You probably already noticed that I don’t write as much as I used to, stories like this and this seems to be things of the past; I can’t produce them anymore. Like most of you, I have a list of excuses why I am not able to do it, in my head, they are all plausible and valid.

I keep telling myself it will change, that I will find my groove, my muse, my mojo back. All I have to do is… what exactly? Divorce, be young again, go back to the past, move to another place, be unfaithful and most of all be healthy.

I can’t sit for a long time these days. My fingers won’t cooperate, my sight failing (I’m still waiting for my computer glasses) and getting worse each day. My multi-focal eyeglasses are not even a year old and I already need a new one. My components are deteriorating faster than I can absorb the sudden constant changes in my body. I can’t concentrate. Pain is everywhere and I lack inspiration and motivation.

I used to be free. I can come and go wherever/whenever I want. I had the time and means to do it. Life was a constant adventure. A roller coaster of feelings and emotions. There was never a dull moment. Every second count.

Twelve years ago, I decided to land and settle. I needed a rest, a sanctuary, a haven. The smartest move I made is also the biggest mistake of my life; I become a prisoner of my own decision. I had an inkling that ordinary boring existence is not for me, but I never realize the extent of it and how it would affect my life in general. I lost everything but everything including my freedom- the only thing that is more important than my two children- I sacrificed them for it. Now I have nothing.

I can’t find inspiration in my current situation. It is monotonous and boring. Predictable and bland. Limited. No excitement no passion no surprises. I hate it.

What can I do? Start all over again? Fly away and exchange certainty/security for the unknown? Is it doable in my current physical condition? Dreams and fantasies are alright but would the reality resemble it? Would I regret my sudden change of heart? 

Sometimes I think/believe that everything is better than this. That it is better to suffer than be dead while you’re still alive. That I have only one chance to live this life and if I’m not going to do it I will spend the rest of my remaining years unhappy and miserable. Numb and a vegetable. Sometimes I think I have to be content with what I have (which is plenty) stop chasing my fantasies and accept my destiny/faith. Realize that people do get old and have to grow up and be responsible.

But everything in me is screaming for freedom. Every fibre of my body longs for a change. My feelings tell me that this is wrong, wrong, wrong. They say follow your heart and it will lead you where you want to be. Believe me, if I follow my heart, I will be out of here in a minute with only the clothes on my back. I did it once before. It brought me here. Not my first choice but the only sensible ( and still is the best) choice. But I’m dying here. Literally. I am not afraid to die but not this way, meaningless and slowly rotting away.

When I look in the mirror these days I can’t recognize myself anymore. I am not even the shadow of the man I used to be. I become a totally different person with different priorities, set of morals and values. This is not me. I am not a caged domesticated bird nor a hothouse flower. I was wild, I was a gipsy, I was free.

Now, I am locked in my golden cage dying slowly…


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