2016 was by far the best year of my life so far. It was the first time I moved out of home, it was the first time I had a full time paying job, it was the first time I moved to a different country. It is a year I will never forget. Every time I reflect on my memories of 2016, I become happy, sometimes longing to go back to a better time.
If happiness was a building, I was sitting on the top, legs dangling, looking out at the world below me. Problems were small and distant, and life was great.
Then, came to fall.
With the rising hype comes the great crash. I began to fall from that building of happiness, and soon found myself lying on the pavement unable to move. To onlookers I looked fine physically, but I was broken inside. I could not move. Often people would stop and see if I’m okay, but when assured that I’m physically fine, they move on, wishing me well.
I sometimes found the energy to move again. I would begin grasping at the walls of the building, pulling myself higher and higher, and when I reached that final ledge my fingers were aching, almost numb. I could see happiness waiting for me over the ledge, but I could not find the energy to hoist myself over that final barrier. I was too weak. And the cycle would continue. Over and over and over again. I would fall, and then climb, sometimes not even reaching near the top. Sometimes clinging to hope that I’ll get there eventually.
After awhile people stopped coming by to see if I was okay. Who could blame them? It’s the same thing over and over again, and people get bored and tired of someone who keeps falling. Why can’t she just stay up there? If only it were that simple.
I don’t want anyone to stand on top of the ledge to pull me up; one day I’ll be able to find my way back to happiness. Right now, all I ask is for someone to be there to catch me when I fall. I don’t want to hit that pavement again.