It was a Monday morning, and the first day after my resignation. I stayed in bed for a while, still remembering what had happened just days before. I had always done this before when I was still working, and a sense of dread and morbid anticipation filled my lungs as I took a deep breath and as my heart started to skip a beat. It was the feeling of calm before a storm, and the realization that I was going to capsize, drown and be fare game to sharks as soon as I was on the clock, and as soon as my feet hit the floor, I could almost taste the saltwater go down my throat. This morning was different, I was seldom happy when I just woke up, but I could swear that I was smiling right before I opened my eyes. It felt that I had just awoken from a nightmare, but I knew that everything that had happened was real, but I knew that for now, the dreadful sleep will no longer haunt me and instead of reliving horror, it became nostalgia of relief.
Cold water dripped from my brow as I stared at the reflection from the bathroom mirror. And no matter how long I stared, I knew that I was a different person, and the face of the stranger that I had long despised was something I grew accustomed to. Although that didn’t mean I hated what I had turned myself into any less, I still wanted what had been taken from me, and, though futile, I would never stop searching. I looked like a mess, the invisible scars bore my hardships and shame, and the silent wounds the bled out my soul, are etched into my being, and my reflection was a ghost, a testament to what I had learned and lost, and the reason I search for redemption. And as I walk away, I always hoped that the next time, I would see someone I knew and actually wanted to see. And since that day, it was the new reason why I woke up in the morning.
I had gone back to my habit of taking long walks whenever I could. But unlike before, going to and coming home from work, it wasn’t about getting to where I was going and going back and forth, it was about the walk itself. And as I paced aimlessly, I always asked myself if by making choices the way I did, that I had cheated myself out of a good thing and gave up the chance to live what most would consider a fulfilling life. Even to this day I ask this question, but I remain undaunted, for I believe and live by two absolute truths in my short lifetime, one, regrets keep people from taking a full step forward and two, I am not most people. What most consider the way to live an accomplished existence, I consider selfish and superficial. The way I see it take away the frosting and rainbow colors from the bitter pill they shove up you’re a$$ called “life”, its work for money, propagate your species and don’t get in the way when you become useless, and die. If my tenure at that horror show of job has taught me anything, its that fulfillment and a life lived to the fullest, surpasses the superficial realm of material satisfaction, it has to reach an entirely spiritual, even existential plane. Family, wealth, love, prestige and power don’t mean anything to me if deep inside, I know I never got what I wanted. If it means defying conventional logic, then ill live and linger outside the box, and if it means starving to death naked while under the mercy of the elements, then let a piece of nameless stone mark my grave. My decision indeed was like trading in my old life, but I know that I was given a chance to pursue what I believe is my calling and the only path to true happiness and I will make certain that every step I take from here on will be toward the life carved by my own hands, the life that I would want to live.
Nursing my old friend, once my passion, now my burden, beginning that day, each morning you remind me of a promise to myself, to never lose sight of what really matters to me and to continue moving forward towards happiness, and a truly fulfilling existence.
-graydarksoul-
