The thought struck me.
I was sitting on the green, surrounded by sunshine, a calm wind, and the buzzing of some curious bees. I had finished the final flick of the rough pages of the latest novel I’d absorbed, hugging it to my chest.
My stomach dropped.
I watched a security guard cycle past on the new bikes they had trained on; I remembered the friendly security guard who said hello to me as I worked at graduation. But why were they there?
The thought hit me like a bullet.
I had been in a large crowd full of happy students. A large crowd in a country where there have been numerous attacks on the public: mass killings, slayings, attacks, threats. Bombs, guns, knives.
Not to mention the everyday dangers that exist all the time: Buses, trams, trains. Tripping on the road in front of a car. Accidents; deliberate actions.
The bullet penetrated my brain and my heart joined my stomach in the inner turmoil.
Anything can happen and it can happen anytime. Rainy days, the future: what about the sunny days and the present? What about feeling? What about living? What about the point of life? Experience? What about now?
I don’t want to keep it in. I want to express. I want to live. I want to make mistakes and embrace my humanity. I want to learn, I want to love. I want, I want.
I want to embrace you and show you my love. I want to work through things, talk openly and honestly. I want to find solutions to problems, clear hurdles and navigate through treacherous waters with you. I want to come home to you and tell you how annoying you are. I want to kiss you and move with your body. I want, I want.
But the bullet hasn’t hit you. And I don’t know if it will. But still, I want.
Feature photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash
