I normally get annoyed by people who live slowly. I mean, is it so hard to at least move out of the way when you're taking your ridiculously slow walk? Or make the most obvious and only possible move in a game of chess? The clock is ticking! What do you mean by "not having enough time" to read the article in class? Did you check the biography of each author of each scientific source on Wikipedia? Yes, dear. It's a group project. It'd be nice if, for a change, you did your work now and handed it in as soon as possible. You're not going to come up with a million-dollar idea overnight. For whatever's sake, there are two doors at the bus, use the other one, you can see there is a queue building at the first ones.
"Stop and smell the roses," they say. Well, what if I don't care about half-dead red flowers? What if I want to rush home and blog about my depressing day? What if I want to get to the faculty thirty minutes before my class to mindlessly scroll through my phone? "Live in the moment" is another thing "they" (who are they anyway, self-proclaimed inspirational influencers?) tell us (mere mortals) to do. But this puts even more pressure on me. Now I have to enjoy the bloody moment. But what if I don't enjoy it enough? Then I have to rush it so that I get to the better moment soon. So, excuse me, lady, if your dog is in my way, I may smile politely and say "no rush", but in my mind my day will be even more ruined. And no matter how many times my intellectual friends explain cognitive psychology and its methods that should help me with controlling my emotions, I'll enjoy being petty and blaming my shitty day on you and your little unleashed beast.
But yesterday, while doing what I like to describe on my dating app profile as 'my personal hell': washing lettuce, radicchio to be precise, I saw its beautiful colours shimmering in the water. I didn't smell the roses, but I watched the radicchio float aimlessly, stopped and took a deep breath for the first time in a few weeks. The thoughts of exams and meetings and social media and not being good enough and food and being single and driving licences and health and arguments curled up into a big ball of light and poured into the sink, making the radicchio look a bit blurry. I don't know how long I stood there leaning on the counter and staring at the purples and greens and silvers, but it seemed like an eternity. I hate to admit it, but it was cathartically beautiful.
(I was still thinking about giving a guy I really didn't like another chance just because he was a fast walker).
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