There is a kind of loneliness that you want to run away from. You try to run with frozen legs. As when you dream of running and can’t. It’s the Christmas you will never have. The hug you will never receive when something goes wrong. There’s only you and you know you are enough, but still… That emptiness. You try to imagine how a nice lovely meal with family would be like, but you can’t. It’s like you are missing words from a language you thought you understood. But you know you are different. It’s that ritual of calling your parents every day while living abroad that you never had. You tried to escape. You are still running. Somehow. Whatever that means. You carry a weight. The guilt is less strong, but you can still smell it. You crave a peace you might not ever have. You walk really. But you keep going and that’s all that matters.
It’s not even December and that thought…. You won’t have what you want. The lights will mean something else to you. You like colours a lot, but it’s not the meaning most people associate them with. There’s no designated table waiting for you. You think you are cool, because every Christmas is different for you. But you know you are just desperate for coziness, warmth and love.
And yet, there is still a world to discover. You’ll still try to run. To find something. Maybe different. Maybe new. Maybe the right thing for you. Maybe you will invent new words for your own world. Maybe you’ll find the hug you always wanted. You don’t know yet. Just keep walking.
