death of friendship must be mourned.
i remember being fourteen and reading Ray Bradbury for the first time. i remember thinking it ironic – reading a book about not reading. i remember Fahrenheit 451 being the first book to ever touch my soul… to touch me right where it hurts. i remember thinking, “someday, i want to write this feeling, this feeling that aches right where its supposed to, that makes your soul mourn and rejoice all at the same time”. i still want to write that feeling.
i think maybe, i’ll always want to write that feeling.
that’s the thing, isn’t it? the dream that we all have?
i was talking to my mom this morning about philosophical musings. i read the General and his Labyrinth (Simon Bolivar) this summer and i realized that the things i used to believe about the labyrinth was wrong.
i remember being eighteen and absolutely in love with John Green’s Looking for Alaska. i loved it because i thought i was Alaska (funny thing, R says that i actually do remind her of Alaska.) and i could relate to Alaska… all the intricacies of her thoughts. i remember agreeing when she said that the labyrinth is about suffering, and how do we ever get out of this labyrinth?
we don’t. we will never.
because that’s life.
Alaska was wrong. the labyrinth isn’t about suffering. it’s about knowing. philosophers know this, and maybe that’s why we’re all a little messed up. because in philosophy, you learn about thinking beyond the obvious. you learn to think about the flip sides. but thinking about the flip sides don’t always work out. sometimes, i think, you just drive yourself insane that way.
Socrates says that an unexamined life isn’t worth living, but this morning, i realized that maybe a thoroughly examined life isn’t really living.
we have to take risks, we have to fall, we have to jump off, we have to live and sometimes, living is simply surviving. oxymoronic. i know.
Taylor Swift once sang, people are people and sometimes we change our minds. But it’s killing me to see you go after all this time. i don’t know where i’m going to right now, but day nine of my hundred days of happiness has arrived with an epiphany. people are constantly telling others to love themselves, but i think maybe…
it’s not even about loving yourself, really.
it’s about knowing who you are.
and that’s the crux of it. the labyrinth, the world, the suffering… whatever it is, everything can be traced down to one simple factor. what do you know? and how do you know? and it isn’t about where the road leads you or how you got there. it ain’t even about the journey anymore.
so day 9 leaves me pondering, ‘who am i, really?’
someday, i hope i have an answer.
someday, i hope i’ll look back and remember being twenty and struggling with who i am, and trying to be who i want to be, and realizing that sometimes, you’re happy and sometimes you’re not and that’s normal.
John Steinback wrote in of mice and men,
“A guy sets alone out here at night, maybe readin’ books or thinkin’ or stuff like that. Sometimes he gets thinkin’, an’ he got nothing to tell him what’s so an’ what ain’t so. Maybe if he sees somethin’, he don’t know whether it’s right or not. He can’t turn to some other guy and ast him if he sees it too. He can’t tell. He got nothing to measure by. I seen things out here. I wasn’t drunk. I don’t know if I was asleep. If some guy was with me, he could tell me I was asleep, an’ then it would be all right. But I jus’ don’t know”
I think, today, I am happy, even if it isn’t heavy with epiphanies or triggered by deep thoughts. i’m learning that it’s OK to admit singing along to cheesy pop songs can trigger happiness. i think maybe being able to admit that when i never would before is a sign that i’m growing up.
i may not recognize who i am anymore, but i haven’t really been able to in a long time anyway. the road is twisted. i don’t quite have a path, but i’m taking the road less travelled. we’re all taking the road less travelled in our adventure of life.
i think this is called growing up and today, i am happy. oh, so happy!