Breath
Writing this article on air, maybe 500 meters up above the sky, after a long trip – a month in Perth, Australia. I remind myself of the life I spent in this place, a life that reminded me to be alive. Before leaving to Perth, there was a side of me that carried the weight of the world around me, and also of the world beyond me. The word “present” was only something I read as I scroll through reels, or some random motivation. It was so far beyond reach that I barely took a deep breath, stood still, or slept without my pillow, feeling like it got drenched under the rain or perhaps my tears. Questions running through my head, trying to find a solution to every problem that arose, only to be entangled by the very problem again, as I could not find my way out. Every attempt I made to release myself or to escape from the unbreakable tie I had with my fear, worries, anxieties, life most unpredictable events, and so on, the rope held tighter, suffocating me while making my world smaller and smaller and yet even smaller. Alongside the suffocation, guilt was playing its vital role in the hurricane I built in my head, guilt that I couldn’t spend more time with my grandparents, as their wrinkles deepened and skin loosened, their hearts yearned for my presence, to remind them that they were loved, appreciated, and valued.
