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There are many things I would do if I wasn’t afraid other people were watching. I know what you’re thinking; it’s a pathetic existence. I, of anyone, would agree. But, even as I try to quiet the spontaneous part of my brain, the part that needs to do something unpredictable every once in awhile, needs to wake up at 3:00 in the morning and go outside and lie in the grass, I know it can’t be. The predictable part of my mind disagrees. The predictable part of me knows that I can do anything I put my mind to. I always have, and by the looks of it, I always will. But sometimes, I wonder, sometimes the impulsive part of my mind wants to know what would happen if, in the middle of doing something of great importance, I said no, enough, I’m done, and dropped everything. Sometimes I wonder. Never do I do.
You want to know what I want to do right now? I want to run outside and just keep running. Just spread my arms out, let my hair down, and let the feeling of the wind against me envelope my mind and soul. But before I can run a foot my mother will be calling after me, my brothers coming from behind. My father will be reached, out on business in who-knows where. There would be complications. There always are.
That’s the only thing keeping me from running. From running and never stopping until my legs grow numb, until my heart is beating a mile a minute, until my breathing becomes ragged, tearing my throat. It sounds funny but I want the pain. I want to feel it with all my being. Because then I’d know I was alive. I’d know that I’d feel something, even if the only something I feel is pain.
Predictability may be painless, may be safe and secure, but it goes farther and more beyond than one could ever imagine; no longer can you feel anything.
The predictable part of me says no, you can’t do that. You’re supposed to do what you’re told, be the nice, little girl you raised to be. You’re supposed to go on and be a goody-two shoes, no questions asked.
But now I’m asking questions. I can’t help the curiosity bubbling inside me. I want to know who is telling me to be predictable and protected. I want to know why safe and secure go above happiness and joy.
I want to know if the complications are the only thing keeping me back.
I want to know these things more that anything.
Unfortunately, you can’t always get what you want.
Its 3:00 in the morning, no one is awake, rain is pouring down from the high heavens and I am sitting in my bad.
There is something terribly wrong with this picture.
The predictable part of me is happy. Well, happiness as is safer and more protected. This part of me doesn’t feel happiness -- This part of me doesn’t feel anything.
The unpredictable part of me is screaming, yelling, throwing a temper tantrum. It’s wants to feel the rain against my skin. It wants to feel cold and shivering. It wants to feel happy, not safe and secure. It wants to feel pure and complete happiness.
Predictability is reminding me of the complications.
Spontaneity is reminding me that want is a feeling. A good feeling. Right now, any feeling is a good feeling.
But why is this a struggle in the first place? Why does protection from questions and puzzled stares come before my wants and desires?
Great, more questions added to the bunch.
It’s 3:30 and here I am still sitting in my bed. Damn.
I thought that maybe, by some miracle, without any part of my mind interfering, my legs would take me outside and just let the rain wash away everything.
But I’m still here.
Dammit all to hell!
It’s 3:42 and yes, the rain is outside and no, I am not with it.
But I’m coming to realize something. No one said I couldn’t go outside. No told me that, may there come a time in my life where I would feel the need to venture outside into the pouring rain in the middle of the night, that I should refuse my desire. So to answer my question, there is only one person I can think of that is telling me not to be spontaneous and unpredictable. And that’s me.
I’m the one telling me to be predictable. I’m the one telling me to stay inside the house. I’m the one telling me to have no feeling.
I am the one and I am the coward.
And come to think of it, I know why safe and secure go above happiness and joy. Because I am a coward. I am afraid of feeling happiness. I am afraid of feeling too much, letting my emotions take control of me. I am afraid and I am ashamed.
Look at that, I got what I wanted but it doesn’t seem as sweet as I imagined.
A wise man once said that there are two tragedies in life: one is not to get your heart's desire. The other is to get it.
Guess which one I got?
It is 3:45. I am searching for my rain jacket. Actually, never mind, I won’t need it. I want to feel the rain on me, I want it to seep into every pore and wash away everything.
The stairs creek a little as I tiptoe down. I hold my breath. This is going to be fun. Fun. I am going to feel fun.
The door is close of course. It stands in front of me, my last barrier holding me back from feeling the rain against my skin. I scoff a little. This is easy.
I unlock the last obstacle.
I open the door.
And for the first time in my life, I let myself get completely and utterly drenched.
And it felt good.
I don’t know what time it is. I am lying in the mud shivering and cold and feeling complete as I watch the last of the starts fade away. The day is creeping up but right now, the darkness and the light are in balance and everything is at peace.
Happiness courses through my veins. It’s something familiar, my body remembers it, but it still has to become comfortable. All the same, my body welcomes it back as an old friend, relieved to have it back.
I watch the sunrise, a smile playing at my lips.