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Walking the line

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It's like life brought me into this world that hates me.

As if I'm existing, not living. Just a leaf in the wind, no choice, no control. No path I can follow. Blowing in so many directions, that I lost track of everything. Stuck somewhere between soft breezes and screaming storms. Now they're almost the same, they change too fast, scared to death.

Keep telling myself it will end, the storm will calm, I will find the place I am supposed to be. That I will land on a gentle hand that wants to keep me.

Joy rushed through my heart. I opened my eyes and looked at a blue sky. Excited to live. I want to live.

For now the world is black, it keeps pulling me apart. Pieces are lost on the way to wherever I am supposed to be. The sun is dark, warmth feels cold, and hearts are lonely. Don't even know what happiness is about. Chaos mixes my senses, lines are blending and I'm losing it. Am I so messed up that I can't even separate my own emotions, my own thoughts?

Like a captain losing control of his ship, maps are gone, waves are crushing, and the wood is groaning dangerously. The leaks I stuffed in a hurry are giving in, I can see the water paving its way. I am alone. I am alone, so how am I supposed to reach the harbor? Every morning, waking up with a prayer on my lips: let it at least be a fast death, have mercy and spare me from an end in a cold and wet grave.

Abandoned at sea. The treasure was promised, all I got was turbulence. The illusion keeps me awake, still here trying to take myself home. The desire doesn't let me stop, to find my answer.

Trying to master the tempo of the hurricane, the wind is teaching me the dance of the storm. Tripping over my own feet, I can't follow. What can I do? Dancing is an unknown field, an uneven ground, I am staggering around. My partner is getting sick of me trying and pushes me away. Floating, washed away.

Standing at the starting line once again. Once again, I died in the attempt. Wish I could tell you I had just entered the game, but that would be a lie.

Experienced loser.

Game over. Repeat the level. Not many lives left.

Do I even want to go on anymore? Sick of the play.

The step over the cliff tempted me, whispering soothing words of salvation.

Walking the line, one step, making the decision.

Should I take fate in my own hands?

© Anna Vuletic 2022-08-31


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