The thin line

Rafael picked himself up again. He was bruised, battered, clobbered, yet resilient enough to pick himself
up. He had no choice. None but to push his way back. This time it was a dark, cold and foggy night. The
place was a highway so narrow that two cars can hardly pass by side by side with only inches between
them. There were no lampposts, no street lights, no shops/buildings whatsoever beside that narrow
highway. It was complete and utter darkness, only source of light were the blinding headlights of
vehicles rushing by in a frenzy manner every now and then. Only that Rafael was on a bicycle. Every time
a big truck or a bus driven by mad drivers was passing by trying to overtake each other in a crazy
nonsense race paying no heed to safety measures or basic driving rules, Rafael had to get off the street
and slide into the adjacent trench, often covered with thorny bushes and unseen ditches in the dark.
Rafael lost balance and fell off almost every time, and got himself hurt on the process. He was still 90Km
away from home.

In that cold, dark and crazy night, memories of the past was flashing before Rafael. His whole life, the
story of it. All he ever wanted was just not to get disturbed, was it too much to ask for? Never did he
receive any appreciation or encouragement from his closest ones. It was OK that he was denied. He was
hurt, but he could live away with that just fine. He could still manage inspiration and motivation by
himself, collecting it from elements of life. The only thing he cherished was not to get disturbed, the only
thing he could not bear was the demotivation and scolding that in his eyes was totally unfair. He was
young and tender, and soft as a cloud. Arrogance was not his way and he just couldn’t fight back and yell
and be harsh at anybody. Then he got hurt in the process and kept bleeding inside, but Rafael kept it all
within himself, as he was unable to share. Fear got into his psyche, established itself and was killing him
softly with slow poisoning. He got captivated by negativity, unable to stand for himself.

But Rafael did not get killed! And what did not kill him only made him stronger. Slowly but surely he
came into realization that he must take care and fight back. He must begin somewhere in order to get
out of this claustrophobic shell. Raise his self-worth, push the boundaries, redeem himself, get back on
track. He must make it, no matter what. Rafael got onto his bicycle again and started paddling. Blood
was dripping from the cut on his calf. His ankle was twisted. His forearm was heavily bruised. But Rafael
kept on paddling. Because he was seeing it, seeing the beginning. The beginning of the very end of the
fear inside him.