A Small World
My world was large. It was just a click away to buy a plane ticket, a swipe away to book a room, a check-in away to go and breathe in another city. To visit museums whenever an exhibition got me in obsessive mode, to go to the opera, to simply have no borders. My world was large and then it began to shrink until it barely extends over my house. It shrunk initially forced, tied down by a disease. And then it began to live, like Miss Haversham, just from memories when it was fabulous. Tiny, constricted not by external factors, but by itself. It just decided that a snail or a tortoise approach is better. It feels better to stay in a cocoon, exit just for necessity, like a self-imposed Rapunzel. Minus the hair, because that gets cut in strange ways every now and then.
My world got small. I hear of puzzle pieces outside it disappearing: people, locations, events, attitudes. The snapshot is irregular and even if the world got back to being large again, it would take a while before it returns to being carefree. Before everything is just a click, a swipe, a check-in away…
My world got small. It still fits. But in this small world I cannot seem to muster the larger-than-life attitude. The loud, cool, taking too much space, having too many opinions me. That one fit me better. And i seem to have misplaced it.