Remember when we were kids? We just thought we would grow up, find a job, find a partner, have a family and just be happy. But then we grew up and realised, “well… S!@#…”. The milestones exist- a job which is pretty hollow, a partner who is just there, an idea of a possible family which scares every element of you. Happiness however can only be glimpsed somewhere back in the past.
The frustration of everyday becomes part of your existence and disappointment becomes a mastered habit. You long for the day when flashes of a life that could have been stops interrupting you, leaving you further deep in the smog of your life. Nothing here is relevant and nothing here is your passion. You realise that you were lied to as a child when they say ‘you’ll get over it because there is a long life ahead of you’. You realise that you had actually killed yourself somewhere along the way when you eventually succeeded in stopping yourself from experiencing anymore. You reduce yourself to a piece of furniture and the people around you manage to convince you from time to time that this, in fact, is what happiness feels like. But that’s not true, because you had that once, you had a happy life where you didn’t want for anything more.
What if you just took off? What if you woke up one day and said “NO” to your glum life. You decide to pack up and leave all the nonsense possessions behind you, boarded a bus, a train or even a plane and disappeared. Somewhere you can breathe again, let out a sigh and walk around. Somewhere you can smile again and feel your heart fill up again. Somewhere you can laugh out loud and break into a crazy dance. Somewhere you can choose to experience and not be reprimanded for breaking the strictly constructed social pattern. Somewhere you can choose silence and still feel whole.
But this is just wishful thinking… You wake up to find out that you are still the same furniture, and you get on with your existence with all of the other furnitures, adorned in different colours and textures as required by the society of ours.