To expect less is to see something big in small things
I just turned 22 more than a week ago. I actually felt overwhelmed that I get this far in life. I could have been taken earlier by someone up there but I’m still alive and kicking. When I got severely ill when I was 14 years old due to a disease that you get from a mosquito bite, I could have not survived. Or if the future cause of my death actually happened earlier than it’s supposed to be, I could have not made it to 22 years and seven days of existence. And I wouldn’t have the chance at all to write this blog post.
I’m just saying, I appreciate having to be allowed to stay here on earth for more days, or if I’m lucky, years and years more. Even if I sometimes feel I don’t belong in this world, I am actually grateful that the entire human existence has accepted a kind of entity like me that has been ungrateful towards it for a significant combined amount of time.
This year, I couldn’t be more thankful about everything. I kind of trimmed my expectations so I start seeing things in a bigger frame rather than in a smaller four-cornered border of my former poignant judgement. I used to dramatise over a cakeless birthday celebration, a greeting that never came, and a party that no one ever came to. At least I just used to, that’s not the case anymore.
On the day of my birthday, I really haven’t planned out anything special. I just played basketball and felt extremely alive. In the middle of the game, while I was already starting to struggle breathing, I just thought “I am so alive” and smiled.
Honestly, I do not know yet what my purpose in life is. I could be a superhero in the future, die saving another life, or live through a desperate need to be saved. I still have so many questions and I have so many undone puzzles stacked to each other exhaustingly waiting to be completed.
Life is such a very interesting topic to think about. It spans across the entire universe up to the last strand of your hair. From being so broad, there are times that you would feel that it is so close to you, that everything is just suddenly too personal. Its diversity is killing me each time I contemplate over it. It is much bigger than brooding over the existence of the whole world. Is death really the end of it? Or humans are just assuming too much about it? What if there’s really life after death? I really don’t know. All I know is as long as I’m breathing, there’s a life that I need to salt away… to exhaust before being able to relax freely and to let fall down in order to learn how to fly high.