The last day of the two and a half years of my life

(the same two and a half years that may still cost me months of therapy)

(the two and a half years when I met my best friends)

(the two and half years when I became a better person, sometimes because, sometimes despite of all that happened)

wasn’t at all eventful

except this one moment, when, as I was walking through the storm

I realized that the clock in my head stopped ticking.

Earlier, I didn’t even realize the clock was there

I didn’t hear it

or maybe I thought it was a sound of my own heartbeat.

That clock that for two and a half years kept telling me

do more, work harder, meet your deadlines,

never be late, never be sick, never be weak,

make sure you are better than everyone else,

because nobody would want an average person with your accent.

Well, guess what? On the last day of the two and a half years of my life

the people who used to praise me for working hard, meeting my deadlines,

being better than everyone else, weren’t even there to say good-bye.

But the ones who were

who were there for me all the time, didn’t say

thank you for being such an asset to our capitalist system

instead, they said

you have no idea how much we love you.