Being Here

Sometimes we just need a push. We need a hand to pull us through and pat our backs and say, “I’m so proud of you”. Sometimes, we just need a smile; a reassurance that not everything might be wrong with the world. Sometimes, we can make do with a hand to hold on to, a hug that lasts a minute, a giggle that stays in our memory forever, a nod that sets us right. Sometimes, we just need proof that we do fit in.

There are these magical goals we put forth for ourselves, in which we imagine our magical lives. Some of us fake it by denying such magic; others drown in the sorrow of being the only ones who believe in its existence. While there are more who think they might never reach it, there are also those who guarantee themselves that they will. Some of us take a step forward and risk it all to see if they do reach it, while the others take one backwards afraid of the disappointments.

And then we cry when we can’t and laugh when we could, or drown in an ocean of happiness or sorrow no matter what we choose. And every time, that question keeps ringing in our heads, trying to figure out a path, or get out of one, or make another apart. “So, what is life?” it screams, as if we would know better by this point in our lives. “Is this worth it?” or “Is this the purpose of my life?” it shouts aloud, asking us the unknown that we have been wondering and wondering and wondering in circles of self-doubt, happiness, sadness, self-assurance, moments of courage, loneliness, or just that feeling of being there.

We think a lot, but like the high it gives us. We complain a lot, yet like the high that gives us. We want a lot, wondering what high that might give us. And we lose along the way of getting high on life.

Living is hard if we see it in its complexities. Yet, we do this every single day, every minute, every second. We are already achieving things we aren’t even aware of. We are already living without knowing what living is for.









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