la foi

belief, is the word that's written over and over again on the orange tape that marks random places in my room.
It's on my mirror, on my door, above the entrance of my room, on the wall above my bed.

Belief, not believe.
Not the verb, but the noun.
Like faith.

Belief that we'd be able to settle down, for just that little while.
That after a year, it'd be good enough to start unpacking and to call this place home.

I reached up to the mirror, and peeled of a corner of that orange tape.
But the corner came out between my fingers.
Belief is sticky, I thought, and I didn't just mean the tape.
I finally managed to rip the damn thing off, but it still left a sticky outline on my mirror.

I took down the one outside my door and the one on my door.
And I'm looking up at my wall and figuring, that's gonna be coming down soon too.

So,
we pack our lives into the same cardboard boxes and believe,
that we get to start all over again.


"What does she want?"
"To be happy."
"That's not too hard, is it?"
--Chris Lee, Happy