Loose Ends
Music in the air. People were dancing. The center of the room, sits a boy, enthusiastically learning the ropes of being a radio DJ.
He loved it. He loved the joy of people dancing around him, the heavy beats of the music. He thought that was the purpose he was going to pursue.
So he worked really hard to be where he needed to be, but when the time came, he realised that the pressure was too great, he couldn't do what he had to.
Till today, he knows not why he failed. He attributed it to his fear. A fear of failure. He blamed it on competition, the likes of which he never faced before. He never learnt why, but he always harboured a hope for the future, maybe that was not the path meant for him. So he waited
And when the time came again, he sat again, and he realised, he couldn't do it. All that "strength" he had in the past had vanished, evaporated into thin air. He knew not where it went, but all he knew was that, when the time was right, he simply couldn't.
He failed.
He just kept blaming himself. Why this, why that. But he didn't have any answers. Everytime he looks back, it still stings so much that he never could be where he wanted to be. He did everything right, yet it was just out of reach.
How different would his life be then?
He saw the same booth again. He had a second chance. His lecturers told him to go for it, but when he walked towards that familiar spot and saw the face of people optimistically signing up, he realised that it's right.
He'll never make it.
So he channeled this anger, this frustration that it was too close yet too far. He worked harder than ever and wowed himself. He never knew it was in him.
It seemed that he had found himself a new pastime, but he never put the demons to rest.
So when he sees that utopia, old wounds start to ache.
But by now, the pain has been numbed. People would throw questions at him. What do you want to do in the future? And he knew the answer, but he knew that it was not the answer. It was a question a realistic question. So he would craft another answer, because he knew it was not what he could achieve, and what is just a dream will never be an answer others want to hear.
When he looks at his dream, and hardly recalls how it feels, all he can do is think of how it felt, being there for that one moment.
So where does he go now?
--
Some kinds of pain just don't heal. They don't ever go away. We ignore them, we move on with our lives, as if we can succcessfully lie to ourselves that they're not there. That they don't bite at us every moment of our lives.
We numb the pain by doing what we enjoy, even if it causes us more damage, but it seemed at that time that there was no better alternatives.
You think drug addicts don't know they're hooked? You think alcoholics don't know they're destroying their bodies? Gambling addicts don't know they're destroying their family?
Desperation pushes all of us to just seek something to avoid reality, because truth is, reality sucks, and sometimes, people just say "Face it" and expect things to get better but it's all talk, and you know what talk is.
We run, because if we don't, it hurts, we can't face it, even if we do muster all our courage.
Distraction is a curse. We end up neglecting what we have to do because we are so focused on running, and bit by bit, our lives are corroded by the pain that has mutated into something too big for us to deal with.
--
I was young when people told me I could have everything I wanted if I worked hard.
But some things are just out of reach, and I have resorted to telling myself that that's a beautiful lie we give our children so we don't show them how cruel the world is from day one, because it can be too much for a young mind.
Life is, after all, a gamble. You do all you can and just hope the die falls in your favour. A one and you're just gonna move a level forward. Roll a six and you get to go again, and again, and again. How much are you willing to gamble?
Truth is, you bet big to win big, but sometimes, you just don't win.
--
We all want to show the good sides of ourselves, but what's the point? If everyone is having a good life, is anyone really having a good life? If everyone is having a shitty day, isn't everyone having, by comparison, an average day?
Drop the pretense. What scares you? What stops you from achieving your very best?
Often, it can be yourself, and as your regrets pass you by, your dreams become nothing more than a distant memory.
It hurts to think that, but it can never hurt more than spending a day regretting, and just being you.
The courage to stand up, and say "Let's do it" is what changes more people than we give it credit for.
--
So, a few hundred thousand hours spent solemnly reflecting and pondering later...
The decision has been made. We all fail in life. We all have that one dream that we want to achieve, but never could. What makes a story interesting is how the protagonist first falls, then rises. What makes a photographer different is his connection with his emotions. What makes him cry? What makes him reflect? What made him hurt, what made him feel, what made him human?
It's a long shot, and I'm still afraid of failures, I'm still hiding behind a "he" because I don't want to say that's me. I hide behind what I cannot reason.
I have wondered, always, if I was a robot, because in moments of happiness, I am never ecstatic. In sadness, I was never sorrowful. In anger, I was never wrathful.
I now know the answer. I am not a robot, because a robot will never know the fear of failure as much as well as I, a human, could.
So what stops me? Maybe myself? Maybe the world. But it's time to stop pondering, to pick up something and to make things different.
To disrupt. To change things up. To give my life a purpose again.
It's high time for a change, let's hope this goes well.
He loved it. He loved the joy of people dancing around him, the heavy beats of the music. He thought that was the purpose he was going to pursue.
So he worked really hard to be where he needed to be, but when the time came, he realised that the pressure was too great, he couldn't do what he had to.
Till today, he knows not why he failed. He attributed it to his fear. A fear of failure. He blamed it on competition, the likes of which he never faced before. He never learnt why, but he always harboured a hope for the future, maybe that was not the path meant for him. So he waited
And when the time came again, he sat again, and he realised, he couldn't do it. All that "strength" he had in the past had vanished, evaporated into thin air. He knew not where it went, but all he knew was that, when the time was right, he simply couldn't.
He failed.
He just kept blaming himself. Why this, why that. But he didn't have any answers. Everytime he looks back, it still stings so much that he never could be where he wanted to be. He did everything right, yet it was just out of reach.
How different would his life be then?
He saw the same booth again. He had a second chance. His lecturers told him to go for it, but when he walked towards that familiar spot and saw the face of people optimistically signing up, he realised that it's right.
He'll never make it.
So he channeled this anger, this frustration that it was too close yet too far. He worked harder than ever and wowed himself. He never knew it was in him.
It seemed that he had found himself a new pastime, but he never put the demons to rest.
So when he sees that utopia, old wounds start to ache.
But by now, the pain has been numbed. People would throw questions at him. What do you want to do in the future? And he knew the answer, but he knew that it was not the answer. It was a question a realistic question. So he would craft another answer, because he knew it was not what he could achieve, and what is just a dream will never be an answer others want to hear.
When he looks at his dream, and hardly recalls how it feels, all he can do is think of how it felt, being there for that one moment.
So where does he go now?
--
Some kinds of pain just don't heal. They don't ever go away. We ignore them, we move on with our lives, as if we can succcessfully lie to ourselves that they're not there. That they don't bite at us every moment of our lives.
We numb the pain by doing what we enjoy, even if it causes us more damage, but it seemed at that time that there was no better alternatives.
You think drug addicts don't know they're hooked? You think alcoholics don't know they're destroying their bodies? Gambling addicts don't know they're destroying their family?
Desperation pushes all of us to just seek something to avoid reality, because truth is, reality sucks, and sometimes, people just say "Face it" and expect things to get better but it's all talk, and you know what talk is.
We run, because if we don't, it hurts, we can't face it, even if we do muster all our courage.
Distraction is a curse. We end up neglecting what we have to do because we are so focused on running, and bit by bit, our lives are corroded by the pain that has mutated into something too big for us to deal with.
--
I was young when people told me I could have everything I wanted if I worked hard.
But some things are just out of reach, and I have resorted to telling myself that that's a beautiful lie we give our children so we don't show them how cruel the world is from day one, because it can be too much for a young mind.
Life is, after all, a gamble. You do all you can and just hope the die falls in your favour. A one and you're just gonna move a level forward. Roll a six and you get to go again, and again, and again. How much are you willing to gamble?
Truth is, you bet big to win big, but sometimes, you just don't win.
--
We all want to show the good sides of ourselves, but what's the point? If everyone is having a good life, is anyone really having a good life? If everyone is having a shitty day, isn't everyone having, by comparison, an average day?
Drop the pretense. What scares you? What stops you from achieving your very best?
Often, it can be yourself, and as your regrets pass you by, your dreams become nothing more than a distant memory.
It hurts to think that, but it can never hurt more than spending a day regretting, and just being you.
The courage to stand up, and say "Let's do it" is what changes more people than we give it credit for.
--
So, a few hundred thousand hours spent solemnly reflecting and pondering later...
The decision has been made. We all fail in life. We all have that one dream that we want to achieve, but never could. What makes a story interesting is how the protagonist first falls, then rises. What makes a photographer different is his connection with his emotions. What makes him cry? What makes him reflect? What made him hurt, what made him feel, what made him human?
It's a long shot, and I'm still afraid of failures, I'm still hiding behind a "he" because I don't want to say that's me. I hide behind what I cannot reason.
I have wondered, always, if I was a robot, because in moments of happiness, I am never ecstatic. In sadness, I was never sorrowful. In anger, I was never wrathful.
I now know the answer. I am not a robot, because a robot will never know the fear of failure as much as well as I, a human, could.
So what stops me? Maybe myself? Maybe the world. But it's time to stop pondering, to pick up something and to make things different.
To disrupt. To change things up. To give my life a purpose again.
It's high time for a change, let's hope this goes well.
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