In the end

I stepped outside this cave of a place I live in and squinted under the glare of the sun.

The glare of the sun. That is such a pretty, yet common way to allude to the sun’s overwhelming light... I like it very much.

So, I went out, and my steps led me nowhere, for they had nowhere to lead me to in the first place: no pretty spot, or small park in which to wander about around here. Only streets, cars, blank faces, endless rows of identical houses. I’d have to take the overground to get anywhere remotely soothing and Holland Park is now closer than any other park by train.

I was born almost thinking that I was God - my own God- or so close to that notion. Maybe the lesson I must learn now is as basic as the notion of humility.

Learning to be simply human.

I don’t want to turn away from the world, but I don’t want to force it either way. I want to be able to keep an open mind, keep a remnant of hope that things can always change, and not always for the worst. And even if they do change for the worst, there is always hope that they will change for the better again. Maybe not tomorrow, the next week or year, but the hope is always there, lingering in the depths of my inner heart.