There are now 37 days (I started writing this a few days ago) left for this eventful year to end, and although I realise that a lot can happen in 888 hours, I can still safely look back and say ‘what the fuck?’ As with most things, what happened is not as important as what it taught me and what it cost.
At the risk of showering you with cliches dipped in rich and creamy banality, I will kickstart my annual report by saying that life can surprise you, almost as much as you can surprise yourself. We’ve all seen these motivational posters urging us to do shit, step outside our comfort zones, chase down our dreams with a chainsaw and show ’em who’s boss. And every time we do, we die a little inside, knowing we’re doing none of that; knowing we’re living day in and day out. Wasting our life away, all in the name of our generation’s most successful serial killer: routine.
Kudos on surrendering yet another 24 hours of your very finite and unique life to a warped ideal of being.
You’re tired, bored, fed up, disappointed, miserable. Join.the fucking.club. In case you haven’t noticed, most of us are in the same damn boat with you, hungry, exhausted and just a little seasick. Sitting around, looking at each other, one hand pointing fingers and the other secretly drawing circles in the water we would all like to be swimming in.
You wish there were more hours in the day, more days in the weekend, more essence in your trivial existence. All you need to remember is that as you wish, seconds are slipping away, never to return. Never to be lived. Only having been wished upon.
What a waste.
I read the following ‘anti-motivational’ poster online recently which made me smile and nod: According to astronomy, when you wish upon a star you’re actually a few million years too late. The star is dead, just like your dreams. How very true, in so many ways. And yet it seems that it’s not so much our dreams that are dead, but us, and with a dry and sunless wasteland for that place where we keep hope a prisoner just in case we need her, how are we to dream?
I believe the problem lies in the fact that we’ve misplaced our strength and effort. Instead of striving to identify, chase and ultimately acquire what we want, we consume ourselves and exhaust our psychological resources on getting through a day we’ve let others create for us. This is how I’ve felt for a long time. Every single day of my un-carpe(d) life for the past couple years. I realize that every day may sound like a stretch, but even on those days when I was successful enough to kick the habit and accomplish something extra-ordinary I praised myself a little and then went back to wondering why I wasn’t trying this hard more often.
The best way to define 2013, for me personally, is to say that it was a year of firsts, their quality ranging from remarkable to pathetic, and their impact going from 0 to 100 in 1.51 seconds. Memorable moments have etched their way inside my temporal lobe, projecting themselves unperturbed whenever they see fit. ‘Off with their heads’ I exclaim one moment, ‘bring it on’ I cry the next. To compare it with an emotional roller coaster ride would mean to tremendously undermine and underestimate it.
A few sentences came to me today, which I had to write down immediately for fear of losing them. You can only go through life composedly if you teach your angel and your demons to get along; to share their favorite toy, you. That’s what she always told herself. The problem was she had been fighting her demons all her life, and her angel was a no show. This year, it seems, I’ve battled every single demon my soul has ever encountered. I have to admit, however, that the only reason I’m still here is because my angel never left my side. He might have looked away in horror at times, or thrown his hands up in despair, but his wings were forever hovering a breath away from my own shoulders; just in case.