It was like waking up. A woke up that took a very, very long time. Slightly brutal and and fiercely soft. Suddenly I realized I could move. I wasn’t (anymore?) in one of those weird dreams where you try to catch a train but you can’t run fast enough, and the platform is never ending. Suddenly it was reality. I could get up and do things. But it also meant that I had to adventure myself out of warm sheet and dreams where I could just let myself float. It was frightening and exciting.
Awaking to life was long. And short. I wouldn’t be able to tell when it started exactly. As you can’t say when you really woke up. Not that I wasn’t living before. But it was like opening my eyes and catch a ray of sun, feel the sheets around my legs and the fresh air on my skin. I was living, yes. But like when you wake up you realize you’re awake. My awakening made me conscious of my life.
And knowing I was alive changed my perspectives. I was free, becauseI knew I was. The chances for me to exist as myself were very, very, very low. But I was. And by awaking I went from existing to living. I grabbed my reality and started to create it. I took my freedom and started shaping my life. This is just the beginning. This is my journey.