Looking around, I find strength in the idea of the destination being all-that-matters is quite a reality. But irrespective of how hard I push myself, I fail to comprehend the notion of it. Not that I don’t empathize with it or a part of me even relates to it, the thought seems to conflict with what I’ve learned in the quarter of an idealistic lifetime. Uncertain lifetime, of course.
Funny thing is, no one has any idea on what that destination is. And yet, they (and a part of me, sadly) wants to rush there. All trying to steer to a place they can find the comforts of the world.
Being laid back for this journey is not an option.
For a second, let us all think of death. Yes, your own death. It won’t knock. It will come unannounced.
All the stress we take. All the future planning that we spend hours on, will simply be for nothing.
I’m not excluding myself from this. And neither should you. You, the one thinking, I have time.
Our complex life is a result of our own doing. Yes, everyone thinks their life is especially complex than others. Our romance with our own past struggle is gloriously insane. For the lack of a better adjective. True, nevertheless.
They say, ‘It doesn’t matter how you reach there, what matters is, whether you made it or not’.
A part of me wants (badly) to believe this and reach for those societal goals. A part of me is lazy enough to not care.
Both are wrong. And right.