Surrounded since I took my first steps, since my first words.
Surrounded by spectators gifted with empathy, understanding, true-heartedness.
Their victories were my own.
Existence – constantly developing from my point of view.
New bruises.
New skills.
New opinions.
New bonds.
New possibilities.
New ways how to fail, fall and yet still land into a secure nest.
Characterized by loving souls.
Supporting my own soul.
Laughing.
Humour.
Passion.
Courage.
Fight.
Every dark corner needed to be explored.
Every disagreement needed to be expressed.
Every tree needed to be explored.
The humble ship sailing on tender waves of constantly excited rivers.
With a crew of the best, most faithful machinists, chefs.
Who would have said that the most vivid ship could change direction?
Who would have guessed that the most generous ship could once sack its own crew?
Susceptible silhouettes shouting for help.
Shouting for help from a near island, moving away at an unnatural speed.
No response.
No lifebuoys protecting the inseparable integrity of such a perfectly
functional system.
No response due to previous disappointment, misunderstanding.
Rooted in determination to try something new.
Something new, which until now nobody had a need to do or courage to act.
From that moment, only silent sailing.
Lonely sailing through the storms.
Through waves bigger than the will of being loved.
Discovered new beaches.
Discovered new spices.
Discovered new strong features, which have moved the weak
features into the darkness of an underdeck.
Separated from attention.
For years. Years on the mission.
Bodies of the crew, the smell of direction lingered around.
Only the connection had been lost.
Between all that differences, believing in one single same thing.
It was supposed to be something powerful.
It was supposed to be something enriching.
Something that would establish a higher standard.
Which will help to change the unalterable.
Instead of growth.
Instead of loud return to the place called home.
Only the echo spreading confusion.
The confusion within one’s own identity.
Not even the captain had an idea of what ship he was sailing and what it could do. Exhausted engines.
Scratched surface.
Damaged compass.
Did I become the captain of the ship, which was not constructed for that mission? Should I have stayed on the calm river instead of setting sail for distant ocean?
Why?
Why all that confusion?
Why that serious facial expression, highlighted by wrinkles?
The used to be a twinkle of happiness present.
What if I listened to too many foreign stories, that each of them had deformed my own identity…
What if all those surrounding lies had become the truth, influencing my perception of who I am.
Somewhere inside of me, feelings.
Feelings shouting: This is not you!
Your self-expression does not reflect who you really are.
Your gesturers do not correspond with beats of your heart.
Your mimics do not correspond with the chemicals running in the veins.
How did I betray my own myself?
Did I do it for myself?
Because the world works against me.
If I lost the connection with my whole self forever, is there still time to say sorry?