The music drummed through everyone in the room, making them sway to the tunes. It wasn’t like in the movies were everyone knew how to dance, or how they moved perfectly with the beats. It was the total opposite; it was a chaos of moves. Drunk or high on the music flowing through them or simply because of alcoholic substance, it made no difference either way. They had no care of the outside world; it was a moment of release.
I, though, was stuck in my own world; I was content to observe everything around me, to watch random people interact with each other and see their beauty and uniqueness. Epiphanies have a tendency to hit you in the strangest moments, and as I was standing there in the midst of the screams, laughs and shouts of joy, I was struck by one. It was the most fearful one I have experienced so far. It was the realization that your path of life is like going through the longest tunnel of doom, yet it is neither scary nor dark. There is light with every step you take, but you still shake and the worst part is that it is not with tiredness, it is with fear. It is the outcome that makes you tremble with every stride.
You know the truth, and when you figure it all out, you decide to bury it behind the so many well-built walls. No one can know, and I should forget it too. I can’t know who I am because I’m not ready to deal with the consequences. I’m not ready to face myself; I’m not ready to accept the truth. A hypocrite on the move, and I despise it. Breathing heavily as I walk through that tunnel, I search for the wall to, perhaps, find support, but I find none. I tell myself that if I can’t find that wall then there is no point in continuing on this path, so I fall to the ground and burst into tears and I do the inevitable and pray. I whisper feverishly as I beg Him to hear my prayers, to love and accept me, it’s all I want.
So here I am stuck between worlds, my crumbled figure crouched low on the ground waiting for that wall to appear or that god to show me a sign. So I raise my head and look down my condemned path and I realize that I had no desire to return to my old ways nor do I desire to continue. I can’t acknowledge who I truly am because I don’t like it. I hate who I’m supposed to become and even worse I’m afraid. I’m terrified I’ll finally find happiness in that person, I’m afraid I’ll lose everything and I’m afraid of being a disappointment to those I care deeply for.
The search of acceptance is by far worse. The need to know that your loved ones are your wall through that tunnel, but you know they are not. People tell you it is of no importance, but it is. We spend our lives searching for that acceptance and acknowledgment of existence. We are raised to fit in and so we work hard on doing just that. As we do that we forget who we truly are, and we conform to those around us. So I see the shadow of my true self on the other side of the tunnel lifting its hand and gesturing in encouragement and I pity what it sees. Another broken shadow chained from its limbs to invisible walls and being pulled back as it fought to continue its path and leave conformity behind.