I was leaning on the rock. It was pretty cold. However, it was relieving to feel something cold and strong behind my back. After a couple of minutes, it was still hard to breathe, and my heart seemed to jump off the chest. I was telling myself to breath deeper. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. However, after a couple of minutes and seeing the path that leads further, I just felt how my knees started shaking and bending. I barely heard and saw what’s going around me. I just knew that panic attack was coming up too fast and I wouldn’t be able to control it any longer. I had to run away to the safer place.
When the grasshoppers become loud in the evenings even in the city, I realised that summer is coming to an end. It’s August. The last month of summer was always nostalgic for me. The warm wind and intense orange shades of sunset forces to stop for a moment or two and appreciate everything that is around.
Mid-twenties are a strange age, or let me say, a strange place to be. On the one hand, you want still be a teenager who only has fun, but on the other, you want to be a grown-up who has his/her life put together.
On Sundays, some people have breakfast in the afternoon. Maybe a significant other brought a mug of hot coffee to bed and turned on TV to watch a National Geography to look for inspiration for summer destinations. Maybe someone had problems with getting up because of too many margaritas, mojitos or tequila shots on Saturday night, and only meowing cat forced to leave a cozy bed and give some food to a furry friend. Maybe an interesting book feeds more than pancakes with strawberry jam, and a stomach starts asking for something to eat only when the last page of the book is turned over. But some of us, for instance, me, gets up early on Sunday morning, drinks her coffee and thinks about all these things that happened this year. Can you believe that April comes to an end? I cannot, but I learnt a lot.
It’s strange how desperate craving for life might appear during the darkest mornings and quietest nights. You may find yourself crying on the bathroom floor and counting the years how long have you been participating this activity. The fear that years might turn into decades might get you goosebumps. Then you feel tired. Tired of all these years. You may feel the desperate need to stop it, or at least find another bathroom floor. It has to stop. You have to end it.
There’s no such as thing as perfect timing. Time is never right or wrong; only we can make it good or bad. The right time is a non-existent and misleading concept created by those who needed an excuse for not doing something. Sadly, those who tend to delay, are always too busy or wait for the miracle gladly accepted it. Believing in destiny is not a bad thing if it’s combined with an action plan. If not, sitting and waiting for the perfect time is just a waste of life. Who wants to sit on the sofa and what how his or her life just passes by? We will never be as young as we are this moment.