I wanted to belong somewhere. I wanted to feel content. Time went by but I couldn't escape the feeling of being a circulating dust all these years. I was looking for a place where I could sit and do nothing, but just be happy.
I've seen and read all different types of people, those with money, fame, extraordinary life achievements. I was hoping any of them could show me the way to follow. Eventually, I realized nobody in this world can be perfect. I had to admit that is how we are built. I had to face the reality.
When I was young, I believed as I would get older, everything would be clear and I would finally understand things better. But it seems they kept getting more complex and complicated. My desire of having a clear explanation about life seems never ending.
Why do we suffer? Why do parents fight all the time? Why my dad had to come home drunk every night and why my mom had to cry the saddest way in the dark? Why do people pretend their life is perfectly normal but in fact, it isn't? Why do they compare with others habitually? Why can't we be satisfied with what we have?
Everybody in this world is looking for something. So am I.
Everybody is running for the goal they have set up,
But I wonder, when do they reach the finish line, are they happy?
My ultimate question is when will I finally realize what I'm born to be.
Time goes tick-tock, everybody rushing in and out. They must have had a reason to be carrying their lives. I'm sitting down in a corner of a cafe, looking at them, and wondering what made them to be here, what made them to live on?
People say, our life is the result of constant choices that we have made. We're endlessly trying to fill the void in between. Sometimes this individual void can be filled with alcohol, gambling, drug, work, hurtful words or violence. Sometimes their bad choices slowly poison themselves but also their loved ones. Sometimes they become a blinded monster but sadly they can't see themselves.
Have I seen these monsters in my own life? Yes, plenty. Is it only in the past? No. I'm seeing them everyday life, I listen their stories everywhere. How do I feel about them? I feel powerless, I feel useless. My only comfort is writing about them, that's all I can do. I write with my heart. I don't know how to use fancy words, and I don't want my writing to be complicated; because I believe in simplicity and it doesn't need to be elaborate.
I am still dreaming. I see a happy family. Mom and dad and children get together around a dinner table. I smell of mom's home made food. It can be a Kimchi stew with a bowl of rice or a Spaghetti with meat sauce, sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. It doesn't have to be complicated to fill our hungry stomach. All we need is being together and sharing humble food.
[ This piece is for the contest of "word by word retreat" by Story Studio Chicago. I just have made close to 500 words and theme of "Time and Space". Wish me good luck! ;) ]