There are those moments where I lay in silence, waiting for the world to stop. I sit and wait for that moment of quiet, but it never comes. People never stop moving; they never stop going. I often feel like I’m watching them while standing in the street, itching to be heard. To be seen.
I watch as the people zoom past, scrambling to reach their new destination. All while I feel confused and disoriented. Everyone always appears to know where they’re going and how they will get there. I have never reached that postmark, and maybe neither have they. It merely appears as if they know where they are going.
I suppose it’s better that I don’t pretend, so I don’t become lost in the bustle. I guess waiting for that magic moment where everything was clear, was the child in me. Because life doesn’t arise from a collective whole but that of moments put together.
This world may knock me down. This world may be tough at times, and things may never become what I expect them to be. But to stop trying means to falter and end. Today I am a sitter, watcher, listener of the world, and all the people.
There are those moments where I sit silently and wonder what it is to be. The answer may never be clear, but I have this moment, and that’s all I need.
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