There was once a girl who always dreamt of big things.
Big things like changing the world and bringing peace to humanity. Dreams like taking care of children and fighting for human rights. Those big city dreams gave her the desire to go to the city and become part of it.
So days passed and the present progressed to the future that her big city dreams started to unfold. She is finally becoming it.
But, she realized thereafter, that the city is the complete opposite of what she projected the future to be. It was all so romantic and surreal until the bad days crashed her and destroyed the bright sparkling paperweight of what is supposedly be.
The truth is, while I was there at the top and looking down on everyone else doing what they do, I don’t feel that much big anymore. What I felt was confusion and emptiness, but most of all—what stood out was major disappointment.
It was this feeling of falling to a rabbit hole where instead of Wonderland, you landed in hell. Always, every fucking day, you have to blend with their people while they keep on telling you to be yourself. You dress like they do, talk like they do, and shit like they do.
You’ll be stuck in places where they make so much noise that you would not hear yourself anymore and it’s practically all about commercialism.
The government uses the people and the people fuck things up so people are just fucking everybody.
The city has become overly chaotic underground because they use too much aesthetic like art and shit to cover what dirty little secrets they have.
So in the journey of wanting to be part of it, to become one with the crowd, you tend to lose yourself in greed and selfishness that in their defense is the millennial nature when in fact they screwed things up for themselves and through unconscious vengeance, they make people as horrible as them.
You join them dancing and singing in the streets of neon pink and blue lights, you close your eyes to feel the ambiance of their chill environment and drown yourself in alcohol or caffeine or whatever they drink to become demons in that hell.
As you walk their places, you lose track of where you came from. You lose track of the simple heaven in the province, the feel of fresh December air and weirdly satisfying scent of the first summer rain.
You lose the happy and safe just so you could traverse the wild and inexplicable.
You went to the city because you admired the lights that it showcased from afar. Like a blinking intangible invitation of that thing that was once your dream of the big things.
And when everything started to make sense for a lucid interval you saw your reflection on a broken mirror and you realized how broken you have also become. And you are staring at this cliché person who is not yourself.
So you want and keep on wanting to hear once again the voices of the children that built that dream, instead of listening to the deafening drums and guitar and fucked up nighttime bands.
You want and keep on wanting the comfort of your own bed in that green painted room you once called your house.
You want and keep on wanting your home. The home that caressed you as you grow to become happy and just happy.
But media. It said that life would be great in the city. That life is easy in the city. But it was all a farce and people are all just for show.
And you were entertained for a while and you enjoyed all the glitters and the glamour that it offered in a silver tray of red wine and cherry shit.
You sat on one of the red cushioned chairs and say that is your life now and everybody is doing good if not better.
But you got suffocated in the smell of smoke and weeds and the high does not feel nice anymore.
You go out and let the expensive glass fall from your grip but you did not care because who would?
And that was the divine moment.
You saw, for the first time, that the city dream is way smaller than who you once were. That the city dream is for the city people and not for aliens like you.
That let them be the devils of their own hell and you try to be human as possible.
So if you plan to leave that small and simple heaven hoping for so much more, go to another heaven but not this hell.
If you are looking for yourself, you are never going to find you here, darling.
My advice, just don’t leave at all. Or if you already did, it is not too late to go back to that same old plain home you left four years ago.