There are people who sacrifice themselves almost instinctively, as though it were written in their destiny. Perhaps because, in certain places, living becomes a daily struggle, an exercise in endurance where even breathing can feel exhausting.
In this place, it feels like dying. The fog surrounds everything, concealing the outlines of people and blurring even our thoughts. You feel yourself slowly fading away, your vision clouded and the sense that you can no longer find a way out.
And so, while I wait for my ride, I find myself observing everything around me and recognising fragments of myself in seemingly distant images.
You feel like a rose growing in a field of nettles, delicate and out of place. You feel like a seashell lying on the shoreline, abandoned to the movement of the waves. You feel weightless, but with the kind of lightness that comes from having the ground swept out from beneath your feet.
Then you decide to give time some time, waiting for the right moment to escape, to change your life, to rediscover something you feel you have lost.
Because the need for change does not belong to you alone. Deep down, everyone needs something: to feel acknowledged, to find their place in the world, to give meaning to their existence. And yet, in trying to fulfil this need, sometimes you end up leaving yourself behind, stripping away even your own identity and moral compass.
On the outside, you burn; on the inside, you explode. There are nights when you cry, perhaps without any apparent reason, but with the awareness that certain thoughts simply won’t leave you in peace. You overthink everything you do, everything you have become, the choices you have made and those you keep putting off.
And sometimes, you have to admit that part of the blame is yours, too.
Because you are also part of this carousel. You keep it moving, you feed its momentum, perhaps without even realising it. You allow yourself to be carried along by the motion of things, while trying to understand whether you are truly living or simply adapting to whatever is imposed upon you.
We are like fleas among an animal’s fur: constantly trying to climb higher, searching for a better position, hoping to reach somewhere that allows us to stand above the rest. Yet, more often than not, we want to get there without effort, without risking a fall, without truly facing the journey.
And yet, only a few of us genuinely try.
The others prefer to settle down, to remain where they are, accepting the space they have been given without ever wondering whether something different might exist.
Perhaps that is precisely the difference: some people, despite the fog, are still searching for a way out, while others have learned to live with the darkness.
As for me, I am still waiting for my ride.
I don’t yet know where it will take me, but I know that sooner or later, I will have to get on.
