Every problem is a nail.

"Has it been a year?" she asks me. "It feels as though it was only this spring. Where has the spring gone anyway?"

At the beginning of the summer, you opted to forget everyone. As the fall settles itself, you realize how much has changed yet how much of it feels exactly the same. September is a representation of a new page, one we must accept, whether or not we want to. Students go back to school, summer vacations are over, and the weather begins to cool down, although the latter never got warmer to begin with.

You recall your state of mind in the spring and how desperately you awaited the summer, one that with a blink of an eye, has evaporated. It's as though the summer never came. Instead you were trapped, an Ezra like moment, in an endless season of spring and provided with the ability to dream what could've been summer instead. What could've been trust broken on more than one occasion, what could've been of the relationships that we feel are everlasting that are instead, shattered in an instant, what could've been the feelings that are forgotten or, like dreams, those we put away to make ourselves feel better as much as it hurts, what could've been of the dreams that are shared, of the experiences that are made, of the tears that are shed, of the lands that are discovered where new memories are built, and of the others that are rediscovered alongside its reignited memories and what could've been of the transformed lives and the people in need of saving.

And like you needed a vacation back in May, you were provided with the opportunity to take one. So you set off on a plane and crossed the Atlantic, something you had not done in seven years, and began your voyage. It was short, ever changing and temporary, like everything in your life it seems. Maybe that's why they call them vacations. The news, now more than ever before, depresses you terribly. Your ability to concentrate, to write like you want, is removed, unable to figure out how, just weeks prior, you were able to do it.

For a brief moment, you felt genuine happiness. There were dates to look forward to, but those are all but gone as you slowly woke up from a four month sleep. Wait, next month will mark a year since you've moved. Congratulations, you're thinner than ever and realize there's actually nothing to celebrate, or no one worthy of celebrating it with, it's just life, although if you told your roommate she's more likely to be happy for you than the previous one. Wait, but you received two pieces of good news the other day, but you don't bother looking for contacts to tell, you keep this news to yourself. Your inbox has text messages in it, some old, some new. Most of them seem to be copies of previous ones, canceled plans, back and forth running after others, not worth the time, mainly because, you made those plans to pass the time, they weren't the messages you were looking for anyway. The phone calls you missed are insignificant, just like the names and subjects of the emails that flood your inbox. You grow tired of the canceled plans, running after people who, in the end, probably wouldn't run after you. Favours. It feels like favours, doesn't it? Fini!

Oh how you feel like a brat, someone who appreciates nothing, but you know that you only need direction, a direction that has never been provided to you but one you needed to consistently rely on yourself to find. You continue to doubt your abilities and wonder if hard working people get anywhere in life.
"Why don't you just forget this idea and focus on what you have right now? Do you really want to leave all of this? You're looking into something completely unknown and dangerous, do you really want to do that?"

And as your father he tells you this because he knows it's safer, but he doesn't mean it, you sense it. He's afraid, but he's done it, he wants you to do it, but he's afraid, and so are you, although you tell yourself it's not because it's all material, everything you're leaving. And that's what you learned in this dream of a summer - you are able to let go of anything that has a material worth attached to it, but people...people can't be dropped. You care too much and maybe it's because you have a heart, but you realize that not everyone does, but it doesn't mean you stop caring, mainly because you can't stop. And you don't know what you can save them from, but maybe you need to accept the fact that you're in need of saving but no one will save you.

And there you are, with a ticket in your hand, figuring out the misery that is your personal life plan. And four months ago this is where you wanted to be, and where you are is fine, but you think back to the dream of the summer and realize that you can drop it all, anything material. Right now you're safe, and how's life an adventure if there's a safety net behind you? All you want is to run barefoot on the cobblestones in the streets of the old city, to observe the beautiful people passing Rivoli, and taste the salty water of the sea. And all you want is to save them but you don't know what you can save them from.

*the title of this post is inspired from an Abraham Maslow quote