It’s Tuesday afternoon and something has changed; much like the radiant blue skies which is now a dark gray blanket, pregnant with rain.
A new wisdom rests upon my head like a crown on a king, and now that I think about it, I hate it all: the bland wallpapers, the recycled air coughed up by tired air condition vents, the boring charts of the human anatomy perching on white walls, the outdated magazines on the bureau drawer, the Gothic wall-clock. Most especially the Gothic wall-clock whose presence in a hospital is an irony in itself.
I finally understand that which leaps at me from the gloom of my subconscious, like the soft blue flame of a lit candle held out on a cold winter night- close enough that I almost feel its warmth, yet far enough that I still can not see beyond my nose.
I finally unearth the germ- the answer to a question that has haunted me for the better part of twenty-two years, buried deep within the vast, encrypted space that is my mind, cruelly suppressed by the mundane nature of my existence.
What do I truly want from Life?
I want to see the world- travel across historic cities, visit the birthplaces of the greatest works of art, meet interesting people, eat weird food, intoxicate on foreign wine, maybe even fall in love with someone who speaks in a language I don’t even understand.
I want to live, see new things, experience new life.
I want to go out there, where happiness resides. And I want to embrace it.