Friday, November 16, 2012

We Can Fly People

  The book of the past... I opened it again and the old pages started telling the old story. I don't even know what makes me go back. Did I miss the old tale? Maybe. I don't want to go back, I don't want to go through that anymore. But still, something forces me to go through those old, dusty pages, to read them one more time, to read out loud. Why?
  I want to change the ending of the story. I want it to be more realistic or just less selfish. We made it all so complicated, people always do that. I wanted the story to have a simple ending, something that is expected, but leaves no marks.
I want to change the ending, to make it so small and unimportant so that I will never look back to the old pages. I want it to be so certain and even boring so that the old book never interests me anymore. I want to change the ending, so I can simply move on and forget the old book.
  How funny... We people are so funny and poor. We take the smallest matters and turn them into a giant book. We take a sentence with no meaning and follow it for the rest of our lives, our pathetic lives. We give meanings to things that are not important. We are scared of the facts that maybe do not even exist outside of our imagination. Maybe we live nowhere else but in our minds. Maybe we are nothing else but characters of somebody's dream. Eventually that person will wake up, we will vanish away, the dream will be over. There will be nothing left, the dream will be gone, we will be gone... Everything will be gone, except those worries that we created long time ago. Those worries will still be hanging from trees like empty jars, with a strong surroundings and no meanings inside. Is that all we leave to this world? Empty jars of worries and problems? How about colourful balloons, full of smiles? How about bright lights, decorating the dark streets? How about light paper planes taking our dreams to the wonderland? How about...
  When did it happen? When did we start carrying those heavy bags of books? Why do we still carry those books of the past events? Why? We could fly. People could fly if they wanted to. I could fly if I was strong enough to leave those old books. But no! We carry them, we take them with us everywhere! We go back, read the same pages over and over again, delete the word and replace it with a one that is more aggressive, more painful. And we keep reading it, imagining it, again and again, again and again... and again... again... again
   I'm tired people, I want to fly. I want to  be as light as a feather in the wind. I don't know about you, but I'm throwing my old books away.
  I want to fly! I am going to fly!

                                                                                                                     © LiLit Ghazaryan  

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