"And was it his destined part
Only one moment in his life
To be close to your heart?
Or was he fated from the start
To live for just one fleeting instant,
within the purlieus of your heart.""The Flower" by Ivan Turgenev
A day had never felt that beautiful before. It was as if, I'd started being conscious about my very own existence, as if I had finally unlocked the very fascinating perception of the nature of life itself. It felt as if I were drunk in happiness and nothing could tear me apart.
How could somebody even imagine being sad in a mesmerizing world as this one we're living in? How could it even be possible being unhappy or holding grudges to one another? How it came we wasted so many years in pointless fights, in the pointless existential war imposed to us by a force that we're not even sure if it exists? How it came we never saw how much alike we all were, but instead we focused on what was different and tirelessly fight over it, as it would make us better but when in our deep conscience we knew that wasn't true?
As I got out the Herald's Headquarters, it was already 6 o'clock. The sun was giving away his last rays for that day. It felt as it was sad about all those hours he and all those people would be apart, even if he'd show up somewhere else ending that 12-hour absence. It felt as he wanted to give all his light to everybody at the same time, but that just couldn't be. No matter how much the sun would want to warm up everyone the same way, it was something out of his control.
But we, humans, we have a choice. We aren't that tied to any kind of system or law of attraction or motion as the sun. The only 'laws' that stand in our way are the outdated moral laws of the past that needs to be rewritten. We need to take from the past what it is useful and change what can be used no more. We, human beings are free to make our own choices. We can give warmth to everyone we choose and everyone is worthy to, even why at the first glance it might not appear so.
I took a seat at the Central Square; the Herald's was just a couple meters away from it. As I was thinking, I took a seat on those empty benches.
That would be my favorite part of the day for many reasons. Each day, when I'd finished work I'd sit there, on that same bench and look at the sky. I would dream about many things, dream about possibilities, about meeting new people, about adventures I'd be planning to have soon. But, it was all meant to remain just like that; fragments of imagination, synapses and electrical charges through my brain, never to get to be real. I'd spend every day, since I started working here four years ago just like that. Sometimes I would get this cold, creepy feeling in my chest as if I was meant to live that way, that a certain point of my life I'd look back and only be able to remember dreams which never came to be, opportunities that never came to be taken, life that never came to be. The worst part, was that I'd already entered that road. Unconsciously, each time I'd visit one of those places I'd dreamt of, I'd more likely refer to the dream than reality itself. Something was not right. Things needed to be changed, but where could I start?
As I walked through the streets, I'd see those familiar faces, but not even a single would be a friendly one. It had been a long time since I'd spoken to a friend, as long as I could barely remember how it felt to speak to one! Yes, my fellow, I had forgotten how to be social, how to talk politely and not act strangely when someone would talk to me,or acting as I wasn't surprised that someone would even be talking to me. Each time someone would dare to, I'd doubtfully think of what it's purposes were and not for a second that the person would actually be there to comfort me in my loneliness. My sudden reaction would slowly push everyone away even if I never meant to. But those were rare cases I was talking about. Talking of general matters, for some reason, I'd been outcasted by my friends and family and yet, I couldn't get angry or be disappointed of that. It was as if my expectations for the society had ceased to exist, and yet somehow I'd still get hurt of that.
It seemed as "White nights", my favorite novel back to the time I used to read had become my life. Only with the slight change that I'd never get to meet Nastenka.
YOU ARE READING
A State of Grace
Short StoryThe short experience of a persona, conscious of its existence.