I’ve never been more tired in my life. I am drinking Tilleul Linde tea and letting the day seep through my muscles. I have just completed my classes for my semester abroad in Paris and while it feels good, the exhaustion lets itself into my soul with full force. After the exam, I just wanted to let go of everything, so I took myself to the grocery store and put myself in the shoes of someone else. Someone who might have nothing, what would I want them to give me if I was like them?
……………….sometimes I just need to get out of my head…………………..
So I did. It wasn’t that the exam didn’t go well, it did, I just needed something tangible again. At times, I feel that the people in Paris are as zombies on the metro, each experiencing exhaustion and longing to be away from being surrounded by all the people. Like me. Maybe to everyone who sees me in Paris, maybe I look exactly as a Parisian. But lets make an important distinction here, I am not.
You can feel like something if you are a part of the scene, so all the people act the same, all the blank faces. The lights illuminating the shiny Gucci bags and preppy boy shoes. So you get home and wash off the make up and prepare the aspirin. Paris is the place where all day long it”s waiting for the night to ask her out so that she can let her hair down…but the morning is full of doubts and again the reformation of the scene.
…………………………….So to make life pretty…………………………………
I wanted to get out of my skin. I wanted to reach out and touch something that had nothing to with me in a city that is obsessive with itself. So I bought a loaf of bread, peanut butter, tin foil, chocolate cookies. I marched myself to Châtelet and found an individual who was in a time of disparity. I couldn’t tell if he/she was awake or how old he/she was but I didn’t need to know these details to see the tiredness that weighed on ones shoulders. I can see the pause in the corner as the rest of society moves rapidly forward. The stumble that leaves you permanently on the outskirts of the dance.
So I left the bag beside him/her and walked away. I play the puppet of the crowd but I have no place or character to play. I only find the tiredness of myself as I hold things together. I saw the disapproving looks in the eyes of some as I acknowledged the existence of whom they refused to. I cannot fix the problem, I cannot give someone a home, I have a long list of things I cannot do. Perhaps, to some that makes the small things they can do unimportant.
But I was raised that even the smallest of things that bring joy to another, to life, that are kind, are worth doing. And so, I will continue to do.