The Only Thing I Still Want In Life. The Memoir of a Dying Self.

I remember the feeling of innocence when I was a kid. Before I sold my beautiful little heart to the thing called “Personality”, which only kept on growing suffocating weeds in the flower garden of my innocence. I remember how it felt, before I became good at this and bad at that and a rebel, an asshole, a genius, a liar, a soldier, grumpy, wild, hilarious, unmanageable, snotty, bloody, kind, selfish...before my heart was broken and before I broke someone else's.

I remember how it felt to wake up excited for no specific reason. With no plan. Air was cracking with magic and my room was a universe of possibilities. I was delighted when it was sunny. Dust was rising off my feet as I was running up the dirt road in front of our house. I was delighted when it rained. I'd be all muddy as I explored the depth of every pool filled with brown murky water, marveling at the multitude of snails coming from the green lushness.

I remember how it felt to be safe and loved. When our mother called us for supper, her voice carrying across the fields and gardens, as we raced from our hiding place with my little brothers, to sit in front of a smoking plate of hot soup, admiring the dust in the beard of our sweaty father. He was the strongest man in the world.

I remember how it felt to love with no restrain, no conditions, no fear. Back then it felt ordinary, I didn't know how else to live. Everything was perfect the way it was, and even if I tried to change things, it wasn't because I didn't love them, but because it was fun to play the game of change. Even when I tortured our cat, there was love in it. I talked to trees and birds, they were no strangers to me.

I remember how it felt to have no worries. Before I realized that whole world runs on money. Before I had my idea of who I am and my opinions to stand for, my place in the world to defend. I knew that I can do miracles, so why worry. This world is my home, my mother, and how could ever big Mama betray me.

I remember how it feels to lose it. I am living it now, the feeling of loss. I was curled up on my lonely bed last night, sobbing in despair, and calling my mother to come back from heaven. It was another night of nightmares, and I woke up in the dark with my little heart racing and an echo of a scream dying on my lips. Fears as old as ancient temples at the bottom of the ocean are raging through me, tearing everything apart.

I know how it feels, to be a liar, a cheater, runaway, loner, loser, someone who betrayed the very ones who loved him. It hurts too much.

So God, take that ax and chop my head off, because I am ready. I wanna die before my body dies. I've had enough of this thing called personality. Take that burden off me, cause I want to see the world through the eyes of a kid again, not through the shadow of mind. I hear that kid cry in me every night and it's time that it rejoices again. I want to love without story behind it, without reason, without agenda and mission, without shame and guilt.
Take it back, I am giving it up willingly. I don't need to be successful and admired. I don't need to make it and be someone.

I just want to be innocent again.

Love,
Jan