I miss the girl I used to be. The one who could be happy by herself. Who was happy with her achievements and with her mistakes. Who could find joy in the smallest things such as a grocery store run or walking back home. The one who felt like she could do anything once she put her mind to it. Now I’m only happy when I am around certain people. I go home because I am tired, not because I find comfort in it. Groceries are a necessity, achievements feel mediocre and she hates herself with each passing day. I look at my old photos and I miss the girl I used to be.
Have you ever thought how many people we might have inspired, but will never know about it because they’re strangers. Maybe a nurse that took care of a young patient inspired them to become a nurse. A spokesperson inspired a boy to become more confident. We might never know these people, but to them we will always be a reason as to why they are where they are.
It’s the most simplest questions that are so hard to answer, questions like ‘ Are you happy?’ or ‘ How are you feeling today?’ because these are the questions that are rarely answered truthfully.
You know that feeling when you’re in your room and you have your earphones one and you’re just dancing to a song. Or that feeling when taking late night walks or talking with friends for hours and not realising how time went by so quickly? It’s in these times that I fall a little bit in love with life, a little bit out of reality and makes everything a bit better.
Your 20s are as a confusing time as your teenage years, because you have this realisation of new responsibilities and adulthood but you still feel like you’re a child, and you keep on looking at adults to tell you if you’re doing something wrong except you yourself are an adult now, and you keep second guessing yourself through things with faked confidence while also having a nervous meltdown inside, and it feels so freeing but scary at the same time, kinda like the first time you cross the road by yourself.
People talk about trying new things out all the time and there’s nothing wrong with that; but what about going back to our old stuff? The comfort shows we watch when we’re tired and drained, that specific song we listen to when we’re sad; a book that’s been reread so many times it cover is battered and the spine broken. Sometimes when we go back to the old things we notice what we didn’t before; a background vocal in a song; a quote that hits differently now. Sometimes going back to what we love isn’t so bad.
Ever wonder how many records in history are wrong? How many confessions have been changed to protect someone? How many people have actually been lost in a war ? People who were wrongly accused of a crime ? How much our our history textbooks is fact ?
It’s harder to take the easier path. When you’re living in a society that encourages grind culture. it’s harder for people to choose the easier path because we’re afraid of how society will view us as ‘weak’. But just because you took the easy way out doesn’t mean that you’re giving up; sometimes taking the easy way out means being kind to yourself and putting yourself first, it means patience to gain the strength to do what you want.
Sometimes I wonder if people are only kind because they are told that being kind leads to good karma and good things; so doesn’t that mean people are only kind because it benefits them? But then I remember a stranger running after me in the rain because I dropped some money, a cashier going the extra mile to help me with my things, a store manager helping when I didn’t have enough money on me and I think that kindness is a choice that we make but mostly it is a choice we make unconsciously; no ulterior motives whatsoever and most of the time our actions strive for good.
Therapy? Pfft who needs that when you psychoanalyse yourself after every mental breakdown ahahhaaha.
I love talking about books with strangers; one time I was buying the Starless Sea and the cashier told me how good the book was, and that her friend loved it so much that she got a tattoo of the bee on the cover. Another time I was reading Kafka on the Shore while volunteering at a charity shop; this girl came up to me and asked me if the book was good since it’s on her book list, and I told her it was really good.
I wish we could go back or bring back a time when we could study for enjoyment; when studying wasn’t about getting the best grades from standardised tests that barely make you think outside the box; when people genuinely sought knowledge for the sake of learning. Nowadays it’s all about getting a good degree just to make money, we want to finish our education quickly so we can start earning money quickly and in between we miss out out on the learning and it’s more of just racing to the finish line. It pains me so much that so many people who could’ve contributed a lot to society, are now lost just because of a piece of paper, or because they didn’t have enough money or they just lost the motivation for their passion.
A conversation with the cashier at a bookstore; a whisper in between shelves at a library; a joke with that barista; a confession at a church: sometimes it’s amazing how small interactions with strangers can make you feel as though not all of humanity is bad.