A Few Words on Life
How do we decide what is right?
There are the ones telling you that you need to make the money that they spent on your education worth it, that you need to do something above average with your life, for your own happiness, of course.
There are your mentors and peers who say you should do what you truly want to do and what it is that you're passionate about.
And there's your mind that has no idea whether to withhold the cultural standpoints or the modern ones.
How do we decide what is right for us?
If there even is a right and wrong, there's a line drawn between them layers and layers below the surface covered by the complexity of the human mind and smudged like chalk pastel creating shades of grey.
Of course, everything isn't this difficult to decide.
Killing someone is obviously wrong.
So is denying someone an education.
And eating someone else's chocolate cake
Unless of course they're diabetic or obese, in which case it's okay.
So I mean, I guess there's always a smudge somewhere.
And why is it so hard to express ourselves to the ones we love most?
The ones who have been with us all the way and supported us, why is it so easy to take them for granted?
It's just a few simple words that refuse to travel from Broca's to the larynx:
"I do miss you too. I do love coming home, but I need this time to figure out my life and be on my own. You can't protect me forever, but that doesn't mean I don't love you.
You're the biggest guidance I could ever have, but I need to make my own mistakes to learn from and I just want to enjoy this time while always having my eyes set on the goal."
My goal? Your dream? Someone's shifted the line markers.
I'm not sure what the goal is anymore, and I wonder if it's as hard for everyone else.
"I'm working on creating the goal and I won't waste my life away, I promise. Just please don't make me answer questions about things I don't know yet."
Maybe I should know already. I should.
I'm not being passive aggressive. I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings that aren't well conveyed as my eyes become rain clouds and my throat begins to tie itself in knots for no reason at all except that I feel like this has been rehashed quite enough and still not understood.
"We all have feelings, and I understand yours but for some reason I just can't bring myself to tell you that.
Maybe because I don't need a reason for you to be any closer to me than you already are. I love you but we need distance so that this isn't even harder when I do one day start my own life."
Ah, the rain. This must be it.
"Don't come any closer because I don't want to take the chance of accidentally stepping on your toe. But I guess that's just a risk we have to take.
My life will end up good and I'll make sure everything was worth it, I just need you to trust that right now.
If it's possible to work harder, I will, starting right now."
For someone who's rather good at controlling the weather, it's surprisingly hard for me to control the rain.
Droughts happen all the time, and sometimes we need the water just to revitalize.
There are the ones telling you that you need to make the money that they spent on your education worth it, that you need to do something above average with your life, for your own happiness, of course.
There are your mentors and peers who say you should do what you truly want to do and what it is that you're passionate about.
And there's your mind that has no idea whether to withhold the cultural standpoints or the modern ones.
How do we decide what is right for us?
If there even is a right and wrong, there's a line drawn between them layers and layers below the surface covered by the complexity of the human mind and smudged like chalk pastel creating shades of grey.
Of course, everything isn't this difficult to decide.
Killing someone is obviously wrong.
So is denying someone an education.
And eating someone else's chocolate cake
Unless of course they're diabetic or obese, in which case it's okay.
So I mean, I guess there's always a smudge somewhere.
And why is it so hard to express ourselves to the ones we love most?
The ones who have been with us all the way and supported us, why is it so easy to take them for granted?
It's just a few simple words that refuse to travel from Broca's to the larynx:
"I do miss you too. I do love coming home, but I need this time to figure out my life and be on my own. You can't protect me forever, but that doesn't mean I don't love you.
You're the biggest guidance I could ever have, but I need to make my own mistakes to learn from and I just want to enjoy this time while always having my eyes set on the goal."
My goal? Your dream? Someone's shifted the line markers.
I'm not sure what the goal is anymore, and I wonder if it's as hard for everyone else.
"I'm working on creating the goal and I won't waste my life away, I promise. Just please don't make me answer questions about things I don't know yet."
Maybe I should know already. I should.
I'm not being passive aggressive. I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings that aren't well conveyed as my eyes become rain clouds and my throat begins to tie itself in knots for no reason at all except that I feel like this has been rehashed quite enough and still not understood.
"We all have feelings, and I understand yours but for some reason I just can't bring myself to tell you that.
Maybe because I don't need a reason for you to be any closer to me than you already are. I love you but we need distance so that this isn't even harder when I do one day start my own life."
Ah, the rain. This must be it.
"Don't come any closer because I don't want to take the chance of accidentally stepping on your toe. But I guess that's just a risk we have to take.
My life will end up good and I'll make sure everything was worth it, I just need you to trust that right now.
If it's possible to work harder, I will, starting right now."
For someone who's rather good at controlling the weather, it's surprisingly hard for me to control the rain.
Droughts happen all the time, and sometimes we need the water just to revitalize.
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