I am on the verge of big changes. I am leaving my favourite city. I will not be able to come home except for fifteen days in December. I had to give up a dream I nurtured for the past two years just because somewhere, I was not good enough.
I was always the girl with the plan. You know how people are either impulsive or contemplative? I am the sort who plans my impulses. I have always followed my gut and maybe that has made me emotional about things that I want, but it is what worked. Till now. As I publicly cried my guts out on the day I found out, I could only think one thing. “Such a waste of a young heart.” Yes, like the song.
All I heard from all sides were people congratulating me, the ones close to me consoling me. But every time I have to check my imagination which goes back to the old dream, I wish I did not have to. It felt like The Real World slapped me in the face for my audacity to hope for the best and forget to be prepared for anything less. It told me, “Good job at getting your feet back on the ground. Don’t venture for the skies any longer, young fool.”
Daisy Buchanan was right. “The best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool”
Later that night, when I refused to rid myself of the self pity, one of my best friends told me, “Fine. Degrade yourself to the size of an atom and see what happens.”
My dramatic side rebelled, “Protons, dammit. What is that stuff made of? That is how low I’ll pull myself.”
My usually collected friend replied, “I DON’T WANT PROTONS OKAY?”
I got Caps-locked.
Like a lot of things he has taught me, he also taught me this. It’s true. No one wants the proton. No one wants to be dragged down that low. To that insignificant size. Sure, they are a part of what makes up our universe. But, no one really cares about that.
The best I can do right now is to make sure that I do not drag myself any lower. I have little time on my hands as do the rest of you. I just seemed to have faced a divergence from the path, but I am hoping I can work and get it back on track. I’m a master at escapism and this is going to be difficult. But, we all need to have a story worth telling. I guess The Universe is giving me mine.
I have taken 18 flights in the past one and a half years. It is quite a lot for someone my age but, I guess those are the slight perks of living away from home. On flight number 19 this morning, I knew only one thing. I am going back home. That is a comfort, right?