Finding Hope
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- Parts 2
I don't know what to do now. I can feel the panic flutter in my chest as I take in a sharp breath. I swear my brain is rapid-firing every anxious thought I've ignored for the past 4 years. I don't know what I'm doing now. I thought I had everything planned. In reality, I was in denial the whole time. And now I'm lost. I was supposed to build something for my life. I was supposed to get out. I filled my head with a fantasy of how great my life could be. But it was all my imagination. So stupid. I was so stupid. How could I fuck things up this badly?
I spent my whole life listening to what other people want. Trying to please everyone else. Trying not to be a burden. Now as I sat at my desk, space heater cooking my legs, I felt angry staring at the screen on my laptop. I had been misguided by the notions of others. I let my life be controlled by the desires of others.
And what about me?
Should I have known better? What could I have done?
It seemed at that moment like my best wasn't enough.
My life had been going in every direction but the right one. Upon completing my last year of my undergraduate degree I had to decide what my next career move should be after finishing school. I was in a battle with my worst self and trying to come out on top. And more than that, I was never really sure I would find my own happy ending. I wasn't even sure what a happy ending could mean for me. That was until I met him. When he came into my life it gave me hope. I was meant to find my path and that's exactly what I did.
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.
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