MARY JANE'S STORIES: ETHEREAL

 MARY JANE'S STORIES: ETHEREAL

Fatigue was painfully hurting the limbs, and the mind was gripped by heavy thoughts. The aseptic greyness of the subway was so leaden that I was feeling like suffocating.  Those days spent chasing the few dollars needed to pay rent and bills at the end of each month made no sense to me; I was just one of the many empty-eyed souls wandering all around the city like hard working ants. We were all quietly sitting on those cold train benches extinguishing like shaky candle lights, all victims of the same destiny. I was probably going overboard with my nonsense philosophizing since my fellow travelers seemed motivated by and interested in the myriad of posts scrolling down their social media feeds, while I couldn't focus on the book that was now lying inert and open at the same page that I have already and  unsuccessfully read several times. I couldn't ignore the voice of my conscience incessantly echoing deep inside of me; that voice was getting so heavy and persistent that I couldn't avoid the many questions brutally limiting my concentration. The train was finally approaching my stop. I was well aware of the streets I was about to walk on, and of the same shops and buildings down the road to my apartment that would daily catch my attention. After turning the key in the lock and meeting the eyes of my kitties and doggie welcoming me at the door, my heart finally stopped jumping and I sighed a breath of relief. It was a warm evening of spring and it felt well worth it to sit on the backyard's steps and observe the beauty of the stars. Why have humans lost the habit of dreaming under the starry sky? How could living be fully enjoyable if we can't even find some time to reflect on the magnificence and vastness of the universe? What's the point of collecting riches that make human beings slaves of the tyrant we created, money? I was smiling at all men basking in their possessions and fame based on fake, low-standard attitudes and morals! What's the meaning of notoriety if said attribute isn't based on a real, lovable and selfless contribution to humanity? Why obsess over the search for the meaning of life if we aren't capable of accepting the real reason we exist (being born, growing up, creating new life and dying)? It sounds like a poor explanation but, according to Nature's laws, we aren't meant to generate cash, take advantage of one another, lie to one another, judge each other based on personal perceptions and brag about who we are or what we have. We have been deceived by our greed and avarice to the point we aren't able to look at our less fortunate brothers and sisters into the eyes, and lend a hand of unconditional love. I got chills thinking about the concept of humanity and society since the beginning of civilization and the differentiation in social classes. What am I? I am everything and nothing. I'm just a brain too tired of seeing, listening and tasting; I'm a brain prisoner of a body that often feels out of my control. I was shedding tears in agony every time I tried to escape from the oblivion and, once I reached the other side, I looked around lost and numb. My hand finally approached my lips to light up the joint they were holding tight. I inhaled and exhaled at the top of my lungs desperately searching for some inner peace. Suddenly the chaos of my existence became clear and peaceful, and a brand new gaiety was suddenly alive deep within. I was smiling at myself  and everything surrounding me because in that moment I  became, along with the world, simply and splendidly ethereal. Martina.