February 19, 2013
I used to think life is a curse. You fall and fall forever. One tiny droplet of happiness will be paid forward by unrelenting pain. There’s never a cure for your heartbreaks and you’re never given a chance to do the right remedies. You are always trapped inside an ever-expanding cave of fear and anxiety, never given an idea how to escape. When you finally think you have an idea, time will surprise you with the realisation that it’s only an illusion. So you find yourself in square one. There’s just never a break. Not even one second to feel relief.
But that’s what I used to think.
Now, I don’t anymore. Through a long series of mediocre events, this persepective has shifted. I now realize that life is actually a chance. Your whole life is a chance. Inside that chance, you’re given lots of other chances. You go from here to there (that includes the heartbreaks and disappointments) to make the best of your chances. You feel this and that to give you ideas how. All of it, every single second you go through, every single day, is a chance. To find out what your purpose is. To make the best of your subchances inside your bigger frame of chance that is life. And, now, every time I wake up in the morning, in the afternoon, or even at night, I feel grateful. Because my chance is still running. Because even though you take breaks some time, the chance still exist as long as you live.
To look at it another way: when you’re defeated, you’re given a chance to want victory. When you’re tired, you’re given a chance to think things through and set up a better strategy. Life is not a competition with other people; it’s only with time that you’re competing with. Heck, life is not a competition to win. It’s merely a door, a given time and place, to always try to win. And so you try, and try, and try again. Until you’re defeated for real. Until you feel your chances are enough. Until time decides that your chances are enough.
March 19, 2015
Above is an account of what great a thing life is, written in the middle of my ever-expanding, ever-enveloping cave of fear, anxiety, and worries. One tiny window of hope that showed itself in the middle of defeat. After all, my life is a great battle.
Now that I’m feeling a lot better (Thank you #happinessproject!), I think I can say something about death.
In the middle of my sorrowful life back then, all I thought about was death. I used to experience sleep apnea, where I suffocated in my sleep and feel like death is also wide awake beside me, watching me and waiting for me to lose all the control and snap me out of life when I’m not aware of it. But the funny thing is, I’ve never ever written anything on Death and what it meant to me. I can say now that it meant liberation, but also was my biggest fear in life. Queer isn’t it; my biggest fear in my life was my death. My end of life. That didn’t even make sense if you thought about it, since death is not life. It’s a part of life, but if you draw a diagram, it’s not inside the circle of Life.
I’m carrying my own sunshine everywhere now, and I feel great. All I can think about is how to live better, how to live my way through the storms, and all other how-tos. But I have never once, since then, written anything on Life. I guess whenever something occupies your heart in such a big volume, you just stop writing about it. You write about something that crosses your mind once or twice, or in a passing, instead. Because it is smaller, further in distance, and you can observe clearly.
So now I will write on Death, even though I do not know where this writing will take me.
As I said, death was all I could ask for in the past, so that I didn’t have to be sad and lonely everyday. But when it seemed so near, I decided in all desperation that I still wanted to live. But now that I feel more alive, I still don’t want to die. But I can accept it that it’s all around us, even though every second that we are alive we are dodging a super-nearby bullet.
In my existential analysis class, my lecturer told us that in your existential life you have to be aware that death is what’s right in front of you. Every time. We are all coming face-to-face with it every second of our lives. The use of this thought? It is to be mindful of our aliveness. In other words, to be aware that this very second we are in is a blessing and it might not even last that long. Since existentialism is all about determination, I can appreciate that thought. It means, like my friend put it, we “choose” not to die, from the day we were born up till now. So, we should be grateful for the fact that we are alive.
I’m not a person who believes in determination completely. As experiences taught me, I am so much aware of the fact that there are certain things (if not most of it) in life that we can’t choose, no matter how hard we try to make them be. Well, that’s not true. Lots of things in life will come true if you try hard, but what I mean is that the essence of what became is different when it’s meant to be with when you force it to be.
But it doesn’t mean all your efforts are a waste. It just means that your efforts were a result of a Power that wanted you to be where you are now. I believe that we are right where we are supposed to be, as a combination of our determination and destiny.
Death? Is everywhere. Admit it, we are scared of death even when we wish for it. But my opinion on it is still the same as two years ago: death is the end line of your chances. And the reason I am scared of it is because if I die, my chances will be gone. From the most trivial ones like finishing a TV series or the biggest ones in life like finally being able to write a legendary book for humankind.
The thing about death is that it lurks, and then it snatches you away to a world unknown to the alive. And it’s a scary world, because none of us have been there and can prepare for what to come. Even if we have prepared for it, we really have no idea if what we did is sufficient to keep us safe from the “zombies” there. (It goes even if there is no world after life. The thought of completely not existing, as I have been told, is terrorizing for some people.)
My feelings on death? Anxious. It gives me chills, especially at times when I see a terrible news about people dying, people lying dead, people killing each other. How would I feel when my time comes? How would the hands of Death touch me, and what would I think of it, if I’d be shaking or smiling, if I’d be relieved or afraid, or what would my last thoughts be? It’s scary, like all that’s happened in life would end and if people would be sad by your passing.
I didn’t want to die two years ago because I was sure that nobody would cry if I were gone. And it sucks because then my whole life would be a waste.
Now I just think that if I die right now, so many love that I feel for people would not be delivered. For things. For the trees, the air, the sea, the mountains, the birds, the snow, the stars, the sun, the moon, the clouds, for the love of my life, the things I embrace and cherish, the sounds, the smells, the smiles, the cries, the laughs, the good times and the bad times, the disasters and liberations—my feelings towards them won’t be conveyed anymore. And I wouldn’t be filling a space in the universe anymore. And my ideas and opinions would be gone. And my words would be nonexistent. And my voice would be unheard. And I would be silent.
And that’s scary.
So, before that chance ceases to exist, be thankful for where we are. Carpe diem. We are right where we’re supposed to be. When it’s time for death to say hello, it’s where it’s supposed to be too.
And that would be fair for us.