At the age of 26, Paul knew he had to turn the wheel. There was no straight road ahead and what had to change was the beliefs inside his head.
5’8 an average height for a man? Paul doesn’t think so, he feels short and high heels aren’t an option. Being defined by your job, what is that. Paul helps teach, a teacher, but what he wants to do is far beyond the confines of this current job of his. What you want to do, counts for a lot about who you are. Not jealous of those revelling in success but inspired by them, dreams feel achievable but always feel to far away, a feeling hidden, disguised, behind smiles and a false reassurance that he’s doing okay.
Loves a game he seldom played, fear the cause, for respect got in the way, he bit his tongue and pinched his thoughts for the things he never did, never said and just ignored. He blinked and mist his chances, letting others drift on by, in hope that someday his courage would come alive.
But his mind is stronger than his heart. Paul wants to write. Screenplays, Novels, Shorts. A ‘writer’ is a casual word for defining a work of yours, more a storyteller, a speaker of life’s tales and morals, not only with his words in print, but his words spoken out, visualised on screens big and small.
But before these art forms really come to life, Paul wants to search the world, for a story of others and a story of his own. Not one who takes career precedence over the richness of experiencing the good, the bad and the beautiful scenes our world can provide, for these feed his needs, needs which will fuel those ideas that he hopes you’ll eventually see.
So through the ending of those 20’s years, Paul vagabonds his way through foreign lands, chasing ideas, hearts and probably cute street puppy dogs. But his nonchalant excuse for life, is a romantic notion which reality will bite, bite hard back to life. The chase is what it is, of never really getting there, never holding on and this can’t go on.
We need that time to roam, free from strings, a hot air balloon floating with the wind, looking down, around and in the scenes from above. But fuel runs dry and we come back down to life.
And as every story goes the main character grows and grows, and by the definition of once loosing out, he begins to make his existence count. For when he starts to settle down and embraces more with the chances around, he finds himself in higher gears no excuse of his good enough to pause his progress. The years of the 30’s commence and the life once dreamt is one that now begins. ‘Be yourself’ some say, an old adage Paul resists. In a world where competition rules, beauty wins and the people who wait are the ones that lose. Pretending can realign a mind, so Paul begins to impersonate the people he should be, not just in thought but in actuality. A speaker, a word man, a convincing investment man, a mini racer, a travel entrepreneur. A major motion picture mogul, a trusted stranger, a life saver, an intimate practitioner who leaves the ones he meets in a quake of enviable romance, but this is all a plan, he neither wants to burn hearts and lead people along lies, as the veils he throws over his own soul are but a sacrifice for the story he must write.
The good times exceed expectation, the stillness of a vagabond come true. And a true trust between two minds, two hearts unite and drift onwards through the fate they made.
A family is born, the dream continues, unstoppable to die, young versions of himself rise and the free will he educates them with, they still choose a path similar to that he had lived.
But the future is only just a whiskers depth away and Paul awakes one day in the year 2100 to hear only English, Spanish and Mandarin. Everyone has money, computer chips are common. At the age of 114, Paul is still only 40. The body ceases to decay, the computer controlling, ageing is gone and another veil shadows the number that separates us young from old. Regeneration not only exists in the bodies we wrap ourselves in, but in the lifestyle we choose. Virtual Reality is not a game but a way of life, for those stuck in the world that Paul had experience years before. People choose their ideal self, those people not including Paul.
Paul revelled this way in his younger years which put him on the plane to the clouds of bliss, a romance of life like the very movies he wished to create and did. But now these were the years to enjoy his fate. Sharing the present with the young he helped create and a partner who never wouldn’t wish to leave his life, for their love to break would take the end of the world.
But soon a time came, the world was in decay, a world which no longer welcome him. A shame as Paul believed he would reach the year 3000. Where people lived under the water. A thought that a pop band back in those early years stole from him. He dreamed of one day swimming with the creatures that didn’t need to breathe. A feat he had always tried to dream. What if humans didn’t need to breath? An answer his imagination never sought to find.
And before he could entertain the answer in his mind. A trouble brewed. The machines that man fought so hard to build, found the intelligence to rid the life inferior to them, for they slaved for our need and the need was now on them, there hands would take the life that let them live. The robots where always the next step, of the evolution in time. There once was us, but the world was now all them.
And one day in spring, where life begins to grow, Paul drew his last breath caged atleast with the ones he loved. Containers built by machines, threw family by family who sank beneath the sea coming to there eventually deaths.
As there container fell, Paul grabbed a waterproof pen (yes he always had one) and chose his final words to tell. Looking in her eyes, they both smiled, their children holding hands. The last breath exhaled, from each of them, a bubble formed, the oxygen from all five lives fused, a bubble which was their life, a story, The bubble Paul was in.
And written on the wall, the last ink written by a man.
‘Don’t get caught in chasing the eternal spring, but do pause at the moments in between,
And if Paul hadn’t died underneath the sea, he would have died from the sickening feeling of writing a life’s story filled with cheesy clichés.
So go on, pause some moments in life. It might be fun