A strange feeling

You wake up from a dreamless sleep and you find that to be inconvenient. You throw some water at your body while trying to figure out who you are and you hope that you’ll figure it out along the way. You wipe with the towel that smells like yesterday and then dress yourself with the same worn up clothes. You get out of the house and you walk as if you take somebody else’s steps. Out on the streets, dogs are barking and you remember what you once heard an old man say: “they never yap at a good man”. It’s a strange feeling – to have the dogs remind you who you are. As if they know much.

The streets are wide and the city feels unfamiliar. You think it’s time for a change.

A new beginning.

You try not think about that. And yet you do. You decide to drag the same empty shell along the city for just a little longer, until the time will remember you.

You get to work and the coffee that tastes like paper complements the bitter taste in your mouth. The others move around like robots, echoes made to remind you that you are alone in this world. You remember a time when your body seemed too small, a prison for your infinite spirit. It’s a strange feeling to be able to remember who you were so long ago but to lose sight of who you are right now. And who will you be tomorrow.

It’s night and you seek your way to a place called home. Your steps are heavy, like a marionette with broken strings, whose sole purpose is to fill the shelves of a theater. The thought makes you shudder. You realize you’re the puppet and the puppeteer at the same time. That it depends on you and on you only to knot back the threads and throw yourself in the spectacles of this world.

You get home and you go to bed. Soon you sink into oblivion, that inappropriate sleep without dreams. A doll which forgot itself on the shelf.


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