The Art of Walking Away…

She is running down the jetty barefoot. The ocean is wild, Like her.

She is running down the jetty barefoot.
The ocean is wild,
Like her.
She has just left behind
the corporate seafood platter.
The food looked at her,
the people did not.
She was alone in one of those fake crowds.
Full of empty and fully painted faces.
Those places she hated.
They tried to impress each other
with big words and their education.
We are so wonderfully conformed.
We have manners and know it all.
So goddamn self-approved.
And of course we drink champagne,
from expensive glasses.
All she had eaten so far
was a very expensive slice of white bread.
Not even dipped in oil,
it felt like betraying herself
Stay away from that oil, baby.
The waiter placed a napkin on her lap.
She was not even allowed to do that herself?
Etiquette, honey, mind your manners dear!
Four different forks,
three knives and a pair of something
that looked like a bone breaker?
Was this an invitation?
Let me use my fingers please!
It won’t be very ladylike,
the girl next to her stated mortified.
This, the only verbal statement
all night that made her smile.
Her head kept spinning the same words over and over.
Cinderella took a big breath
and almost choked.
These shoes so tight,
this dress showing too much.
She felt naked, fully dressed.
She felt so lonely in this crowd.
Surrounded by superficial emptiness.
She suddenly understood
that they had just used her,
put her into those shoes
that really started to hurt her now
She felt an unknown sadness
rising with a tsunami of tears
coming up from her heart.
She stood up, made her way past
the empty-faces tribe and walked out.
Quietly and strongly.
One painful step after the other.
And she felt a sensation
rush through her body
that she had not felt in a very long time,
a freedom of unknown consequence.
She had not even reached the door
when she took off her glass shoes
She started to breathe deeply and freely.
When she opened the door
the freshness and rawness of the wild ocean
hit her body with full force.
She felt like dancing and running.
So she did, in her own rhythm, space and time.
Her heart felt like a drum of joy and relief.
She left it all behind.


And in that sacred moment
she finally understood herself,
and her sense for unreasoning and misbehaving.
She was not one of them,
she was of a different kind.
She had spent weeks
trying to figure out what to wear,
nothing seemed to fit.
She had tried to mold
into their little cake tins,
so little space,
so many borders,
but their mold never seemed to fit,
she was too unique,
too much of herself.
She does not wear a mask,
she loves to sit on the ground,
jeans and t-shirt, eating with her bare hands.
She is wild and ecstatic.
She wants the juicy fruit
to drip down her chin,
her hair dancing in her face.
Her freckles uncovered.
Her eyes sparkling with the joy of her own life.
The conversation is laughter and that’s all.
Enjoying life’s messiness.
She spent the whole year
working for their dreams.
Her own dreams silently
drowned in their disapproval.
You can’t.
You should.
You should not.
You know that won’t work.
Now there she was,
at an expensive restaurant
in a crowd that was not hers.
And so she left,
And just because.
No excuses, no explanations.
She just left.
If felt so goddamn right.
She was bombarded with texts and
phone calls all night…
We love you, where are you?
Are you okay?
You are the best ever!
She left her shoes behind that night.
Cinderella left the ball .
Not for a prince and his fake tribe.
No, for herself.
She broke free.
Once and for all.
And now she is creating
and setting free who she is.
Maybe she succeeds, maybe she fails.
In all of this she is now choosing
to be true to herself.
She has left her shoes at the ball.
They don’t fit anymore.
She has outgrown them.
Most likely she is never
going to wear shoes again.
Tell me, would you ever want to wear a glass shoe?
~ deep respect for the artist, whoever she is…

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