I would like to start my life now.
Typing that, it feels the same as saying “I will take the job”. My words will solidify an action, and irreversible steps will be taken. The energy has been thrown out with reckless abandon into the universe to eat up and spit out whatever it may back to me. I think for a long while I have been afraid of what treasures or toil it may launch back but recently all I can think about is a longing for something other than the horrendously usual destruction that has fallen on my life.
Sometimes I wonder if all these endings mean something. The ending of my childhood was long ago, much younger than most people my age, but I feel that I’m starting to mourn that now. I have killed former selves savagely with my bare hands, criticizing their work ethic, their beauty, or their intelligence. Without hesitation, I create an ending for myself, the way the Queen of Hearts screams “off with their head!”. I used to take pleasure in creating endings but I’ve recently grown tired of the sport. I wish to stick to one vessel, one body, one mind, one goal and marry it the way I would another person. Perhaps if I marry my vision, that love will last longer than anything I could ever find in someone else Security in its purest form.
I would like to start my life now, perhaps the way it’s been intending to go. Is it possible to jump back into the current of the “should be” once you’re out of it? Will it take me like a riptide or will I have to swim until my muscles are torn? Is there a path that was set out for me when I was born? I often think about fate and destiny. I learned in Theology class long ago that God gave man free will, but there was no reason behind that. Is it possible for one’s own mistakes and shortcomings and free will to run so far from the expected and proper path that you get lost in the woods? Is it possible that I have not strayed too far to get back? Is there anything lighting my way? What is the correct path through life, how will I know?
These questions ring louder the more frustrated I get with people, events, situations. I feel like I’m scrambling in the dark to grasp on to the answer of one, just one, and suddenly feel a lightness. I’m waiting for the moment when I stumble upon an energy that pushes me forward in the right way, and that feeling of knowing will wash over me, warm and comforting. The fighting knight in me can finally take its armor off to kneel and say “the deed is done.”
It’s disheartening to think that there may be no path, no destiny. I’m simply an organism floating around an advanced society, doing as I please. That seems like a dark, pessimistic way to think. I don’t want to imagine my life is pointless, it’s beginning and end may mean nothing to the universe as a whole. But I digress, it’s not even lunchtime and I’m having an existential crisis. Typical.
I would like to start my life now, as I feel that I have been sleeping for several years. I used to have a strong sense of self and identity when I was younger. I wrote in my journal every night dreaming about being a journalist, a painter, a novelist, an anything that would keep me happy. One thing led to another and even though I may enjoy my job, I am none of those exciting, glittery titles like New York Times political correspondent or best-selling novelist. I have flaws, too many to list, that I would like to eradicate, ones I didn’t acknowledge in those younger years. Ones that have stayed through the massacre of my former selves, stuck to my core like glue and I cannot shake them. It makes me wonder if they’re there for a reason. Perhaps I’m supposed to be over emotional and sensitive and loud. I’m meant to take up space and be an inappropriate conversationalist and have a messy bedroom. Can I use these things to my advantage? Can I accept them and move on from them to a place in which they don’t bother me? I have a strong inkling that this is part of my life starting.
I used to think my life would start once I got a job, or once I moved in with a boyfriend, or once I got married, or once I sold my first book, or once I moved to New York City. But I realize that every moment of my life currently is the real thing. There is no incubation period to prepare and hone my skills before I immerge confidently in the world to stand in my place in society. Every moment that passes is the real thing. That’s scary and thrilling at the same time and I’m wondering if this realization is the reason I have retracted into a comfortable space of anxious loops for so long.
I’d like to start my life now, in a quiet way. No more nonsense, no more opinions of others, no more dead ends. No more pursuits that start strong and end soon and weakly. I’ve been told many times by so many that I am a strong person, but I seldom feel that way. All my endings have been vicious or weak, no in between.
I’d like to start my life now, and unequivocally that means I must start writing again. I must throw that out in the universe and know that I cannot control what comes back but I sure as hell can write about it. It’s time, once again, to regenerate.