So what happened was, I got in a car, on a plane, on a bus, in a taxi, in another taxi, and then somehow, I got here. Now I don't really know how long it took, nor how long I think it took, but if I had to guess, I'd say it was around twenty five hours and five minutes, which is pretty much the equivalent of a lifetime spent suspended in an imaginary cardboard box drawn in the middle of where you are and where you desperately want to be. So if you really think about it, I mean, really think about it, it must have been a very long time, which it was.
But I figure that's what you get for naively pretending, for twenty five years, that hope and patience, who subtly hold each other's middle finger throughout most of their life, are a foolproof portrayal of the soul. That's what you get for pretending it didn't matter. Because of course it mattered. It mattered when you first thought it did and it mattered when you realised that you were hibernating through life, day by day, without acknowledging that something within those four walls you hide so comfortably in, is in fact wrong.
Those four walls within which the fiction on screen and the lyrics to the song you hum to yourself every morning are real, but only inside your head. That box inside which taking the plunge is not scary as hell, and moving forward is comfortable and safe and has pretty coloured butterflies adorning every square inch. But you know where safe and comfortable and butterflies get you? Nowhere. That's where. They get you nowhere. Maybe they do, at first. Maybe they do get you somewhere, but nowhere you would want to be. Not really.
Which is probably why cutting your way out of the box is so damn difficult. Because there's a lot at stake, a lot that could go wrong, a lot that might not necessarily meet those ridiculously high expectations. But then you do. You put your fears aside, you take your naked heart out for a spin, and you do. No more second guessing. No more vague hopes of being swept off your feet. This is it. Make it or break it.
But I figure that's what you get for naively pretending, for twenty five years, that hope and patience, who subtly hold each other's middle finger throughout most of their life, are a foolproof portrayal of the soul. That's what you get for pretending it didn't matter. Because of course it mattered. It mattered when you first thought it did and it mattered when you realised that you were hibernating through life, day by day, without acknowledging that something within those four walls you hide so comfortably in, is in fact wrong.
Those four walls within which the fiction on screen and the lyrics to the song you hum to yourself every morning are real, but only inside your head. That box inside which taking the plunge is not scary as hell, and moving forward is comfortable and safe and has pretty coloured butterflies adorning every square inch. But you know where safe and comfortable and butterflies get you? Nowhere. That's where. They get you nowhere. Maybe they do, at first. Maybe they do get you somewhere, but nowhere you would want to be. Not really.
Which is probably why cutting your way out of the box is so damn difficult. Because there's a lot at stake, a lot that could go wrong, a lot that might not necessarily meet those ridiculously high expectations. But then you do. You put your fears aside, you take your naked heart out for a spin, and you do. No more second guessing. No more vague hopes of being swept off your feet. This is it. Make it or break it.
* * *
And so here we are now. It looks like you've made it. You're outside the comfort zone. Yes, maybe you're a couple years too late, but who the hell cares? You got here in the end. And it's so unbelievably perfect you could cry. But you're not going to. You're just completely overwhelmed at how good it feels. It's beautiful, and it's exhilarating, and the best part is, it's real. It's not happening on a movie screen. It's not written on a lousy piece of paper. It's not floating inside your overactive imagination. It's real. And it's your real. Just yours, and no one else's.