Pt 2 And then it got real (or was it just in my head?)

So last time I told you things were about to change. In my head.

Cause that is all I had anyway, the things that were going on in my head. And somehow this becomes this funny thing, with as little external input as possible, all you are left with…is your thoughts.

Of course you start to observe other people around you, you start noticing their habits, demeanor, their behavior.

You start to notice what it feels like when someone walks by, and whether you like it or not, you start to get an idea about that person and what she's like, you may even come up with a story in your head along with a very specific profile:

Blonde girl, Eastern European-looking face, does weird ballet moves in the forest in the morning, probably a lawyer and had to come here because she’s finally gotten a glimpse into the fact that she only pursued her career to please her parents (who are getting a divorce) and she’s SO tired of constantly having to put up with her sexist male peers.

Obviously all this was just made up in my head, she could own a bakery for all I know.

But at some point I was hit with this quite confrontational realization…all of these things I am thinking about other people are made up.

I have no way of figuring out whether there’s some truth to it, in fact there probably isn’t (unless I am extremely psychic, but let’s park that.)

That line of thought then led to: Wait, if all these things that I am thinking about the other participants around me are based on, well, how fast they walk their little rounds in the park area, what they’re wearing, how they’re moving, that’s a pretty shaky source of information to draw conclusions from?

Aka I’m probably wrong. It’s all made up.

But if I am wrong about this, what else am I wrong about?

Is pretty much everything else I am thinking on any given day made up too? Is it all in my head?

Are we just walking around the streets with no supervision being like, “I just had this thought and I believe it to be true, so that’s what I am basing my decisions and actions on?”

WHAT???

I am telling you, this was only the first of many mindfucks that were to follow in the coming days.

This was still very much part of the…WHAT AM I DOING HERE GET ME OUT ASAP-phase.

Although I must say that by Day 3 the very endearing “fuck this shit” mantra was starting to wane and something else happened.

When the realization kicked in that I was not going to leave due to various reasons, some of which were:

• I knew that the first 2-3 days were going to be the hardest, so why give up over something that was kinda predictable?

• I can be stubborn AF

• I had a hunch they wouldn’t have let me go that easily anyway...though per the previous point, if I had wanted to leave, you better believe I would have found a way.

But part of me wanted to stay and so I did.

However, that meant that this other part of me started to show up, and boy oh boy did I not see her coming…

But let me back up a little. Remember the daily schedule? (If not, go back to the last newsletter, it’s copied there).

While it was actually quite nice not having to think about what to do or where to be every moment of every day, I started to notice that I did not like being told what to do… like AT ALL.

So this little rebel in me came out and she was on a MISSION TO BREAK SOME RULES.

Relax, I wasn’t going to kill anybody. But as I did predict, I had a harder time not being able to write than I thought (and hoped). Or wait, scratch that, I had a hard time not being able to capture some of my thoughts.

I thought I could just let go of them, you know, let everything flow in and out, embrace the impermanence of all that is (including my brilliant thoughts, if I may arrogantly say so).

But nope, the combination of “I’m not gonna let you tell me what to do” and “man, I would really like to write something down just now” led me to brainstorm (whoa, this word has also just taken on a different meaning) a way to WRITE.

Now mind you, I did lock my pen and paper in the locker that was guarded by a door with a code, and I had not seen any pens from the staff lying around anywhere. That would have been too easy... (it would have also probably been considered stealing, but whatever, more on that later).

So what did I do?

Well, I had tweezers and I had things with surfaces that I could carve words into, like a little tin box where I kept soap or a yoga block made of hard foam.

So yes, you may stop smirking now.

That is exactly what I did. I started to carve words and short sentences into anything I could.

Why?

Out of rebellion?Boredom?Because I just didn’t see a version of this where I wasn’t going to somehow write about it?

(Which, if you’re reading this, turns out I was right..)

Because I guess I couldn’t help but grasp for some normalcy? Something that I could still control?

Turns out this experience started to actually really do something to me. It’s hard (and useless) to describe in words what it’s actually like to feel trapped but freer by the day, all in one.

Alright, so now you probably want to know what I carved into my yoga block, huh?

Fine, let me tell you.

Here are the exact words of Days 1 through 3. All written on Day 3 because I only came up with this idea then, but best believe I still remembered what Day 1 and 2 were about:

Day 1: FUCK THIS SHIT VERY MUCH.

Day 2: FUCK THIS SHIT STILL VERY MUCH.

Day 3: HOW CAN I BREAK THE RULES?

…no, it wasn’t that profound, but things got deeper by the day. Like really deep, in ways I had NO IDEA.

I’ll get into it in the next one.

Love, Mel 💌

PS. All my newsletters are written by me, not AI (so please flag the typos). 😉

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