A. S. Field [Mezei]: Falling into Nothing

She feels distant from her former self. She tries to remember what she was like as a child, a teenager, or a young adult, and she realizes that she was natural, naive, and too honest. She remembers how those around her called her stupid, treated her, and distanced themselves from her. After a while, she also kept herself away from the world. But since when? When did the break occur, if there was one? Was there a moment when she stepped back, or was the change continuous, like rain carving a trench into stone? Or did she break once, like the tip of a knife that she thought was solid steel, but bounced off when she used it as a screwdriver?

She used to love life. She loved to laugh, to just be, to live into nothingness, and not care about the consequences. In fact, she didn't even think about such things. Mere existence doesn't think about consequences. The veil of influence on the environment covering everything does not even pass over her carefree mind.

She did not realize how beautiful she was, and that she could do something with it, and so she wasted her best years. At least, the best in terms of appearance, because her mind was not yet cultivated or conscious at that time. She was a little envious of those who knew what they wanted to be at the age of twenty, and also knew the path to their goal from somewhere.

She had no goal, so her path did not meander before her, especially not leading straight ahead, like a lighted highway in the maze of life. Teachers tried to guide her, one this way, another that way, but she did not feel suitable to be attached to anything for a lifetime. She just wanted to be easy, and for the world to leave her like this, and not adjust her, force her into it, but let her go free.

But she was not brave enough. Too many times she had heard that she shouldn't be like this, she shouldn't do things like that, she should stand in line, she should learn, she should answer when asked. Too many times she had been slapped, she had been pulled by the arm, that she shouldn't jump and skip, but she should walk nicely. Too many times she had seen the pursed lips that turned away from her in a languid way, the mocking smiles, the flashes of glances that gloated over her troubles.

Now she knew that she had wasted her years, that had been spent in fruitless fights, and had been reduced to dust on the altar of unrequited loves. But where was the moment when all this was finally decided? When she let go, gave up the light of childhood? When was it that the world stood aside, and they let go of each other's hands? Who stepped forward first? She rushed forward, the world looked down on her, or did it never watch her crazy, wild dance with the winds? When did the glide remain with her in a meaningless, frozen silence, drifting to the edge of the world, like an autumn leaf in winter rain?

*****

I wait for spring, I count the minutes.