atmosphere out there looks so promising that it set me up for the day to go outside. I have somewhere to go later on, to meet people, talk, and relish in the food they cater and break off my mundane morning rituals. I do not have any worries about meeting the deadline, showing up on time to my demanding boss, or taking care of rowdy kids and so on. My life is easy on the street. Yet, sometimes I feel out of place but not always.
It is the festival day. I get inside the car. I sit in the backseat, pull out my earphones, and untangle the knot. Admittedly, It is a part of my daily struggles that brings me to lose my patience over every little minor inconvenience that happens to me. Next, I browse my go-to music and zones out. The piercing voices from passengers nearby completely drown out the yelp and yowl of Alanis Morissette whom I am vibing to. Distracted by the chatters, all I could ask for is a moment of peace and serenity. The escape from the hustle and bustle of people never fails to cross my mind. Do I always feel this way? Sometimes but not always, I suppose. If life was one hell of a ride, I would throw up as soon as it pulls away since I could not stand the idea of motion sickness. I am not ready yet to experience everything all at once. There is so much to deal with in life and I am out here complaining about people ruining my main character moment.
I step out of the car and meet with the enthusiastic welcome of the people. My presence returns as soon as I am exposed to them but do they really know me, deep down? Do they notice the person that I have become? I wander inside the house and scan through the lifeless old photographs that are framed for so long that they all have already gone dusty. Most of the furniture is beginning to look shabby but a sign of high maintenance in them does not lie. However, ten years from now on, they would probably end up in a landfill. They would eventually be replaced with the new ones. Likewise, my memories of this place have been eroded by time. I used to run around this house like a child who got a hero's welcome after getting "A"s in the exam. I have been in this street doing all kinds of fun with people I care about. Now they are gone so far from here. Those days were merely a series of distorted flashbacks that could never be retrieved. I see the old me at the front porch posing for a group photograph without any knowledge of how people perceived me or the life I was living in back then. I miss that blissful ignorance sometimes but not always.
I join the conversation with the people in their living room. I absorb the warm cozy atmosphere of the compact room but the next thing I know, my presence is left out in the cold. I listen to their words and feelings anticipating if there are any questions coming up about me. Nothing sparks any interest in me. Nothing is reciprocated but I have always been taught to give. Then, I excuse myself from the living room to get some fresh air. As I stroll around the house, two street dogs come into my view. One of them approaches me and for a split second, sniffs at my shoes and look up at me. That was the moment that I feel a tiny bit of closeness again. I have quitted yearning not so long ago but the desire to strike a connection with someone remains buried deep. It would last for a little while now but not always. I am becoming somebody now, which is true since there have been so many phases I have grown out of in my life. "I am not the same anymore," I tell myself.
On the car ride home, I could not bring myself to feed my mind with the scenery through the window. My body sinks into the sofa seat. My mind goes blank. I vanish into thin air. Slowly and gradually, I start to get a taste of that comfortable feeling. It is a familiar territory where I often lapse into. Once again, the craving for some time alone creeps in. Alanis Morisette sounds hopeful to my ears and I feel at ease. I have been sucked into this vicious cycle of solitude and company all my life. Where is this feeling leading me? I know where it is sometimes but not always. Then, the car just drives off.
P.S. I do not own the image used in this writing. The credit goes to the rightful owner.
