I was born 31 years ago. I was born with dreams and high hopes.
I left Poland, my home country, to pursue freedom, love and beautiful adventures.
I found everything I wanted. I am hungry for more.
Then I got sick – not something dramatic, but it keeps me alert to my own physical limits.
I feel vulnerable. I also feel passionate about my job. I want to give it all I have. It looks like it is not sufficient. I feel overwhelmed. I see tired and stressed faces of my colleagues and suppliers. I see a tired face when brushing my teeth in the morning.
I feel frustration, sadness and anger. I feel fear.
Yesterday I went to see fireworks with two crazy, lovely Moroccan ladies. (Girls, I love you!)
I liked everything except the crowd. It made me nervous.
I took a taxi to get back home: “Did you hear about the terrorist attack in Nice?”
“Hmm, I beg your pardon? No, I did not (!!??)”. Loads of swear words followed.
I was unable to go to sleep straight. I watched the news. I cried.
“31-year-old French-Tunisian driver killed dozens of people.”
My boyfriend is 35-year-old and originated from Tunisia. He became French a few months ago, a few weeks after I did.
France is not the only country suffering from violence. It is everywhere. It happens all the time.
Millions of people survive each day with less than 2 dollars. I feel lucky to have a flat, a job, something to eat and beautiful people to laugh with.
Today I feel tired, sad, and anxious.
I want the world to be safe, joyful and full of love: for myself, for others, for future generations.
Today I went out to buy a camera to register video interviews with inspiring people.
When I was going back home in the hot and crowded Parisian subway, I could not stop my tears.
I felt embarrassed and pathetic. I looked like a depressed Cocker Spaniel. My big blue eyes got wet and red. I was trying hard to stop crying. I could not. I had nothing to dry up my tears.
A middle aged woman sitting in front of me was searching for something in her bag. Just before I rushed to get out at my stop, she gave me a few paper handkerchiefs.
When I was heading to another subway line, I read on the packaging: “Freshness. Mint.”
It was written in Polish. I was stunned. My compatriot saved me from drowning in my own tears.
I have Polish roots, a magic French passport and nothing to declare.
I dream of travelling around the world and giving birth to multicultural crazy babies. 🙂
I have always considered myself ambitious and strong. Today I am vulnerable and I need a hug.
I feel sad and it is fine. I am OK.
My hunger for new experiences got bigger and my joy of being alive deeper.
God bless us all. Tomorrow is another day. With a little luck, we will still be breathing.
As long, as I am breathing, I am safe. And I feel love. Oh yeah!