I tried my best to remember the last time I stood on that line: there was serenity and there was also chaos. I half-mindlessly stepped back as I was a woman afraid of anything outside the line, let alone the line itself. Yet, courageously, I stood on that line, thinking, may be this would be the start of something amazing, something I was unaware I was looking for, something the other side, which I was accustomed of, couldn’t give me. That other side, my side, was the safest side anyone could have ever imagined. But my side was also a dead-end, amazing, but a DEAD-END.
I imagined myself staying on my side, comfortable and familiar, something I could easily control (or so I thought). However, something inside me was aching – an ache which only grew as I see that in the another side of that line is light – a light which is uncommon, unfamiliar, yet looked promising. I have never seen such light. I have never seen a place where a light such as that could ever glow in a way my eyes couldn’t fathom. Sometimes, I fear the light or maybe it was not the light I was afraid of, maybe I was afraid of something unfamiliar, uncomfortable yet too clear for my own perspective. So, I stayed on my safe side for very long.
It was calling, that another side. It never stopped calling me. I remembered the first time it called me: it was clear yet unnerving. How am I supposed to follow the light? How am I supposed to step forward and leave my safe side? I remained in my safe side because it was familiar. It was common. It was home. You can never go wrong in anything familiar.
Years passed by, my side grew darker and darker. I thought I could control anything on my safe side. But the darkness, I couldn’t. So I run as far away I could to escape the dark. Yet, it never stopped following me. I run as far away I could which lead me on that line, that line I was most afraid of, the uncertainty, the unfathomable, the line in which the light shines.
Now, I am standing on that line again: there is chaos but there is also serenity – an air of calmness and peace.
I am still half-minded, boggled by the same thoughts. I want to reach the another side. I want to be one of the lights. I want to hold it in my hands and see what my hands will become. But I know, right here, on this line is where I meant to be for now. May be, it is okay not to know what’s in the light. Maybe, it is not yet the right time to step out of the line. Maybe, just maybe, there is freedom in knowing that this line, this invisible line, will still be here, under my feet, letting me see what’s behind and letting me look forward on what is behind that light.
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