the writing blog

You are in a crowded city park on a sunny afternoon. Families are picnicking, musicians are playing, people are reading or chatting. You’re sitting on a bench, watching it all — until someone sits beside you and asks: “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”

I furrow my eyebrows, caught off guard by the question. His question lingers in my mind as I ponder it. “I think so, doesn’t everyone?” I wait for an answer, but he’s facing the other way, so I explain myself: “I mean, I guess I’m not unhappy with my life,” I say, looking down at my feet swinging over the leftover grass, “but yes, sometimes I wish I were someone else, with a different path, living a different life.” I hear his breath, but it’s the only mark of his presence. “So what would you do differently if you were to live someone else’s life?” he adds, sincerely interested in my answer. I laugh anxiously; the conversation is taking another turn. I start rubbing my left palm with my right hand, using my thumb. “Seize opportunities… The ones I hesitated on, the ones I didn’t believe in myself enough to go for.” The wind brushes my face, carrying the screams of children on the slide. I never really thought about it until now; it’s as if my brain knows for me. Flashes of previous decisions I made pass before my eyes. I smile. “Maybe it’s foolish, but I think I’ve always waited something exciting to happen to me.” I lift my face to grasp his reaction. “There’s always time,” he says, staring right into my eyes.

unfinished