Have you ever felt being stuck? To not be able to move forwards nor backwards. Actually not be able to move at all. Not necessarily in the literal sense. But in any possible sense. Or direction.
How does it feel to be stuck? To feel like suffocating because you know where you want to be. What you want to be. With who you want to be with. Only you can’t. Because you’re stuck. God damn stuck. And worst of all, being aware that there’s nothing you can do to change the situation. The now. Cause if you do, all hell might break loose. Things will break. Feelings will be hurt. Nothing will be the same again. Ever.
I’m stuck. I’m suffocating. I’m in a hopeless state in which I have navigated myself. Passively but knowingly. Thinking that at some moment I will get out. Find the right exit. The one that sets me free. The one that allows me to re-start again. Reshuffle my cards and start from scratch. But that is not really possible, is it? And if so, at what cost? And who bears the cost?
So I’m stuck in the middle of this life. My life. My self-built prison. With the knowing of where I would like to be. Who I would like to be. With. And I will not. Cause every step forwards, or backwards, or sidewards, will break things. Change the status quo. Will position me somewhere I’ve never been before. And I will have to learn to master an unknown situation. Will have to collect the damages. Collateral damages. Pay the price.
So I sip my drink and wonder, all by myself. Is it worth it? Well, I know the answer. And while I smile to myself, I forget for a moment where I am. Stuck in a dream. A bad one.
Time to wake up.
(Image credits: http://basti-in-paris.blogspot.lu/2011/12/zugeparkt.html)