Get your own Free Home PageI read some things written by ----- tonight. I've said it a hundred times before, but he never ceases to amaze me... he reminds me so much of myself a few years ago. But he's different. He's what I could have been, not what I became.
Have you ever thought about what you could have been if you had done certain things differently throughout the years? That girl you had a crush on a few years back, the one you never got up the nerve to tell her about. That old friend that you kept meaning to write to and then it had gotten to be so long that you just didn't know what to say to them anymore. That breakup that you've regretted for so long now. What would you be like if things had just been a little bit different, if the world had just decided to roll your way a little more? Would you be happier?
Now, how does it make you feel, thinking about those things? Are you upset? Are you getting a little misty? Or are you willing to forget it and truly put it in the past? What would it be like if you actually met yourself, but it was the other you? The one you always imagine you could've been. Would he be the kind of person you'd want to be around? Would the knowledge of how much better things went for him upset you, or would you shake his hand and give him a big grin, saying "Congratulations, fella! You did well for yourself, you did all those things the way I wish I had. You're living the good life now, yes sir, and I'm happy for you!" What would you feel?
I've grown to respect ----- an incredible amount over the years. He always seems to me to have a natural charisma, something I saw in myself many years ago but which I was never able to properly harness, something which I now see as a dusty tool, sitting in the back shed, something which my personality has forgotten how to use and can't re-learn. He is better with women than I ever was, although on that count at least I've had some amazing luck, if nothing else. I have been lucky enough to know some women that changed me in ways I didn't think anyone could. But I've screwed up enough relationships to realize that I'm not exactly the Casanova I wish I was. Don't get me wrong, I think of plenty of romantic things to say and do, but I lack the courage to actually stick by these ideas.
And yet it looks like ----- is experiencing something which I experienced many a time on my trek through the high school years -- that inescapable frustration and agitation that comes when you have such a notable difference between what is and what could have been. And for that, I am immensely disturbed. I wish for ----- all the happiness I missed out on, and more. He certainly deserves it, for being someone as brilliant as him almost invariably becomes a stigma during that period of life. I fled from the awkwardness of being an "honor" student through my recreational use of drugs and my emotional and social withdrawal. Indeed, these things became the "primary action items" of my life, my ways of dropping under the radar to avoid the attacks of those who viewed "honor" students as contemptable.
----- on the contrary has not lowered his head to the masses. He refuses to give in to the standards of the world around him, a living example of an ideal which I feared to openly express.
Perhaps ----- would say that I am laying to much credit at his feet, that he isn't as extraordinary as I believe him to be. In fact, I'm almost certain he would refuse the accolades I place upon him. But still I know that somewhere inside him he recognizes his own greatness, something which I may have once had, but which to me is harder to hold than mercury. I make my efforts to make it to a glory which I could have possessed had I done things differently, but I find myself afraid to admit that it is likely much too late for me to pick up the pieces.
For -----, though he may not realize it, the pieces are still in his hands. The ship is not sinking, indeed the wound barely goes beyond the first few layers of skin. Yet it is a painful blow, one that seems to be much worse than it is in reality. I hope that he may realize this as well, although it will be difficult. The possibility that the wounds dealt us in life aren't as harsh as we feel them to be is a difficult concept for many, and I don't imagine that this is beyond the realm of possibility in his case. Yet I dearly hope that my thoughts don't come to fruition in this instance. He holds within him the pieces to make something great, if he can keep them firmly in his grasp and someday obtain all he needs to put them together. It would do my heart well to see him succeed, and perhaps 40 years from now I will be able to read about his successes and have a nice joyful cry for the way things turned out so well for him.
Is this what I'm left with, however? Must I shed those tears only for the successes of others? Or is it still possible to pull myself together into that person that I have imagined I might have been. Is it possible for me to make the gap between what is and what could have been a nonexistent one? May I someday be happy with everything in my life, content with my achievements, forgiving of my own failures, and successful in my endeavors?
Look around you, see the light of the world. I sit in a darkened room, a glow cast on my face from a monitor. The music plays in my ears; slow, soft, solemn, with a rising saxophone, aiming upwards in an arc towards its crescendo. The white light is warm and beautiful on my face, and I find it impossible to turn away. Maybe around me there is a darkness, maybe the blackness threatens me from both sides and behind. But I can look forward and see that light and know that the great possibilities are still out there somewhere.
Inside everyone is a capability for love. Inside all of us exists a peaceful person who wants everything to be okay for everyone. Does the world educate us to forget about that person? Are we taught to become callous and cold, to hide our feelings and forget the beauty of the world in which we live? Is anger something we know inately, or is it something that we learn from our parents, from our peers, from our society? Why do we hate? What purpose does it serve? Hatred is destructive towards both the hater and the hated, so why do we still cling to it like some demonic chastity belt?
Look at the world. Question the power that gives your government and religion authority over you, and question where that power comes from. Question the necessity of the outdated, outmoded institutions, that we all seem to take for granted in our world. Question the policies of the people who've been elected to "lead" you, and question the options you were given in the last election. Did any of them actually speak for your views, or did you have to choose between someone who had a couple views almost like yours and someone who had views that were slightly less like your own?
But while you're doing all that, don't get cynical. Questioning the world and the system that you're trapped in is entirely different from becoming a bitter and cynical person who has forgotten about the beauty of the world.
Look at the way light comes through the window when you've been in the shower for a while, the condensed steam giving it an otherwordly, ethereal quality. Look at the rainbow on the bottom of a compact disc and wonder at the beauty that exists in the simple purity of those colors. Listen to a song you love and get up and dance to it. If someone sees you, smile and keep dancing. Or ask them to join you. Give someone a hug. A kiss. Tell someone that you care about them, and mean it. Give someone a gift -- even if it's small, give them one and watch their face when you give it to them. Look at the surprise and the happiness and remember it. Hold it closer to you than any gold ring or precious stone. Listen to your friends laugh and think about how happy the sound makes you. Sing to yourself. Sing to someone you love. Sing to someone you care about. Tell the world that it's not as bad as it sometimes pretends to be. Pick up something and look at it closely -- very closely. Look at the texture, roll it around in your hand, think about how wondrous it is just to be able to see and feel. Use each one of your senses to the best of your ability for five minutes each and realize just how wondrous each one is. Grab someone you love and hold them. Feel the warmth of their body and how good it feels just to be close to someone. Talk to a stranger, talk to that person you've seen around but never said Hi to. Speak up in class, speak up in conversation, don't let people forget you exist. Don't let yourself forget you exist. The world is in front of you, and so many people forget that it's even there. Take some time yourself, turn all the clocks away from you and just do something you enjoy for as long as you want. Forget about schedules and deadlines and time commitments for just a little while and realize that many of the things you think are so important might not matter all that much in the end. Talk to your friends and realize how much they do matter. Eat a meal and do it slowly so you can enjoy it. Go to a museum and marvel at just how much man can do when they try. Read a poem outloud to yourself and really absorb the words.
In short... live.
Back to Notes.
Back to Main Page.
Get your own Free Home Page