Unspoken

I woke up in the middle of the night. Breathing hard. Palms sweaty. I had been calling for Mother, but she never came. In my dreams I was running. Running away because I was scared. Scared of what. Scared of whom. I do not know. But I was running as fast as my short, little legs could carry my weight. In my dream I only saw the darkness that sought to pull me into its abyss. I could not hear anything other than the sound of my shoes against the soft ground and the sound of each breath I took. I lay in bed, breath slowly calming. I pull my blanket tight against my chest and up to my chin. I’m cold inside and yet I know it’s a warm night. How long do I lay there? I do not know. But before I can even count to 100, I am once again in a deep slumber. I am looking for Mother. Looking for Father. Looking for Grandmother. Looking for Grandfather. And then, I am no longer looking. I have begun the deep sleep cycle and my dreams are memories away. Memories that I will not be able to retrieve when I awaken once again.

It’s the typical routine. Wake up. Head to work. Come home. Sleep. There’s no change in the horizon. I’m missing something, but I don’t know what it is. The world seems to be moving, changing, evolving. And I remain here. The same. In the same place. Doing the same thing. I want to scream someday. Loud. Across the ocean so that its waves can carry my frustration with it so that I may no longer be frustrated. Mother once told me I shouldn’t cry. Crying is a privilege, she said. Something only I should be doing. Something I have earned the right to. Why? I asked. But she had tears in her eyes, and told me of the sadness that she has encountered in her path towards righteousness. Dear God, I prayed. I don’t want to cry anymore. Don’t make me cry anymore. It only makes Mother and Father sad. I don’t want the tears to form anymore. Make me not cry anymore. I wonder if God heard my prayer?

I want to dance sometimes. Dance until my legs hurt. My head light. So that I forget what it is I am supposed to do. To be. I want to laugh so hard sometimes. So that my stomach aches and I feel like rolling down on the floor like a dog. I want to sing sometimes. Sing until I can no longer voice any more disgust over my state. But sometimes, I only want to dream. To sleep and dream forever.

But then I hear the voices around me. I see the sad faces, the faces that no longer have the will to live, to make a life. And I am saddened. And I am reminded that it’s okay to just live and be normal. That leaving would not make anyone’s life easier, happier. That joining the ranks of the elite would not change the fact that I am still me. A me that yearns for more than just mere existence. I want to revolutionize the world – my world. But it is written in my life book that I am here by mistake. And so, I am here to do penance and good so that I may return in the next life and live my real life.