Desire and Fate

It is a cloudless, remarkably hot, and sultry late-summer day in the dreadful and inexhaustible city of Lucky Springs. The days are warm and humid while the nights, however, are charmingly mild and balmy at this time of the year. Summer has always been a festive, busy, and somewhat fragmented season. I have always admired these few months when it's cool in the morning and warm throughout the day. 

The sight of the remote yellow sun has regularly been energizing for me, the slender electric rays oozing through my window every morning have always been joyful and somewhat refreshing for me, these transient moments of warmth are something I hugely value.

There's something special about summer; the heartwarming feeling when summer is just around the corner, the excitement about plans and goals you wish to accomplish, and the late night drives through the relatively narrow and crowded streets of the city all contribute to making this season a favorite for many people, at least it is for me.

I haven't written an entry in this journal for a sore long time, I have my hectic and eventful life to blame for that. It's Saturday, and that means that my brisk two-week vacation is over and tomorrow marks the beginning of another exhausting year at the firm where I worked for the past five years. I am a stockbroker, a nine-to-five job, five days a week. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do, it's what I have always wanted to be. It's just that sometimes I feel trapped behind this desk, and all I can see is this set of numbers floating around the computer screen.
It's finally 5 pm, I make my way through the hustle and bustle of the company towards the excruciatingly slow and bumpy elevator and eventually to my 98' Toyota Corolla parked somewhere within the open and high-ceilinged garage, A brief moment of comfort when I finally get inside the car, my little special 'comfort zone' that I particularly appreciate at the end of each day and highly value.

I take off my black jacket and the bright red tie that I carefully chose in the morning and toss them over the back seat. I loosen up the first two buttons of my long-sleeved white shirt and I turn on the radio to have some company along the road. I embrace myself for a long, tortuous, and mournful drive back home. I have constantly loathed driving in this city, it's chaotic and messy, and the lack of scenery along with the congested streets and the reckless and exhilarating driving skills of the other drivers around me are going to drive me insane one day. The bad thing is that you can't do anything about it, all you have to do is to contain yourself and try not to have a breakdown through it, five days a week, if that's not a test of patience I don't know what is.

I have always wondered about what other people are doing with their lives and how are they dealing with their own problems. It has always been fascinating for me to indulge myself in my imagination and let my mind breathe a different sort of air while I am stuck in this heavily packed traffic. And for a minute or two, I forget about my hideous daily routine, unaccomplished goals, and the unbearable traffic. It made me believe that once you start to think of the problems of others you forget your own. So I made it a habit; Once I turn into the main street, I turn off the radio and begin to roll into a series of thoughts of all the possible imaginary scenarios that I have created in my head for strangers driving beside me. It helps kill time, plus after all those hours at work, I need a little bit of time to clear my head and drift my thoughts away from me.

One final turn, I park my not-so-luxurious car in the small and outdoor cemented garage of the building where I live. I truly love this neighborhood; It's quiet and peaceful but at the same time it's not too far away from all the big lights of the city. I grab my stuff from the back seat and close the door gently. I look up to the painfully blue sky and wonder how I missed the genuine beauty of it while I was locked in the work, behind a computer screen, dozens of documents, and a telephone.

I walk strongly towards the building's door that was strangely left open by one of my neighbors. I make my way through the long, narrow, and steep stairs all the way up to the fifth floor because I thought to rent the top apartment in a building without an elevator was a good idea. I fancied the view from the top; the spacious balcony that had a broad field of vision over the neighborhood, it was one of the reasons that tempted me to rent this place.

I put my hand into the pocket of my trousers searching anxiously for the keys. With soft and slightly moist hands I turn the key in the door lock and push the heavy wood-paneled door lightly. I turn on the lights and walk straight towards the bedroom. I sigh and lay my fatigued body over the exquisitely comfortable bed as in this exact moment, I have made it through another day, I have survived today.

I embrace this moment of each day tightly; Despite how lonely and dull it is, I have reached another 'checkpoint'; A fresh breath of air, a state of tranquility. Routine defined me, took control over my thoughts and ambitions, and drove me into becoming someone I cannot relate to. And I wonder, are we all fighting through a life we did not genuinely want, or is this how adulthood really is?

I think I became more of someone rather than my unique self; This rather boring routine has shaped the way I behave. It feels like I have no space left for all those ideas and thoughts inside my head. And all those dreams that I aspired to accomplish, they're hanged out to dry.

You cannot find peace by avoiding life; If I quit today, what difference would that make?

We often think that leaving a place where we were trapped for a long time would actually help us get back on our feet.

But I am not sure, I am not sure of anything anymore.
I come back to my small and immaculately clean apartment, where I have spent countless nights staring through the big and translucent windows, looking for something to motivate me.
But it's empty; I am the only one living here. And it gets lonely, cold, and achingly boring.

I surrendered to my fate; That this awful and rustic life is what I deserve.
And all those desires that I had, all those dreams, all those ideas will be gone tomorrow morning when I wake up, get dressed, and continue doing the same things that got me here in the first place.
I am free to go anywhere I want, as long as I stay in the maze.
I often wear a smile to hide that I've been hurt before, 

I try so hard to forget what I wanted to remember.

I am too young to hate this world this much.

Maybe this world is another planet's hell.

Maybe we are ought to suffer to grow.
The abysmal globe spins around itself in the wonderful and infinite space.
And as it rolls, it swings all those tumbled bodies around, knocking them down, only to see them get up again in the morning.

Fate doesn't care about your plans.
You can only reach what you truly desire.
And the constant battle between the two would always leave one wondering;
Is anything I do worth it at all?
Or am I just passing time in this life?
I rest my head on my soft fussy pillow,
I close my sad tired eyes.
And I hope tomorrow is a better day.

I am lost.

I will always be locked in this maze, no matter which route I take, they are all dead-ends.

And no matter what I do, nothing changes.

I will go home.
I will be bored.
No one will listen to me, really listen to me.
I am too quiet for them to understand.
I am too clever for myself to figure out.

I am made of a radiant constellation of bold ideas, unusually vivid and perspective dreams, and uncomfortable yet delightful thoughts all locked in a mysterious strong box.
I can't find the special key.
I think I never will.

The apartments' wooden paneled doors are closing in on me.

The windows turned puzzlingly dim,

Cruel western wind blowing through,

Everything is floating defying gravity,

My documents, my briefcase, my computer, and even my couch are all up in the air,
I am feeling everything at once,
My average, routine life flashes before my eyes.
My head is going to explode,
My young and faithful heart is beating on a different rhythm.
I cease to exist.

I wake up.

It's Summer in Lucky Springs.
Tears fall from my beaten eyes.
I am here to live another day.
I have to get dressed. 

And power through another day.
The trick in life is knowing how to deal with it,
And this is the only way I know.
I put on my long-sleeved open-necked shirt,
And I think,
Death will never be the greatest loss in life,
The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.
And I march on,
Dead inside,
Wearing a fake crooked smile,
And ready to take the cruel world on.