I started to conform to those around me for it was easier than struggling through the days believing I could make a difference. It was cowardice. Yet, I’d preferred to believe that I had no choice for it was a notion that sedated my fears as I gazed at life feeling nothing. But where would I go, what would I do and who would listen? Engulfed in emptiness and weariness, I went back to doing whatever it was that had kept me alive.
I put others on a pedestal and, in secret, I felt so low, unworthy and inferior. I believed I could only become somebody if, one day, I reached their heights and I quenched my thirst for success with deceiving and poisonous passions. I looked up to them not realizing that one day I would either break my neck or, disillusioned and disappointed, I would watch them fall, crashing down at my feet. In vain, both sides had been actors in the farce of first creating an idol and eventually burning the demon.
Sitting in the corner of the room, all eyes were on me and I was utterly alone. My words choked in my throat and my heart throbbed loudly and rhythmically to the sound of the void that hovered over my head, reminding me of the place I was in; an empty place, an obscure and unforgiving place.
And I felt my soul rise: I am not who you want to see. I am not who you want me to be. I am larger than that; a broken heart, a terrified adventurer. I traced the lonely beam of light sneaking delicately through the keyhole with hopeful anticipation.