In this personal piece of storytelling, a little ant becomes a mirror for every soul trying to survive, rest, and remember who they are.
In that tiny, rebellious mind, an idea was born:
Start a new life.
Somewhere else. Under a different sky, with new people, new air.
So what if he didn’t speak the language? He’d learn.
So what if he didn’t know the customs? He’d figure it out.
So what if he was tired?
The most beautiful stories begin when we leave the old pages behind. And it really was exciting!
He soaked in new streets, new scents, meadows, faces, and ideas.
But it was terrifying too.
He had never been more alone.
In a world where nobody knew him, he realized: he had only himself.
Could he do this?
Thousands of questions echoed in his mind.
No answers.
Just stubbornness. Just the promise:
“I’ll give it everything I’ve got. The rest will somehow fall into place.”
He knew he had to start from the bottom.
He picked up a cloth and cleaned the mess left by others,
ignoring everything that had built up inside him.
He travelled dozens of kilometers a day,
telling himself that making others happy couldn’t be such a bad job.
Even though it wasn’t what he truly wanted.
He was used to ignoring his own needs.
Used to believing his desires didn’t matter.
So he walked through life carrying quiet dissatisfaction,
comforting himself with the thought: at least I’m useful.
But life had other plans.
One day, caught in a storm on his way home,
he found himself lying on the road –
just inches from the wheels of a massive truck.
In that moment, he realized:
his path had to change.
More terrified by the realization than the accident itself,
he faced another shift.
He felt smaller, more powerless than ever.
He tried to connect with others.
Tried to speak their language.
But still felt isolated.
What he didn’t realize was that he was disconnected from himself.
Ignoring everything he felt.
Everything he wanted.
He found another job.
Safe. Indoors. Useful.
No trucks.
He began to feel accepted.
Even happy.
But then his body started sending signals.
While cooking the tastiest meals for others,
his legs grew heavy.
His hands – covered in scars and burns.
Still, he ignored the signs.
Telling himself:
“You have to work. You have to survive. Just a little longer.”
Eventually, he couldn’t take a single step without pain.
He started drinking herbal teas for the pain.
Once a day. Then constantly.
He asked for help. Did tests.
But no one took him seriously.
“Nothing is visible,” they said.
But the battle inside him was real.
Loud. Exhausting.
So he made a decision:
Stop.
Take a break.
Try to reclaim a piece of the one he used to be.
That choice was met with judgment.
Those who once accepted him began to attack.
He was too weak to defend himself.
Too tired.
So he went back.
To the beginning.
Because sometimes, the beginning is the only place left to start again.
The old anthill he once ran from –
now smelled like home.
Flowers. Earth after rain.
Everything smelled like him.
He cried.
He realized he might never be the same again.
Might never be “healthy” again.
But this time, he would live in alignment with himself.
He would listen to himself.
He would trust himself.
And he would live on his own terms.
Because no one else gets to choose for him anymore.
Why did I write this?
Because writing isn’t just about selling.
It’s about feeling.
And before I could help anyone else tell their story…
I had to find mine.