Even Mighty Walls Fall Apart

 

I have never felt this angry before; I have never felt like the world is narrowing down; I have never experienced such desires: desires to escape, to run away, to go anywhere far away from here. I can’t hold on to my breath any more, to my anger or to my grudge held against the world. I want to revolt; I want to surrender. I am tired of fighting against the flow. Nothing is perfect I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to remind me of my imperfection every time you lay your eyes on me. I am torn up from the inside and all what you see is the things I pretend to be. The cracks are hidden by the fake smiles and fake laughs. It’s not easy to be me. It’s not easy to be anyone else. Why can’t I live my own life by my own rules? Why can’t I do what I want to do? I know why -no need for anyone to answer. Even the mighty walls break when the pressure exceeds and the rough seas get rougher when thunder strikes. How can this world be a good place when the good are joining the other side? Is it a taboo to want to live a whole life instead of tracking down the footsteps of the former? Screaming might help the urge in me to be unleashed; however, no one will let us do so. School, life, social life, thoughts, dreams, wishes, fears, nightmares, dreams (again) everything just lines up to show us how we have not accomplished things the way we wanted to. If, by chance, one of them really did work out the way we hoped, all other doors seem to be locked. They are locked from the outside while being inside keyless. I am tongue-tied; I am handcuffed; I am marooned. I stand with one prayer, I set loose. At my window, I stand with a perpetual dream set free with the smell of the sand and wind in the early hours before sunrise and after nightfall. I whisper louder than a scream so that my wish gets to where it should be. Thus one morning I may wake up or one night I may end up finding a realized dream. And then I wake up from the dream.

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