So Far, No Good

Sometimes I wonder if the reason I don't like birthdays is because I have to grow up on those days.

6th of June looms closer and closer, and there's nowhere to run but to face it full on, head to head, chest to chest.

It's almost twenty years. 240 months. 1043.55 weeks. 7304.84 days. 175316 hours.

It's been twenty years. Well almost, anyway. What have I done with my life so far? What have I achieved?

A big, fat, nothing. At least not where it counts.

It's funny how you tend to do things you don't normally do when you're facing what you hate -- exams. Some people go on food binges, some stay up all hours of the night, some go into mood swings, some even go out to places they'd never went before.

Some people, like me, escape into worlds.Worlds that don't really belong to me, because I didn't have to courage to go after them.

Indeed. I really need to chase them instead of waiting for them to fall in front of me, because god knows, not even bird poo would fall in front of me.

The internet really is a powerful tool. It brings people closer, realize dreams, create worlds you'd never thought possible. It also helps you see where you are comparatively, and this time, as I surf through my peers' works, websites, and blogs, I'd seen something I've put off quite some time.

I don't have a dream.

Or rather, I don't have the courage to dream.

Looking back, I've always chosen the easy way out. Give me a choice and I'll always take the one that's easy, the one that cowards choose. It's easier having someone make the choice for you, instead of turning inwards and digging until you find what you want most out of life. And though I haven't many people who are willing to make the choice for me, I haven't been doing my digging. Rather, I'd just follow where others'd tread and follow the path most walked upon.

I remember way back in school we learnt Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken. I'd love that poem. I had entertained the possibilities, the wonder, the satisfaction of taking a road not normally taken. I'd allowed myself a moment of fantasy. But looking back, I realised, even then, wayyy deep down in that tiny pumping heart of mine, I'd never entertained the possibilities of ME taking that road.

Will I? Will I be telling this with a sigh somewhere in ages and ages? Will I look upon the road I chose with regret or rejoice, somewhere in ages and ages?

It's like, my whole life, I've lacked the courage to do something with my life. All those times I had failed in something I'd give myself an excuse. All those times I had a chance to do something, really do something with my life I'd put it off until a tomorrow which never came. And looking back it probably wasn't wise to let it go on until it'd become an instinctual reaction every time I face those opportunities again.

It's like I'd developed an Occlumency barrier, and shoves everything I don't want to admit, everything I don't want to face down there, and present a numb, blank, uncaring outward appearance.

An appearance, a mask, that's already beginning to grow on me and make me another faceless stranger in my own body. Another faceless soul in the midst of the millions of people who walk the earth.

I don't want to be that. I want to be able to look back at my life thirty, forty years from now and not regret a single thing I did. I want to be recognised, to be important, to be someone in life to others.

 I want to be able to say, "I lived."

And right now, I guess I need to face the greatest foe standing in my way. As I'm writing this post it's taking form. It's becoming clearer as to why I'm always running away instead of doing what's right. And I need to take that down instead of letting it ferment and fester inside.

Perhaps it's not only courage I need. Perhaps I also need that diligence I've never really had. I need that perseverance I'd never really possessed. I need to sit myself down and finish that novel I'd started but never finished. I need to sit myself down and really study, for knowledge and not just for tests. I need to hold a pen, a brush, anything and force the patience I never really had into my hand. I need to learn more about what I like most and focus on improving on it, instead of touching the surface of everything but never settling down.

I need to sit myself down and really ask myself, science, art, words or music?

And who else but me can give myself that?

Almost twenty, and still roaming aimlessly. What happened to me?

Dear me-in-the-past, what happened to us?

Right now, I need to ask myself.

What is my dream? What do I want? What do I like? Who am I?

Where do I see myself, twenty years from now?

Would I be where I want to be? Do I even know where I want to be?

And if this... this paralysis of my life continues, how long until I become nothing but another aimless, soulless, dreamless phantom driven by basic needs and nothing else?

One more week to twenty, and so far? No good.