I am looking on the internet for a word or an image that represents one of my feelings, one I struggle to describe. I initially thought that “stillness” may work, but looking carefully that was likely an inappropriate meaning for something that at the end is nothing but the wonderful inner peace, the peaceful quiet. I then tried with “stagnation”, but the dictionary describes it as “mired in the monotony”. I could have used both of them metaphorically, but that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to talk about. So, this time, I decided not to pick a specific word. Maybe someone reading how I feel can name it for me, so next time people ask me how I feel, instead of answering “well, thank you…”, I will say “I feel …”

Let me tell you how I feel. I am sure I’m not alone in this one.

Sometimes I wonder what would be the worst situation I could find myself. Have you ever wondered?

Endless and scary possibilities come across my mind… situations with no exit…

Death for example.

But what I really fear is the death of the soul. That feeling of, let’s call it, “immobility”.

That impossibility to advance or recede. That colorless feeling. That unintended calm.

A parallel dimension to life itself.

An inability to react to situations, whether good or very bad.

An escape from dangerous extremes.

An annoyingly never-ending straight line, crossing the void, not going anywhere nor coming from anywhere. A place where you are but you don’t exist.

We all are, more or less, afraid of happiness as much as to its opposite. Happynes is easy to lose, it just takes some weakness to make everything feel like collapsing. Unhappiness, instead, tends to be avoided, feared.

Who wants to be unhappy?

Yet, in both cases, I feel alive. When I am joyous, or sad, I am alive. My soul lives within these emotions and, all these feelings are what make me a complex human being.

We breathe and vibrate, thus we live.

In a straight line, instead, that movement is non existent. Is that safe? Maybe. Is it not scary at first sight? Probably not. But little by little, very slowly, it destructs every hope and, at that precise moment, we stop being humans. We become soulless carcasses, not more that a carefully placed object in a showcase at home. No one questions its presence, perhaps even its usefulness, it is there… and that’s it.

Everything we do with this feeling of immobility brings us one step closer to death. And what is it scarier than being dead alive?

I have some difficulties describing this feeling, into which, sometimes, I have lost myself. It is hard as I am fully aware of the horrible things that happen to people around me; I am really conscious of the very hard situations people have to face in life. I mean real situations like sickness, the death of a relative, unemployment, wars, there are people suffering physically and psychologically every single day of their lives.

But I, with my happy, little, pretty life, fear immobility.

I am afraid to stay still.

I am afraid that when the excitement is over, or when the pain is not enough, I will remain alone on that straight line in direct contact with that immobility.

I’m not afraid of the light or the darkness … but everything in between.

I love and I am proud of all my tears of joy and sadness… they prove that what keeps us alive is still moving inside me.

I wish I never have to stop, even if moving doesn’t always mean feeling good.

If one day you do not see in my eyes that light of joy or sorrow, you will know that I am also scared.

You will know that I am not moving.