“Some people do things with their lives. Other people do nothing at all.”
These were words mouthed by my mother last night, hissed with clear intent to maim on impact.
And she succeeded because they did just that. Because now I’m left with unruly thoughts that plague my mind, like where I exactly harmonise in this statement. I’ve always inherently believed that I was special, (even when contradicted daily) a diamond in the rough of sorts. And like a baby wolf abandoned by its mother I’ve had to fend and teach myself the lay of the land. The odds evidently stacked against me yet I continue to prevail. Though I’m far from domineering or reigning and more like a silent and unnoticed whisper, observing, compiling and musing from the scrubs. I’m given tribulations that should serve to destroy, yet manage to note the lesson and with it a hunger to help others in my shoes.
Three years ago I sacrificed everything for the pursuit of happiness. I refused to follow the herd and disavowed tirelessly making another’s dream reality. I put my life on mute as I attempted to bridle dreams that lay dormant for too many years. I trusted that I was doing right, even when probed, judged and condemned for my “foolish” choices. I believed I was doing something worthwhile with my life, forging a future and creating a name that could potentially move mountains some day. Fame even, not for the grandeur but for finally having a voice that would be heard.
A voice to do and spread compassion.
But I just can’t differentiate now; if I truly am that person. What if subconsciously I am aiming to do nothing at all. Just making excuses and masking sheer dullness with improbable dreams and ambitions as a way of feeding my inner self-absorption? And suppose I am a nobody, fated to do nothing remarkable at all?
Why then am I endlessly swimming against the current in a stream that clearly leads to nowhere significant?