„Out there somewhere, better things await,” I used to tell myself, staring at the distant hills. The mysterious silhouettes, black shadows soaked in reds and oranges of the setting sun. I always wondered what was hidden behind them, what was kept from my eyes. But I never dared to discover.
Now, all the people I was so afraid to leave stand there in silence, looking down at what’s remained of me—a body trapped in a wooden box that will soon find its place in the dirt. Tears start to fill their eyes as they bury me in the earth.
“Out there somewhere, she’ll find peace,” they whisper faithfully, nodding their heads towards the sky.
And I feel sorry. But not for them.
I feel sorry for myself. I feel as if I owe an apology to that part of my soul who wanted to climb the hills, to the kid who never really stopped believing.
I’m sorry I was such a coward. Always afraid of stepping ahead and standing up for myself. Always paralyzed with fear. Always scared of ending up alone.
I’m sorry I gave up so easily. Let the insecurities eat me alive. Watched my dreams fade away. Stood still while the days slipped through my fingers like grains of sand. I wasted so much of my precious time. Didn’t seize the day. Took so many things for granted. Forgot about the fragility of life.
I’m sorry I never gave myself the chance to be the person I wanted to be. I always blindly did what others told me to do. Always tried so hard to live up to somebody’s expectations.
I’m sorry I let down the kid in me who cried for something more.
Now I’m out there somewhere. And I’m sorry I forgot to live.
Another piece inspired by an InMon prompt.