Growing up, we all had this dream that we would live this exciting journey, where we slowly but surely tick off milestones after milestones like we do a grocery list. Gradually. Flawlessly. We had this in mind that every milestone would feel fulfilling and empowering, and they bring us closer to the pinnacle of life.
Or at least, I did.
For the longest time, I always had this vision in life that one day, I will be where I want to be. I didn’t always have the exact picture of where it is, what I’m doing, or who’s there. Most of the time, they’re all just blurry paintings with bright colors, smiles, joy, and a whole lot of pride. Too much pride.
What’s worst though, I saw it as a given. There’s no way in any world would I fail. Why would I? I am capable, I know myself, my wit would bring me far. If I do just enough, I will make it. The universe is infinite, and there has to be a place for me somewhere.
Until there wasn’t. Or at least, it felt like there wasn’t.
I did a lot of things.
I moved out and attended college (I hate it here, there’s not much things I can do. I want to do great things, I wish I was somewhere else).
I worked my first job (I hate it here, I can’t mingle with anyone, no one cared about what I did, I want my next job to be great).
I worked another job (I hate it here, it’s draining and I just want to stop. One day I will stop and I’ll be happy).
Imagine wanting a perfect life and having no idea of what that even look like.
Imagine gaslighting yourself into thinking you’re one decision away from happiness and that decision was not you choosing to be content.
Imagine working on a house of the future so much you keep striking every brick you have piled up you end up having not even a wall in the end, just because it wasn’t perfect.
Now there’s nowhere to hang those blurry paintings after all.
Now it feels right to stop running away from the life I have. Stop sacrificing the good life I have surrounded by those I hold dear, to the lonely pathways I had myself succumbed into. Celebrating nice meals, a good day with my friends, blowing my birthday cake with my family, stupid jokes I share with my colleagues, and learning new things, do sound like a better choice.
I will make mistakes again, I will hate myself again for something I do, I will feel like my life would crumble again. But I can’t as well have parts of my conscience scattered all around the past and the future. To be able to bear them, I have to be whole.
