I can’t go back to how it was
But I can’t go back, back to how it was.
This is the place to call my home, and I can’t go back, back to how it was. You can’t turn back after tasting happiness, even if that place is only in my head. It is a whole different world inside there, and call me crazy if you will, because you have not and will not ever experience what I have.
I am torn between reality and the voices in my head, but I can never mix the two up, for the only times I am truly happy are when I am asleep. That’s when I am flying, and where the forest comes alive.
I’ve gone too far, too deep into the realms of my imagination. The forest, it is huge. It is vaster than any ocean, and yet it settles my stomach like the gentle crashes of the waves do, back when I’m awake. My only refuge when I am awake is the sea. I yearn for it, and my skin prickles when it feels the salty wind brush past. I remember looking from a bridge, and it was a high tide. I could feel myself touching the frothy bubbles which the waves made. I got closer, leaning down, inching forward until the pain of the metal railing against my body stopped me from getting what I wanted. That’s right. I wanted freedom, and the child in me believed so hard that if I got into the waters, it would carry me some place far away, and I could be free. I’d spend my days bathing in the warm glow of the moonlight, and just drifting along, until I get to the place where I could call my home.
Now I found it, the place which I could call my home. I am alone now, barefooted, and treading on grass so soft that it feels like I am on carpet. I know this place better than the back of my hand. Every move I make- and every turn, brought me somewhere closer to where I belong. I have not been here before, but my mind is awake and excited. It is leading the way as though I was born from an oak tree from this very place. My heart is wild, and I can’t seem to place the tinge of familiarity settling on the tip of my tongue. It tastes sweet, and I feel that I deserve to laugh because my heart is singing. Back where I was awake, they called their inability to jump high gravity, but here, I don’t feel any of it. I take a leap, and I still don’t make a sound. And I’m halfway through the air till I can almost touch the clouds. I fly. It is exhilarating, and as I soar, I feel a tickle in my tummy.
And then I see it. Suddenly I feel heavy like stone. On impulse, my body starts to pummel downwards until I caught my breath again and floated upwards. #52, I said.
I don’t know what I meant, but I fly towards the great big oak anyway. I am drawing nearer to it, and I start to see images two seconds ahead of me. I am approaching the tree, and I land on the branch just a slight shade darker than the brown below. Nobody would have noticed it, but there is a door of faded brown on the bark. It looks almost as though it was engraved on, and I squint. Light sieves in through the leaves and then I see a shimmer. #52, the door reads. The visions end and I find myself standing on the branch of a darker shade and peering at the bark of the tree. There is nothing there. The door isn’t there. But I feel an impulse to push, and I try with all my might, as though the door which isn’t here might somehow open for me. There is a flash of darkness, with silence so deafening that I try to press my palms against my ears. It doesn’t last long, though, and when I can see again, I am inside a home. The furniture looks big, and my steps are unsteady, tentative. And then I realize this light following me, everywhere. I look down, and see myself bathed in warm glow. I am tinged pink, and my hands and feet have grown smaller.
The footsteps come. They are soft at first, and they start to grow louder with a distinct rhythm. A tall lady turns the bend and smiles down at me.
Mum, I said.
I can’t go back, back to how it was.
