Clouds ☁️

There is 7 billion of us. Small little creatures looking up at the same sky and trying to catch the same star.

Even as a pilot or a passenger on a plane, you can’t touch the clouds. There is a thin piece of glass separating you from something you are trying to reach your whole life.

Every cloud is an unreachable dream of yours. So when I, as a child from a small country, get the opportunity to fly through the clouds on my way to New York fucking city I expect from myself a little more grateful and happier reaction since it’s a dream come true. 

Why now? After all times a wished for a once in a lifetime chance to go there. You know before, I would die for a walk through the places that are in so many movies or a cigarette lit on the stairs of Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment on 64 Perry Street. 

New York.      

Manhattan. 

Sex. 

and the City. 

Did you know that a cigarette lit after sex makes ten times more damage to your body than a regular cigarette lit just because you enjoy smoking and it goes well with the taste of coffee?

I wonder if life smokes after it fucks me because knowing that I think it would have cancer by now.

So why shouldn’t I?

Why shouldn’t I put my middle finger up? 

I want life to make me wanna go there. To do what it takes for me to want not average, but extraordinary chances to come true because I don’t want to miss it.

Am I missing my once in a lifetime opportunity because I refused to go under these conditions? 

I’m only sixteen, I’ll have one more chance, right? 

Clouds! Why so unreachable? 

Dreams! Why so unachievable? 

Life! Why so unpredictable? 

I mean when you want something your whole life, it seems like you could predict the feeling of excitement when you get it. But no, life pushes you to the boundaries and waits until the reaction you predicted becomes one of those ‘one day baby’ reactions. 

One day a.k.a. the empty tomorrow. They’re something like never fulfilled New Year’s resolutions.  Between the years there is only one second that makes the number of the year change. That second is the reason why it takes three months for you to get used to the change in the date you’re writing on the top right corner of the page. 

Day by day. Page by page. Change by change. 

It’s like life was created for you to change your character while you’re growing. And in most cases, you are changing for better, but I think it has come to the point where I don’t know. 

Why now? 

But if not now, when? 

Who knows? 

With love, 

Mo.