Sometimes I wonder if it’s only me who
finds it hard to do the simple things.
That is,
sometimes I wonder if it happens to someone else that grocery shopping is the
worst thing in the entire world. I wonder if there’s someone else who has to
think about it thoroughly the night before, something like ‘’hey, tomorrow you’re
going there and you’re buying what you need, no excuses’’, because there’s
nothing bad about it, because deep down they know, as I know, that nobody cares
about you wandering around the stores, but then they wake up and realise they’re
not gonna be able to keep their promise. I wonder if they also get dressed and
ready to go, but find themselves sitting on the edge of the bed all set to go
but unable to move. I wonder if they felt the defeat in their heads and in
their hearts, whether or not it feels like a victory when they find the
strength to get up and go because it hardly ever happens.
Sometimes I
wonder if it’s only me whose heart starts to race when they have to talk to
someone they’re not familiar with. When someone approaches you on the street
and innocently asks you something, when you need to order your food in a
restaurant, all that kind of things. Sometimes I wonder if there’s someone else
that replays all the conversations they’ve had during the day in their heads,
thinking of ways they could’ve made it better, thinking of how they should’ve,
could’ve said something else, chosen better words. Sometimes I wonder if there’s
someone else who has experienced how their marks drop because their hands were
too shaky and their voice broke too many times while talking to their
classmates. Sometimes I wonder if there’s someone else who would rather die
than asking for help.
Sometimes I
wonder if there’s someone else who finds it hard to be alone. To put on your
socks and your shoes and walk through the streets on your own, feeling
everybody’s eyes on you though you know it’s not true that they’re staring at
you. I know it’s not true. I know I’m just another ghost and yet it feels like
an adventure to just go into the city, to walk around, to exist amongst the sea
of strangers that share my existence. Sometimes I wonder if it’s only me who
stays home in the most beautiful day of the year just because they’re too
scared of even trying to take a walk around and feel all those eyes staring. Sometimes
I wonder if it’s only me who hears people laughing and whose first reaction is
to think ‘’they’re laughing at me’’.
Sometimes I
wonder if it’s only me who finds it hard to even exist.