inspired by madagascar

When you see what you have, when you have had it for a perceived eternity, when you have tasted every bit of what you have, or so you imagine, you get bored. Life goes in to an exciting monotony, a suffocating monotony that you need to get out of. This monotony spurs you to run, to keep on running and flying and jumping and leaping, past every obstacle, every pool of mud and dirt, every rock, every tree, every fence. You cut yourself but you brace the bleeding wound and bruises all in the hope of getting to the other side. You crash the walls of your life, the perceived walls that cramps your style, you tear down the fabrics of your life, they need a change, you say. Truth is, the sun is not shinier in Madagascar. Truth is, pastures are always green, but you saw them in different shades and you liked the brighter one that you think you saw. Truth is, soon, you will get bored of Madagascar, you will find you don’t belong; you will miss the walls you knocked down, the perceived confinement that now you know gave you the comfort you enjoyed. Truth is, in Madagascar, the past haunts you, still. History repeats itself in a distinctly similar manner. Truth is, you were wrong about the walls, about the monotony, about what you had, and about you already savouring every bit of it. Truth is, the problem is you because you could not see. You could not appreciate New York and you idealised the picture of Madagascar. Even though you will make it through in the end, you will learn and you will grow, it does not harm to try learning the truth now—to love New York if you’re there, to love Madagascar if that’s your place. well at least for me, the problem is me.