I wish I could express my thoughts as eloquently as before. But as at now, my mind is written in a language that I know not how to transcribe to English.
I’m frustrated at my lack of direction in life; something I prided upon in the past. Now its all groggy as though I’m recovering from amnesia. My confidence and assertiveness have dwindled and I find it difficult to assert my fair rights and stand. To worsen my predicament, every time I hear that (if you know it, then you know; otherwise, mind your own business), I feel as though someone has broken my ribs apart to slice my heart over and over. Circumstance makes it difficult for me to love, let alone feel compassion, for another person.
This is what happens when you live life without religion. You cannot rely on the ‘infallible’ fairytale of humans to fix your life. You cannot attach yourself to an ‘absolute’ truth. Ironically, there is no such thing as absolute truth nor reality. However, when you hit rock bottom (or are in denial that you are melancholic), it becomes tough to contemplate your situation.
Even then, I’m contented to make up the rules and principles of my own life. For one, I prefer to think for myself and not be lectured about morality.
It is therefore prudent that I begin by taking charge of my life and start respecting myself as an individual. I cannot constantly neglect my needs, because by doing so, I’m subconsciously allowing people to step all over me.
And I must stop perceiving the world in terms of ‘statistics’. For instance, statistics like: “Most people die by the age of 70” , are not only inaccurate but place limits on what I can achieve as an individual. I cannot let these statistics dictate whether I’ll achieve my goal. Instead, I must push on despite the shit and uncertainty to create my path. I already know the typical life of the people in my land is not my path.
P.S. Don’t be a smart aleck to assume that I’m worried about dying at the age of 70. The statistic (which is totally made up) is just a convenient example to shield my real concerns. You think you know me, but what you know of me is what I allow you to know. Perhaps its time I trusted a few other close friends to be not shameless gossips.