You’re on Your Own, Kid
Nov. 2022
All this time, I’ve always handed out the steering wheel and obliviously, lazily lied in the shotgun. Yes, I enjoyed the view along the way when the ride is smooth. Yes, it feels good to not take responsibilities for your own happiness. But no, that is not how real life works. Sooner or later you’ll realize you’re just a tag-along.
When I was 16, like any other teenagers, my values and perspectives are in their most malleable years. I came by a random sentence in a book and immediately fell in love with its ideas. “I wanted to go to a place where the moment I land I know I belong.” Thanks (or not) to this random quote, I have been on a search for the past 10 years. I read the Catcher in the Rye for three times, I ordered a cheap frame of canvas art of the Brooklyn bridge and hanged it in my room right on top where I sleep. I dreamed of going abroad to have the so-called epiphany to finally dawn on me.
And at some moments, they did. I was privileged enough to spend time in many places during my early twenties. However, as my experience grew I also came to understand that inspiration is not the same as the sense of belonging — — Almost, they could be the very opposite. For inspiration, you have to be constantly wondered by unbounded, exotic perspectives, and for belonging it requires a sense of familiarity. So basically, my longings for these years has been a contradiction. That explains a lot of my sense of lost when I feel the void in all these magnificent places. As time past, everything became more predictable. The passion of exploring new places faded into mundane administration of booking hostels and long plane flights, and although those places are still beautiful and inspiring, I started to wonder whether there’s a more profound meaning behind these actions of mine. Now that I look back, I probably was looking for a liberation that does not bring loneliness, which is a challenging seek.
In the age of 22, I thought I had the answer. I met a guy in Gold Coast Australia, and we had the deepest and most brilliant conversation the first night we met. The books, the songs, the philosophy, the idealisms I am into all aligned with his. We talked through the night about capitalism, existentialism, freedom, meaning of the universe… Heck, we even share the same birthday! I realized that all I wanted was nothing but a home with him, and my life and years of search was suddenly anchored. I decided to go to uni in Australia to have a life with him. I was so sure that we’re gonna work out – – until we didn’t. There I was, lost again, trying to reach for what it truly means to feel belonged.
Well, on the bright side, at least I understood myself better. Turns out I am the kind of person that would make life-critical decisions based on their partner, the kind I never saw myself would fall into. Now from a hindsight view, this was a reforming experience. Ever since then the target of my seek in the sense of belonging become a person, not a place. I wanted to have someone that can build a home together, regardless the place we are in.
Two more years passed, and I met another boy. The relationship of ours was somehow doomed in the beginning, as he plans to study in the US while I am still in Australia. We decided to give it a go anyways. We made a deliberate plan for how I would go to the US and we can have a life together there. Brisbane, where I previously deemed as my future home, suddenly became a strange place to me. I certainly put out my whole effort to make this plan work, but something always felt off. Very recently, we decided to split apart. My plans for the upcoming years was shook from its very base. And again, I am forced to gaze into the abyss of life.
What am I doing wrong here? I swear these days I asked this question more than a thousand times. Late at night, with my routine and schedule all screwed-up, and my heart slowly being shattered in a calm but concrete pace. Of course it is painful, but I also somehow see it coming. Why is that? It is until now, in a flight to America originally meant to be visiting my recently enthroned ex-boyfriend, that I am able to get my shit together and retrospect on all these previous years.
Please forgive me here, it must be very obvious from an outsider’s view, but you must understand I was all swirled up adjusting the fragile details so that I was blinded to see the big picture. Which is, in all these years, I have not taken any initiative for my life. I have always been giving others the authority to pivot my life 180. I’ve always handed out the steering wheel and obliviously, lazily lied in the shotgun. Yes, I enjoyed the view along the way when the ride is smooth. Yes, it feels good to not take responsibilities for your own happiness. But no, that is not how real life works. Eventually, at some point, you’ll reach where your destinations diverged, and you gotta get out of the car, kiss goodbye, and live on with your own life. Cause all this time, you’re on someone else’s car, and you’re just a tag-along. I am behaving like this because it’s daunting to actually make plans for yourself and start taking responsibilities for your choices. To figure out what I truly love, and to accept the drawbacks of the inevitable trial and errors along the way. I lack the patience and audacity to go through the whole process but still longing to jump to an end, and somehow I even dared hoping it’s a good one.
Turns out epiphany happens more likely from heartbreaks than traveling abroad — — You’ve always been on your own. You gotta drive your own car, and you gotta drive it slowly but patiently, make your own decisions bravely but not stubbornly. It is until then you’ll find all these years of searching becomes a false premise. It’s never a seek, no, it’s always you on you’re path. On this path, you will finally have the ability to truly connect with others, appreciate how bizarre and unique this life of yours is, and importance and freedom will eventually stand by time’s side.
