I had a short burst of adventure last Sunday that may have probably prompted the sleeping wanderess in me. I yearned for more. It felt so good to be alive.
To swim against the waves. To dive as deep as my breath would allow. To see the beauty of a world lesser known to our human eyes.
Days later, I find myself feeling trapped.
Trapped in a four-walled room. Trapped with imaginary rules on how responsible adults should behave. The world somehow has made me believe that being happy, too happy is being irresponsible.
That to feel alive too much is not good for me. But isn’t this the purpose of life?
To feel free. To feel alive.
To be excited of the prospect of a next adventure.
To be alive. To live.
I don’t exactly know why I feel a slight unhappiness inside me. Im not sure if this is boredom or perhaps the haunting existential crisis has again arrived.
I don’t even know if this crisis comes to you through waves, one at a different time but all I know is that something feels different. I feel different.
Today was one of those days where I just didn’t know what to do. I feel like doing something that shake whatever negativity was hounding me but I don’t know what to do aside from write.
Writing my heart out, as they would say. I try, I try. I write and I would write. A little and then some more.
And when I do not know what else to write, I see four walls closing up on me again.
I guess this how the wandering starts. It doesn’t happen in an airplane up in the clouds or in a rackety bus on a dirt road.
The wandering begins when the familiar four walls of blankness stares right into your soul.
You find yourself uncomfortable because, those eerie walls, they never leave and you never asked why, and never tried to make sense out of them.
And this is the perfect time to allow yourself the freedom to wander and wonder.
As the saying goes, if not now, then when? If not me, then who? ♡♡♡
Mermaids Do Surf 