Age of Debriefing
Yes, I’ve turned twenty-one. Normally, I’d feel the extreme abhorrence of slowly — but successfully, nonetheless — turning into a crummy, unstable adult. The amount of responsibility niggling at the back of my mind would always impatiently take its throne, and would funnily enough, decide to ruin the rest of my year (because why not, right?). This time, though, it was different. It’s almost as if I’m at the age of debriefing. All that I have known, all that I have experienced, all that I have dreamt of, now seem to have lost their significance. Everything that once made sense, now didn’t — not even in the vaguest semblance.
When I was younger, I’ve always pictured myself as someone who would one day astonish the world with whatever it is that I have to offer. Whenever I think of how blithe and definite I was back then, remorse starts to fill my gut. I should’ve been more cynical. I should’ve seen the world as it really is, and how it could haul something within you that you never even knew existed; waiting to be set loose.
Have you ever, at least once in your life, asked yourself if anything around you really matters? Does the vastness of the universe bother you at all? Does the stinging realization of mortality ever frighten you? Because it eats me up whole every night. I’ve been in a quite lonesome state, wondering if anything would ever make sense; committing self-inflicted ruins, but at the same time, intently searching for salvation. It just saddens me to see how people are too preoccupied trying to forge a life when all they really do is evade it, you know? That’s one of the many reasons why I find it so hard to conform. To become, if not greater, just like them. Chance on a well-paying job and a nice place, marry a chivalrous man who thinks you’re beautiful and stay married for as long as you possibly can — you’d then see how people would admire you for being so well-put. It is the society’s notion of a perfect life. I’ve once been fooled by people who look like they have it all together. People who seem so confident and happy and involved. People who make you feel like you’ve been living in a monotonous rhythm. I must admit, they all look great from afar. But once you get the chance to see them face-to-face, straight in the eyes, you’d realize how they’ve all just been experts on putting on a mask that only a few, really observant people, could actually tell that it’s there. We’re all just the same pathetic little beings despite our prevailing circumstances.
It’s a gruesome cycle that we’ve generally believed to be unexceptional. We could never alter the fact that we are perpetually clueless about why we were put here, but we could, at least, stop the irrational thirst for things that are nothing else but futile. There’s a lot going on that’s desperately seeking our attention, if we could only give the world a glimpse.