Short stories

Always going

I sit down on the porch with a glass of white wine, breath in the fresh sea-air, close my eyes and stay completely still. I never stop. No matter how hard I have tried my whole life, I just can’t stay still. We are always going somewhere.

We grow old, that has always been hard for me to accept. It never stops, and the world gets older with us. Everyone and everything ages and dies. Letting go of the ones that have passed never gets easier. I’m not sure if we ever let go. And at the same time we should “act our age”. What ever it means in that specific time in our lives. We graduate. Or we don’t. No matter what the world rolls. There is never a good time to do anything and many reasons to not do anything.

I have always clanged on to the past, and the first so called age crisis I had when I was twelve; still not sure if it’s normal. I wanted everything to stay the same, even though my life wasn’t that great back then. Change. That was my worst nightmare. I wasn’t able to plan ahead, not that I’m now. And it still does scare me.

I’m not good at steering. So maybe it is a good thing I still don’t have my drivers licence. My plans have always changed because situations never stick. They are like the waves of the ocean. And there is no way of controlling them. They pass by, sometimes something reminds me of the biggest or smallest that have passed me.

And what I have now learned is that there is no way of earning anything. You can work hard all your life, but never achieve what you wished for. Not that our wishes would always stay the same any way. You could be the kindest person in the town and still on your own your whole life. You could be the best mother but never conceive. And the best ones die young. Life never apologizes for it, but people deal with it in some ways. Someone turns to something bigger, trusts the greater plan and says everything has a reason. Someone doesn’t even think about it. Some of us smother it, concentrate on something else, use drugs or what ever to dull it.

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