I wish that after 14 days of self-imposed isolation, I would have something profound to say.  I simply do not. It wasn’t that hard; at least the first half was not that hard. I mostly felt like a grizzly bear hyperventilating in a cave tucked away from everybody’s gaze. I was too familiar with the action, and feeling it carried as I have been doing precisely that for more or less the last two years; –  hyperventilating for spring. Spring that at times felt will never come, and I will never leave my cave. 

It is funny how the human brain is wired; we sometimes forget to notice how we get used to particular situations and unintentionally find ourselves trapped in them. During these long 14 days, I realised that for the longest time, I denied myself a chance to be myself.  I chose to criticise my own being instead of embracing her; accept her instead of trying to perfect her. 

By the morning of the 11th day, I couldn’t bear to even look at the food they graciously delivered me; my sleep schedule was all out of place. I was tired of the room. I was tired of my own sluggishness. 

 That morning I put three, might I say very uncomplimentary to one another, Pink Floyd’s albums on the loop, found myself on the floor and blanking staring at the window, or perhaps to the street below. 

I wasn’t contemplating the meaning of life. –  Life is meaningless till the point you allow it to be, as well as meaningful until you choose to turn your back to any meaning. I guess it is pretty simple.

So, instead of contemplating meaning in life, I was rather cheerfully poking fun at my own being. I was way too familiar, too used to this peculiar isolation that it almost felt natural to be in a 15 square room, with windows overlooking a police building, with no human contact, no interactions, no movement around.

The sad part was that it was not the feeling I got indoctrinated during these constantly-changing chaotically messy pandemic times. No, it was a feeling I felt long before this era began. This was a feeling I accepted as a natural order to things, a natural order of adulthood. Ironically, in these unprecedented times, it became apparent that it was not okay, it was not normal. I did not have to accept feeling this way, not now, not in the past, nor in the future.

The thing is, we drive ourselves into that corner, into the corner of isolation. I am not special; I am not the only one who feels that way. And I hate it, not the fact that I am not special ( well, we all are in our own ways for different kinds of people), yet I hate that so many are familiar with that cursed corner.

As humans, we do have a tendency to delude the world in darker undertones, and how could we not? On a daily basis, we witness so much hate, consumerism, war, senseless losses of life, rigged systems, corrupt governments, the planet going warmer by the minute, justice systems failing to protect the ones we care about, failing to protect us.  It is hard to see glimpses of light in all this darkness. It is way too easy to let it all consume us, devour us slowly till we fade. We are helpless to change the world, yet we can bring light to our immediate surroundings, and one day there might be enough light to overtake the darkness. Might…

Yet, to be able to share light, we need to believe; we need to see that light in front of us. We ignore it, we overlook it, we don’t know how to embrace it anymore. There is a little secret to it all it is in the wind, it’s in the first and last sunrays of the day, and it is in the rain. Let’s not forget about that smile of a stranger, the moment somebody chooses to save a strained cat. All about all those moments, we smile, we decide to embrace people around us for who they are when we notice all the small rays of light that illuminate the world around us every single day. 

Do not get me wrong; this is hard. It is so hard to do. But what other choice we do have? We like it or not, it is essential for us to see those little glimpses of light to feel less lonely, less misunderstood and less confused. The truth is nobody knows what the hell they are doing with their lives, nobody knows how this world works, and most people genuinely ask themselves more often when one might imagine what is the point of this all or what the hell is going on, as they simply cannot keep up.

I always feared failure; I always feared that I wouldn’t be smart enough, good enough, or interesting enough to this world and myself. I feared that others would chuckle at things I had to say and believed. 

I collect beautiful notebooks and never fill their pages as my handwriting is messy, I spell too sloppily, and my grammar is all over the place. I continue to tell myself I will fill them one day, one day when the time is right, when I am good enough. I am scared to fill certain pages with people too, and I can only apologize for it. Yet, a couple of weeks back, when I made the decision to move, I looked at my notebook collection, picked one, and let my imperfect handwriting ruin its pages without repair and, most importantly, without regret.

And I grew somewhere between all that, between fear and daring. Between bruised knees, tiers, scars, lying on roads, breaking into the parks, crying when somebody for the first time said they liked the idea of me, not me. All those times, I chose to be cruel instead of kind, when I danced, and I screamed in the rain; when I got lost and found myself in unfamiliar places in the company of strangers…

 I grew up. Somewhere in between stained bedsheets, the early and late train rides,  those times I hid in the shadows and decided to take a leap after leap. When I finally learned how to swim in the stormy ocean…

I grew up somewhere between that moment I felt and decided it was okay to reach for the hand of the other to help me to stand. I grew up somewhere between the grey fields and the smell of salty water. I grew up before I realized it myself.

I think on that 11th day, with three uncomplimentary Pink Floyd albums on the never-ending loop, I finally realized that I grew up, and whatever mess I choose to create out of my life, it will be my mess. The thing is, I am turning 27 in a bare month and still have no clue to which direction I am heading in life; sometimes, I think that I will never know, nor do I have to.  I only need a road with many turns and beaten hidden pathways; I need that space to wonder, to have a desire to discover, change, learn, sometimes start over or sometimes stay. I am me, I always will have myself, and the most important thing is that I like that girl.