Helplessness is a deep emotion, it is when grief fills every part of your soul with the deemed thought of a lost future, where having control on what may happen is not within your scope, being truly lifeless with emotion, glaring into the reality of pain, when even melancholy feels bad to be surrounded by you, that is when you decide to lose your true self. At this moment, captivated by the indulgence of safety within my box, I want to feel helpless, but I had hope, I knew somewhere, sometime, or somehow, this train ride of confusion I am in will eventually stop and drop me to the right destination, to my home, to where I feel I belong, that is, if only I knew where home was.
At this moment, I am still trying to figure out where I am, or where would I be tossed once again. It seemed like it was just hours when I met the first person, or looked at them directly into their eyes, I haven’t felt safe until that moment, I had a moment of truth, that moment where I realized I would be saved, a distant thought now comforts my struggle.
I heard a foreign language, I didn’t understand, but I grasped that I wasn’t in my native country anymore, they were discussing something, then suddenly I was picked up and then blasted to the ground once again, then I heard laughs, this hurt my legs as they were numb, I tried to knock once again, I wanted to tell them that this box was not empty, I was in it, but as I was attempting to knock once again, they picked me up and slammed my box to the ground yet again, my back cracked, I was then picked once more, at this moment I gave up trying to rescue what was left of me, I knew this hit final or not would be the end of me, I felt my back crack once again as gravity took my body, my eyes watered its outer self, I prayed I wouldn’t be put down once again, I prayed they would hear me, I prayed they would be gentle on this box, but the laughs got louder and louder, until I couldn’t hear anymore and dozed off to oblivion.
I woke up suddenly, I wasn’t dead, my legs were fine, my back hurt but it was probably because of the position I was in, curled up like two polar bears in a jar, it wasn’t easy to correct your position, I just hoped for a toss so I could turn. I didn’t hear voices anymore, it was silent, it was empty, I couldn’t feel where I was, I placed my ear closer to the crack at the far edge of the box, I felt the strong wind blowing, passing by the box in high speeds, suddenly my box rocked back and forth, I was in a car, going fast, where was I going once again?
After some time the car stopped, this journey felt longer, but this place is familiar to me, the breeze, the smell that surrounded the box felt old, but known, I knew where I was, or I thought I knew.
I was picked up, and this person walked slowly, held the box tighter, he whispered some words, those were signs of being worried, I felt he is going somewhere he knew and was hesitant, as he was walking a tear fell on the box, he began to pick up his speed, running but I felt in slow motion towards somewhere, he put me aside, and another door opened up, I peeked through the box I wanted to see what was happening, a lady walked out, beautiful, with grey dark hair, wrinkles around her eyes, puffed face, but she was surprised to see him, she was glancing at his face for some time, then she just hugged him tightly.
I knew her, I didn’t know him, but I have seen her someplace, somewhere, I am not sure how or when but I know that I have seen her. Then it hit me. This was my mother, and she doesn’t know I am lost, almost 15 feet away from her. She hugged him and comforted him, before walking in she asked him about carrying the box he left outside, I started to knock and scream, wishing that she would hear me, hoping she would help me, but he smiled and nodded, she then kissed him and they walked inside.
I am left outside once again, now I know the true meaning of being helpless.