memento mori, memento vivere

I’ve already written a few paragraphs before I decided to delete it because when I read it, it’s as if I wasn’t the one who wrote it. As if the one who wrote it tried so hard to be wise, to be mature for their age, to be somewhat–different. So I am going to try again. This isn’t going to be life-changing, nor would it be something that would challenge your principles. This isn’t meant for you to question life as I did. It is simply something I’d like to share, if, for instance, (and I hope we would, someday) we were having a cup of tea and talking about life. I’ve always wanted to do that. But for now, I will be the one talking.

I guess it’s necessary to begin with a greeting. A little hi, hello, and how do you do that doesn't mean much; simply a protocol for when friends see each other after a long time. So, hello, I guess? And then from the usual how are you, we take glimpses of the lives of each other, beginning with the shallow, how’s your family and how’s your job, and what changed? Nobody asks what changed you. Nobody asks what were the most recent lessons you had to learn the hard way. Nobody asks what you did today that made you smile. Nobody asks the important questions. Because for most of us, it needs a certain pint of alcohol or a grand ceremony to talk about things like that. Not us. Certainly not us.

So I say we start at the very beginning. We start at the time when the world hasn’t born its name. We start at nothing.

There is something profound in nothingness. I guess it’s because I could never imagine what nothing looks like. It doesn’t look like anything, of course, but my mind could not comprehend what it really means. Perhaps this is why we kept on filling in spaces which are meant to be nothing. Perhaps this is why we kept on finding and creating things to believe in. Perhaps this is why we’re all broken. Perhaps.

I couldn’t remember when the thought came to mind. Maybe I was washing the dishes then, or maybe I was simply staring at the void at 2 am because it is when my soul is the most alive. Or maybe I was walking towards a class and then the thought stopped me on my tracks. I couldn’t remember. But at that time, I realized that the greatest invention of man is purpose. Maybe being alive doesn’t mean anything. Maybe there isn’t a great explanation or a heavenly reason why we’re here. Maybe no one knows, not even God, or the other gods, or whoever created us. Or maybe nobody created us. Maybe all this–is for nothing. And we couldn’t understand that. We couldn’t accept that. Maybe that is why we kept on believing in things that aren’t actually real. Capitalism. Patriarchy. Religion. We kept on holding on to something, anything, just to distract us from the terrifying reality that nothing actually matters.

I think about it all the time. How hopes and dreams are mere emotional tactics for us to stay here a little longer, much like an animal’s survival instinct. How love and affection are mere emotions to encourage us to reproduce, just so we wouldn’t be extinct. How the system we have created is merely an illusion of order against the chaos of a universe we are forced to be in. I sometimes scream and blame whoever or whatever put me here. Because, why am I here? Why am I still here?

When I was a child, I had this recurring episode when I felt completely detached from the world and completely aware of my own existence. I couldn't explain it then, but it felt as if I was the only one who was real. As if everything around me was moving on autopilot. I would get so terrified back then that I would cry for hours. It was my very first experience of helplessness. I couldn’t explain it nor could I stop crying and panicking because of something I couldn’t grasp. I still experience it sometimes, but it doesn’t make me cry anymore. It makes me feel like I am in touch with my soul–if there really is one–and I could take a moment to pause and see life as it is. It’s difficult, in a way, to stop trying to interpret life and see it as it is. Much like seeing a painting with the wonder of a child opening their eyes for the first time.

But of course, I don’t always see life as it is. Most often than not, I see it through the lenses of what I feel. I’m sure you know this one. When the logical and emotional parts of you play a tug of war and neither wins because either way, you lose something. You lose a part of you that wants to take that chance. Or, you lose a part of you precisely because you took the chance. It’s frustrating how the consequences from the choices we make always demand sacrifices. Why do we always have to lose something?

The thing that I hate the most is how the world continues to spin even when I am completely and hopelessly shattered by the same world that wanted me to keep moving. The same world that I wanted to pause, even just for a minute, just to let me breathe because I couldn’t bear the agony that it wounds me with. But the world doesn’t. It keeps moving. And I have to keep moving. I have to continue waking up and surviving, and being nice to people even if all I wanted to do was to sulk in my room and never open the door again. The word is that cruel.

Maybe I’m not the saddest person on earth. Maybe I’m not the most broken. Or the most exhausted. Or the most whatever it is that describes exactly what I am feeling right now. But isn’t it so tiring to be doing the exact same thing everyday with nothing but a tiny hope that tomorrow’s gonna be better than yesterday? Isn’t it heartbreaking how we keep ourselves busy just so we wouldn’t feel lonely anymore, because when we’re alone again, we long for something we don’t even know?

It’s easy to pretend. Humans are the chameleons of primates. We smile. We laugh. We move with calculated movements that would look normal. It’s like life keeps throwing lemons with a catapult and then it just keeps coming and coming and coming and then we try to catch each one of them with one hand and make a lemonade with the other, trying to not drop anything because if one lemon drops, everything else drops and oh no! the lemonade would spill and the lemons would pile up and we wouldn’t have time to make lemonades and AAAAGH. You can imagine the chaos. Yeah, that practically sums up our lives, doesn’t it? Tsk. Lemons.

You may already know this but lemons aren’t actually found in nature. Lemons are a hybrid of bitter orange and citron. They are manmade. So when they say that life gives us lemons, it’s just us creating the lemons. It’s a nice fact to live by. Maybe when we try to learn to live with the lemons, we can just watch them hit our faces and just–laugh at it. And then take a little step back. And pick up the lemon. And then just take a good look at it. And then maybe put a little smile. Because sometimes we need that kind of rest. That good old laugh when everything seems to fall apart. And then maybe we could go on for another day. And then another. And another. And another.

I have no idea how to live. Nobody has. We’re all trying to survive. We’re all trying to find out who we truly are and why we are here. We’re all trying. But maybe we don’t have to try. Maybe we don’t have to know. Maybe we can just stay here a little longer and see where it goes. Maybe we can just gaze at the stars or watch the sunset or listen to the waves and catch a few shooting stars while lying on the sand at midnight. Or maybe we can scream at the karaoke with friends or drink beer or hike or snuggle with somebody while watching a movie. Maybe we can just walk slowly and gaze at life the way it was chiseled to be and marvel at it as we hold our dreams on our side, like a kid who has a yellow balloon tied on her pointing finger. After all, life isn’t merely something to get over with. Life is–an experience. A story.

I still have so much to say but so far, that’s what is happening in my life. Those are the answers nobody asks about. I hope you find comfort in it as I did. I am looking forward to a cup of tea (or coffee? or beer? just kidding–or? hehe) with you. Have a day. It doesn’t have to be good, it doesn’t have to be bad. Just have a day. One day at a time.