Looking at blank pages, its emptiness dazzling me, tears dripping on lines which need to be filled. Everything is racing, I'm not even pacing, they leave me behind but try to comfort me. I just see them from afar, struggling with the moment. Yesterday, right now or tomorrow, there is no difference. I don't know when time decided to leave me.
The vision gets blurry, constant reaching out makes me go numb. Wrong ways, false words mislead me endless times. Now I'm stuck in a labyrinth of hopes and dreams which are not mine, running through paths they told me to go.
Walls are moving, changes till my head is spinning, losing it. Walls are moving, pushed around, falling down. Pressing my shaking hands on my ears, squinting my eyes till it all fades away.
Then it get's silent. Levitating, my feet lose touch. Hovering when realization starts to take over.
Who are you fooling? Not me. Not anymore.
Pushing away your pity, spear it for the lost, I'm still on my way. My tempo, my decision, don't you dare look away. See me glowing in the darkness in which you left me behind. Light is faster than you, it will be too late, a destruction you won't survive. Watch me crush the storm, splitting the chains, you will hear it bang. Nothing can't hold me, back off. Boundaries cracking and falling, me paving the way, BACK OFF.
Truth be told, I won't be gentle, but will remain true, sticking to my beliefs no matter how lost I am, no matter how many hurdles appear. Trying to make me the bad one, no way. My heart is the same, the only thing that never changes, no matter how broken I am and will ever be.
Trying to put me in a form, but I'm too hard to press. I failed till I don't remember when I began to try, did it for so long. Made to be unique, made to stand out. The moment I started to believe, to truly embrace the truth, I set myself free and opened the doors that were closed.
Why should I be like someone else, when I can be the only one, one to be remembered? What would you choose: single piece or mass production?
My pages will be written, blood and sweat dripping, painting a picture of myself. They're not empty, they're in preparation. Don't think I'm slow, just getting warm, warming up to overtake you. Don't think I´m lazy, just taking a breath to prepare for the hunt.
It's never over, not a sprint and neither endurance is right: take your breaks if you need them, that's how you stay alive. That's when you grow, that's when history is made. The comeback. The key.
In the end, even then, I'll never forget.
Who I was, where I came from and what I went through.
Staying true, being me even when I am slow again, even when pages turn and their blankness scares me all over again.
© Anna Vuletic 2022-08-31