She puts on her hoodie, she sits, stares at the blank paper, draws a couple of lines and the hoodie goes off again. The Superbowl has been today’s soundtrack against her will -the downside of living in an apartment building-, how long does that stupid game last for? The air is annoying tonight, she can’t sketch in that mood, so writing seems a good idea until she finds herself looking for pimples on the arm to squeeze.
She decides to get up and do something, anything. I’ll let you know what when she’s back.
She never came back, the bed was begging her to stay, so she did. After some analyzing, she got to the conclusion that the elephant pressing her chest was caused by the worst possible thing: the unidentified. The feeling was completely new, she was clueless of what to do.
Now, there are always at least 2 paths for every situation in life: the active or the pasive, to act or to react, to be a victim or a warrior. You don’t know this woman very well yet, but I do, and I know her choice already, I knew it before today even started. It’s a matter of principles. Once you decide to fight, you’re a warrior for life.
So there she was, flirting with the elephant, letting him sink deeper. She felt the sadness, the loneliness, the anguish, and then smiled, because she knew the best way to fight the invisible and the ethereal, was patience. Everything changes if you know how to wait long enough. Just hang on and smile. Always smile.