Who is holding the end of my red string? People say that humans have a red string of fate, and at the end of it, is their soulmate. We experience moments of sitting in silence, sitting in loneliness, sitting in emptiness. Its moments like these that make me ask, where is the person who will make these moments much more bearable?
Where am I going? The red string tied around my waist doesn’t move unless I do. It doesn’t pull me in any direction; doesn’t guide me or help me. It’s stressful that I have to find my other half alone. Scary even. My red string knows all the answers, and it knows where it ends. It knows who will make me whole.
But why doesn’t it give me a hint?
A riddle? Something!
Will someone hold me? I don’t want to be drowning in a state of dreaming, a state of imagination, living in my head, wondering, hoping, creating a life where I find my someone.
And yet, here I am. Heartbroken and questioning. My red string not giving me a clue to anything. My heart has been broken before by people who might have had the end of my red string. But they did not; instead, I was left alone in a dark room questioning my identity. Why didn’t my red string tell me to stay away from them? To scream and pull and scratch and beg and claw at me to not let them in, to not let them know me the way only one person in the world should. I am alone in this fog, struggling to find the way out.
I am trapped deep. It looks pretty and kind, welcoming and confident, lovely and beautiful, but it’s another illusion, and I am lead down a dark path full of pain and hardship leading me back to that dark room where I wallow in self-pity and ugliness.
But my red string doesn’t light my way out of the fog. The red string doesn’t stop me. It’s just there, wrapped around my waist, waiting for me to find the end of the string. I am alone going through these relationships that might not even bring me to the end of my string.
Maybe I just need to leave here and go somewhere new. Escape this society that I have trapped myself in and discover a new place full of all the things I need. Maybe I need to find my red string alone; perhaps there is a reason to it all, an answer, a purpose for having us travel by ourselves. There has to be. I won’t accept it any other way.
So here I am, on a plane headed to Europe to find not only the end of my red string but also myself. Everything I’ve ever wanted has to be out there, in the world, and I can hear it calling me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. This call to adventure is pulling forward more than my red string ever has.
I’m tired of going through painful relationships and being cast aside while I give my all to this relationship while my partner doesn’t look genuinely at me. Each one the same, each one followed the same routine, each one ripped me apart, each one made me question who I am and if I am worthy of real love and kindness. If I stayed home, in that suffocating town with those tiresome people, I think I would have given up everything and married the next person I found regardless of who they were.
This feeling that I am not worth anything good is slowly taking over my mind, it is creating an infestation, and if I don’t find a cure to get rid of it quickly, I don’t want to know what will happen to me.
The plane is starting to descend, and thus my adventure begins.