Sometimes

I tried looking for things that beckon beyond my own world.

Before I commenced my walk down the rocky path of Life, I did a rough sifting through my pockets. They were nearly empty. A few coins here and there and some discarded candy wrappers that never did make it to the dust bin. A persistent groping in the furthest depths revealed a crumpled photo, of myself. It was a photo taken at the graduation ceremony against an artificial backdrop of polders filled with endless rows of tulips. I remembered that there was a windmill planted awkwardly in the middle of the canvas too.

I tried to gather a bunch of stuff that were to be discarded but in the end, they remained with me. After all, they have been with me for a while and I just can't bear the thought of leaving behind a part of me in a place where I know I'll never set foot on again. In the end, the bloated front pockets heaved and scuffed uncomfortably against my thighs amidst the crunch of the gravel tarmac. I contemplated slapping them so as to flatten the bulge. Hopefully, they won't heave as much as they would.

Sometimes the road looks as if it's never gonna end.

Somehow the landscape started melting away into the corner of my eyes. The noisy conversations quieten down and the monotonous crunching at my feet developed a strange rhythm of its own. As if the sky isn't grey enough, the mountains began to be shrouded with angry looking crags and bleak barren cliffs. I was half expecting a Cyclops to drop by for a hello but I figured that these one eyed beasts don't make for hospitable hosts.

The path mostly went for long boring straights, broken only by occasional meandering bends which allow me to take an one last look from where I left. I was so afraid that someone might be watching me and just waiting to catch me stealing a glance again. I was so gratuitously indebted to the bends.

And then it turned dark. Nothing much changed. The crunching doesn't appear to change in pitch. Neither does my will in continuing on. It's one solitary journey of which the end remains unknown to me.

Someone or something, please entice me.

I realise that my journey thus far has been full of myself always rushing to one unknown destination. Nobody can tell me for sure when I will reach but then again, is it my real wish to really arrive at the destination? One thing's for sure. This mindless rushing is simply unsustainable... It's time to loosen the footstep, put a little spring in it and stop sometimes to smell the flowers.

It's time to wrest back my life.