Shampoo Bottle

Fact: when you’re in a hurry to get ready, it’s always the time when something happens to delay you. So I wonder – why is it so hard to open a bottle of shampoo? A simple bottle. A goddamn bottle that can’t seem to open. It shouldn’t be so surprising, after all, we have our hands wet and it’s hard to hold it without it slipping. Almost like when we try to hold time and never manage to do so. Bloody brilliant, isn’t it? As I struggle to be fast, I realize it takes longer to be successful. Soon I’ll be late. Why is it that some situations feel like they take forever to come to an end? I’m sure you’ve all felt it before – I’m sure you’ve found yourself wishing for something to be finally over, be that a meeting, an exam, a whole day, you name it. You have been there, I’m certain. I know I have. I wanted to be at the point where I finally open the bottle. I would like it to be night already so I could go to bed again. I would like this week to be over. I would like to jump to when vacations finally start. I would like… wouldn’t you?

Are we picky? Sometimes I wonder if by thinking like this I won’t be missing out on having fun. I find myself worried all the time – silly matters, most of it. I guess I tend not to enjoy the present moment to the fullest because I’m too worried of screwing things up, of making a huge mistake that I won’t be able to repair or to say the wrong thing – we all know we can’t erase the words that come out of our mouths, and they sure as hell hurt us from then on. So yes, I care about it all. I care and it hurts me to do so. Should I stop? I cannot. It seems that as once I’ve done it, I can’t become as cold as ice – I’ve tried and I didn’t succeed. Would I really want to be as cold as ice? No, of course I wouldn’t want to. Would I like to be carefree? Yes, I would like to be so, sometimes.

I fear the commitment to whatever it may be. I could never be fully carefree. I need to have the sense of responsibilities. I need strict rules – go figure. I guess responsibilities give a sense of reason to my life. A reason to my existence – as if all of it gives a meaning to every new day giving me strength to get out of bed in the morning. It sure has been tough lately… I can’t seem to find happiness these days. I strive to look for it in the long run, so I push myself to keep going – I tell myself I might find it, if I keep going.

As reassuring as this thought may be, I must hurry. This bottle is my mark on the wall, my reality within a bubble of wonders and whys. It’s so early and it’s getting late. There’s no peace anywhere this week… Hopefully, everything else will be easier than opening a shampoo bottle…

With Love,

NOTE: This has been written in the beginning of last week which was a complete chaos for me to go through. The mark on the wall is a reference to Virginia Woolf’s short story entilted The Mark on the Wall (1921).


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