Waking up in London

Tower Bridge seen from London Bridge.

Today, I woke up in London, just like approximately the past thousand days of my life. It was a sunny day but it felt like one of these cloudy days. I was drawn in my own thoughts, dark thoughts, hopeful thoughts, all kind of thoughts.

Questions hammering my heart and soul resulting in me crying before I had even come out of bed.

Yesterday, I had no plans to go out so I had just met friends at our local pub before heading home at about 11pm. In the meantime, London and its Londoners were hit by another wave of undeserved hate on innocent people. Last night, as I fell asleep for a couple of hours, a part of London fell asleep forever.

The first question I’ve asked myself was “Why?”.

There is no reason to behave so cowardly and hurt all of the innocents on the scene and all of the Londoners in their homes. Yes, Londoners in their homes got hurt too. Some might think: “oh but at least they were safe”. I agree, they haven’t been hurt physically but surely the impact of such events goes further than the actual scene. You get that feeling that you are not safe anymore and, although you were lucky enough to have decided to have a night in because you were lazy or you were probably a couple of blocks away, it might happen again and maybe, this time, you will be there. Really, it is a question of timing.

If you welcome these thoughts in your mind, you might even end up paranoid. I have already caught myself thinking “why is this bag here” when the owner was actually just steps away  looking at the tube map on the underground. I have caught myself contemplating on when it would happen to me, how my family would be informed and other stressful scenarios.

So, I try to stay safe.

But what does staying safe mean? The victims of yesterday’s attack did not have an unsafe behaviour, did they? I mean, going out to enjoy a meal at the Borough Market with your friends before heading to London Bridge station to catch your 23:39 train because you are being sensible isn’t unsafe, is it? The teenagers who bought their tickets to go and see Ariana Grande were not being unsafe either. The innocent people being bombed in the Middle East countries were in the safest place possible: their home.

And that brings me to this frightening question: Are we even safe anywhere?

I don’t think anywhere is safe at the moment, at least when you live in a city. I can barely even imagine how it feels to live in a country where absolutely nowhere is safe, where even a ten-thousand-inhabitant-village can be a target.

I have always tried to focus on the positive side of everything. It’s harder today.

I have realised that if I have so many thoughts to give away to this endless torture that is the question “Why”, I might as well save them and send them to all of the people affected by this escalating hate in the world.

Today, I woke up in London, just like approximately the past thousand days of my life. It was a sunny day and I have decided to let it be.

All my love, light and hope.