On measuring life.

Oh how do we measure life?
Is it through the successes we achieve?
…or should it be in the hardships we strive?
torn in between moments of happiness or grief.

I tried measuring my life through numbers:
twenty countries before thirty
three point six eight GPA, offered five highly competitive jobs in upper five digits salary
seven hundred and thirty five instagram followers, one hundred and ten retweets on twitter
four exes: one I regretted, one I admire still, two I don’t even bother
but,
oh will they even matter when we are six feet under?

I tried writing life down in journals:
day 1: woke up at six, went to work at eight, went home at six, slept at twelve
day 2: woke up at five past six, went to work at seven fifty five, went home at six thirty, slept at eleven thirty
day 3: called in sick
day 4: woke up at seven, went to work at eight, went home at eleven (caught up with work), slept at one
…
to be honest with you, I stopped at day 17
life looks bleak with the same daily routine
so, I stopped.

I tried measuring life in kisses:
one from my mum when I was tiny and fragile, the first speck of light I’ve ever seen — pure, prettiest
one from a middle school fling — sloppy, wet, and later on, full of regret
one from a university lover who I thought was the world — the one where we couldn’t hold it in anymore, ended up in always wanting more
one from a friend — a goodbye kiss: if only we had realized sooner that something was amiss, we could’ve sorted it out and not only reminisce in our memories

They swore by measuring life from failures;
anyone figured out how to escape the despair that entails,
do reach out?

Books tell me to measure life from things I am grateful about;
I can write you shelves full of books full of things I am grateful about,
and now what?

So when I asked the open question:
Oh how do we measure life?
A wise man passed by me and answered:
Oh why do you measure life!

Why did I measure life?

Prompt: Life cycle