At 18, I
“Courage is not an absence of fear, but the realization that there are things in life more important than fear.”
I write this tonight as any impassioned writer would- with courage and with conviction. I have dealt with fear and uncertainty my entire life. My decisions have all been tainted by a sense of social stigma.
As I sit here now, looking at myself, I am immediately struck with a feeling of awe, a mad passion for life itself. I have this wild urge to live, to thrive amongst a world where I probably would never belong. Personally I believe that happiness comes with acceptance, not of others but yourself. I am my worst critic, and yet I do know that when I need to get back to life in the truest sense, I would be the one pushing myself up. Narcissism is a necessary evil in this case- it does bring out the best in you.
When you sit by yourself on a lonely cliff, overlooking that lost city, a million thoughts race through your head. You look at the brilliant red of the sun trying to lose its sheen, and you are reminded of your own life losing momentum, trying to slow down. Fate seems to be playing cruel games; destiny has your course all charted out. And yet, being a rationalist, you would never allow yourself to believe in it completely. The conflict begins again. I have felt it forever, just as you do at this moment.
I am tired tonight, as I have been for the past 18 years of my life. I look back, and find no answers. I look beyond the horizon for reassurance, but all I can see is black. Rather grim prospect to be staring incessantly into the electronic void. I cannot think of anyone but myself suffering from a mid-life crisis at 18. Maybe that is the irony that I have tried to grapple with my entire life. And maybe that is why I choose now to scream it out to the world.
I told myself once that I don’t speak to be heard, but merely for the satisfaction in having spoken incorrigibly. That statement stemmed from an essential fear that if I spoke, no one would listen. My defence mechanism started working instinctively, and I reassured myself that people were not the goal of my life. That was a long 2 years ago.
A lot has changed since then. I have loved so deeply that it makes me cry when I think of it. I realized what it really means to be me. I looked inside dark alleyways, and azure skies, searching for an escape route. I never found it. I don’t think I ever will.
I have stopped looking for a kindred soul. I no longer have rose tinted glasses through which I can peer into the world. It seems stark, almost Bohemian, contradicting the naïve dream I had in my head. The sky seems paler than ever, and the diffused grey of the storm cloud is heading towards my universe. The eagle rushes for cover, but the mosquito does start to hum. Now escapism seems passé.
The ghosts of all my lifetimes rise eerily, and start to haunt my subconscious again. But this time I am prepared; I do not run. My senses have slowed down, my vision is faded, but I stand startlingly still. The bottled up emotions hit me all at once, and I fall. It seems forever.
I am hurt, but I can walk again. It is dark, but I can feel. You may not be there holding my hand, but I do sense your presence. The universe is a large, and sometimes confusing place, and you will eventually find your way to me. The glimmer of a smile lights up my face, and I quietly tell myself that the road ahead is long, the path winding. It holds promise of immeasurable pain, and untold agony; but as long as it doesn’t kill me, I will survive. I will see the sunlight again, and the promise of another day.
I write this tonight as any impassioned writer would- with courage and with conviction. I have dealt with fear and uncertainty my entire life. My decisions have all been tainted by a sense of social stigma.
As I sit here now, looking at myself, I am immediately struck with a feeling of awe, a mad passion for life itself. I have this wild urge to live, to thrive amongst a world where I probably would never belong. Personally I believe that happiness comes with acceptance, not of others but yourself. I am my worst critic, and yet I do know that when I need to get back to life in the truest sense, I would be the one pushing myself up. Narcissism is a necessary evil in this case- it does bring out the best in you.
When you sit by yourself on a lonely cliff, overlooking that lost city, a million thoughts race through your head. You look at the brilliant red of the sun trying to lose its sheen, and you are reminded of your own life losing momentum, trying to slow down. Fate seems to be playing cruel games; destiny has your course all charted out. And yet, being a rationalist, you would never allow yourself to believe in it completely. The conflict begins again. I have felt it forever, just as you do at this moment.
I am tired tonight, as I have been for the past 18 years of my life. I look back, and find no answers. I look beyond the horizon for reassurance, but all I can see is black. Rather grim prospect to be staring incessantly into the electronic void. I cannot think of anyone but myself suffering from a mid-life crisis at 18. Maybe that is the irony that I have tried to grapple with my entire life. And maybe that is why I choose now to scream it out to the world.
I told myself once that I don’t speak to be heard, but merely for the satisfaction in having spoken incorrigibly. That statement stemmed from an essential fear that if I spoke, no one would listen. My defence mechanism started working instinctively, and I reassured myself that people were not the goal of my life. That was a long 2 years ago.
A lot has changed since then. I have loved so deeply that it makes me cry when I think of it. I realized what it really means to be me. I looked inside dark alleyways, and azure skies, searching for an escape route. I never found it. I don’t think I ever will.
I have stopped looking for a kindred soul. I no longer have rose tinted glasses through which I can peer into the world. It seems stark, almost Bohemian, contradicting the naïve dream I had in my head. The sky seems paler than ever, and the diffused grey of the storm cloud is heading towards my universe. The eagle rushes for cover, but the mosquito does start to hum. Now escapism seems passé.
The ghosts of all my lifetimes rise eerily, and start to haunt my subconscious again. But this time I am prepared; I do not run. My senses have slowed down, my vision is faded, but I stand startlingly still. The bottled up emotions hit me all at once, and I fall. It seems forever.
I am hurt, but I can walk again. It is dark, but I can feel. You may not be there holding my hand, but I do sense your presence. The universe is a large, and sometimes confusing place, and you will eventually find your way to me. The glimmer of a smile lights up my face, and I quietly tell myself that the road ahead is long, the path winding. It holds promise of immeasurable pain, and untold agony; but as long as it doesn’t kill me, I will survive. I will see the sunlight again, and the promise of another day.
posted by Farzana Kader at 9:30 AM
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