About the girl who stood in the road

What was it like? Just step outside on a hot summer day to see what it was like. The sun was immersed in the depths of blue, untouched by a blanket of clouds, its rays heating everything almost to redness. It was impossible to spot people on the roads, as everyone preferred to stay in the cool interiors of their houses, or perhaps sunbathe behind them, rather than wander the desert that was the area that sweltering day...

I was driving down Lwowska Street into Powiśle, a street bordered on one side by single-family homes and on the other by a rather high and terribly leaky embankment – ​​year after year, when the floods came, we prayed that the filth wouldn't let go! The officials preferred to pocket the money rather than reinforce the stupid embankment protecting the villagers from the destructive force of the water.

I was returning from work, it was around 3 p.m.... The puffiness under my eyes, caused by lack of sleep, looked like genuine bruises from a freshly finished fight. I understand that some people dream of my job, but it has become a prison for me. Every day I wake up early, eat breakfast, and head to work, where I spend several hours in front of the computer, punching in a series of unrelated numbers into spreadsheets... I sit, staring at the monitor, wondering where my freedom has gone. You understand what I'm talking about, right?

When I was young, everything seemed so simple, even though there was school. Then came work and the transition to adulthood, and then slavery began. Rebellion was lost somewhere in the depths of my brain, like the meaning of the word freedom for an old slave. I submitted to people who were wasting my life in constant, pointless work. They created us, do you understand? They shaped our characters, turning us into people deprived of meaning... From little children living in dreams, they created robots.

But don't think it was just about work... Oh no! There were many more reasons.

As I said, I turned off Lwowska Street onto Powiśle Street – they meet right by the bridge, and there's a shop in front of which drunks are always sitting, guzzling cheap wine, trying to forget about what's going on around them. Those damn drunks are right, they're absolutely right!

When I was young, my mother and father would punch each other in the face every day, both so drunk they had no idea where they were. They would just punch each other in the face as if the meaning of their existence depended on it. My mother would get hit harder, but she could also deliver, it all depended on the day...

I, on the other hand, was studying... When I was young, they said you have to study because studying will lead to a job and money. Yes, I did get a job and money, but somewhere in all of that, I lost the joy of everyday life... How can you be happy when every day looks like the one before? So, I studied and joined the 'rat race' to get a job and money, because that's what really matters once you become an adult...

I had a few friends at school... Robert even recently jumped off the building of some foreign telecommunications company where he worked. A few weeks earlier, he'd called me and said, "Life, this isn't life anymore..." Everyone liked this man, a living volcano full of energy, so no one knew why Robert jumped, and they probably never will. For people like Robert—joyful, eternal optimists, people full of imagination yet sensitive to the beauty of the world and words—freedom was everything, the freedom to make choices... Jumping off the company building was his last choice. You know what Robert meant by that, right? I think I do...

So I drove off Lwowska Street into Powiśle—there's a beautiful, old weeping willow tree by the shop, under which local individualists sip cheap wine. I remember that willow very well, because it stood there even when I was young. I walked this route to school every day, sometimes waiting for a friend—no, not Robert!—under that willow tree. How many years has it been? Twenty? Some things from my youth have survived to this day, one of them being a weeping willow tree at the bridge where Lwowska Street meets Powiśle...

School. A series of torments, a lost youth... Instead of looking at our knowledge, teachers constantly glanced at our names to remember which parent had contributed more money to their son's education... Like in 'Forrest Gump,' only this time it was about real, hard cash. My family never had a ton of money, so I had to work like a horse to achieve anything educationally... Luckily, those "connections" faded away in high school; it was only then that it became clear who in this whole bunch was the idiot and who the smart one.

I hated studying, but I was taught that only through studying would I achieve anything. Now I feel I lost my childhood and gained a world without dreams. They taught us everything, except how to live, to feel life... It's just like that Turbo song, whatever it was... 'Adult Children,' yes, that's exactly what I mean.

I studied because I wanted to be somebody, and I became a person who sits in front of a computer all day, punching numbers into spreadsheets. What a damn dream come true, huh? Another anonymous guy with no convictions, dreams, or imagination of his own. Because, you know, when I was in school, I was told that any opposition I had to stereotypes was a youthful rebellion that would pass. I was also taught to obey rules and not express my opinions publicly, and to view misfits as a necessary evil... What did they do to us? People, you understand what I'm trying to say, right? What did they do to us?

Then there was hypocrisy, lies, a world without values... That's how it is today. Childhood was the only 'colorful' period in my life, and then there were my first days at work. The four of us were accepted then, we thought that someone had sent us a great gift, but we were wrong!

But then I turned off Lwowska Street onto Powiśle – they connect at the bridge, and there's also a shop there. I drove past a weeping willow without even glancing at it. It was hot. The blue shirt I was wearing at the time was sticky with sweat, and salty water trickled down from under my rolled-up sleeves. The swelling around my eyes looked like bruises, and the sagging skin on my face made it clear I was tired.

Tired? I was sluggish. A kind of depression that lasted for weeks. I couldn't talk to people, and I didn't even want to; I was afraid of it. I couldn't sleep at night because every position I found myself in seemed so damned uncomfortable! Just look into my eyes... Without that youthful glow, sad blue eyes with no will to live...

I was already in Powiśle when I saw a girl standing in the road. She was about a hundred meters ahead of me. A tiny creature playing hopscotch with herself. She had long, auburn hair, slightly ruffled by the hot breeze, and a flowing dress with colorful flowers. She bounced along the road, strangely happy... I thought she knew nothing about life, that she was just jumping around in the street, but in a few years she'd go to school, where she'd meet teachers, then find a job, and then a husband who would start drinking and punch her in the pretty face every evening after work. I understand that not everyone is like that, as I certainly do, but I know she'll find one because she's innocent... Her innocence will be her undoing. In today's world, honorable people, truly sensitive people, can't cope with life—I've already told you about Robert, right? In today's world, you have to be a real bastard to cope, you have to be a person without scruples, without morals, dreams, compassion...

Dreams... I used to have dreams, but now only illusions remain. The world was beautiful when I was young. Life was beautiful before I grew up. As a little boy, I thought I was creating something, that I was important, and today... Today I sit in front of a computer all day, punching numbers into spreadsheets, and no one says it's important, because it's not!

And her? That little girl who stood in the way, what about her? She's playing hopscotch... For now, she's playing hopscotch; only later will she start playing the game of life... Then I thought that in some strange way I was responsible for her, that I felt sorry for her... I thought that if I were her father, I would do everything to prevent her from reaching adulthood.

I knew what awaited her! Do you understand? If she grew up, they would spoil her! They would turn her into a robot, a person without dreams, a person who doesn't believe she can achieve anything. It's better to hope you can achieve something than to know you can't! That little girl who stood in the way that day would become another impersonal monument to the 'system's' success.

But when I was about a hundred meters ahead of her, I felt a strange urge... Everything, my entire past flashed before my eyes, and I felt... I felt... I felt like I wanted to run her over... But not for the pleasure of it, no, I wasn't crazy. I wanted to kill her to protect her mind, full of dreams, from the corruption of today's world. I wanted to smash her on the road, to end her life in a place where existence could still be called life. Why tell her that dreams don't come true, why talk about losing sincerity and losing honor?

The hood of the car reflected the sun and gleamed in its rays. The girl was getting closer to the bumper, and I knew I wanted to do it. To smash her pretty face on the hot asphalt right next to the hopscotch field painted on the road.

Dreams, the desire to change the world, rebellion... they took it away from us... All that was left was dirt, depression, sleeping pills, sitting at work in front of a computer, a life devoid of value, a life without purpose, a life until death... What had they made of us? Robert, you saw it. Little girl, you were about to find out.

A white room without doorknobs is the same as our adult minds in freedom. Either way, we are prisoners... Remember, I volunteered; otherwise, you would never have found me. You appreciate that, right?

You understand me? You understand my story? Robert would understand... A life without meaning, a world without values...

What the hell have they done to us?

God!

What have we allowed ourselves to become?!