Grab a picture of yourself back when you were five or ten years younger and stare at it real good.
Life is full of uncertainty. We start out as children, carefree, innocent, pure, unaware of the horrors and the hardships that we will be facing once we hit ‘life’. Having no sense of malice, saying whatever comes to mind, however weird or awkward it is.
We start out, as early as three years, with dreams.
“When I grow up, I wanna be…”
I wanted to be a paleontologist.
We start off with a clear-cut goal on our lives.
“I’m going to have a big house, and a family, and lots of cars!”
Now, we don’t know where we’re going, or what we’ll become. Taking a look at oneself, we see that the path we once thought we were destined to take is so far away from us. Not completely out of reach, though trying to reach it would be too tedious and burdensome. We reminisce of the events in our lives and try to pinpoint that thing that triggered to who we are now. We try to find out the series’ of mistakes that we’ve made, the efforts that we’ve done or failed to do, the people we’ve met and ignored, just to realize more about our self.
And you still wonder who the kid in the picture is.
You ask yourself, at which point in my life did I start to become this? What do others think of me? What am I doing now? When did I change from being regular to someone who mattered? When did I become a leader? When did I learn to follow? When have I cared what other people think? When did I start becoming grade conscious? When did I start becoming selfless (perhaps even too selfless)? Why I’ve been doing things I know I’d regret? Why I’ve taken up vices which I once found disgusting? Why do I hang out with the type of people I once hated? Why I’m wasting my time on things that I know I have no real future in? Why I’ve broken promises that I’ve made to myself?
Well, I’ve yet to answer these. Though I try to back-track certain aspects of my life, I can’t really say with certainty. Perhaps it is impossible to find that significant event that triggered everything. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t exist. Or maybe it’s because life, your life now, isn’t dictated by a single event, but by a succession of events, both successes and failures, by a succession of choices, both right ones and wrong ones.
If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine
If it had a home, would it be my eyes?
Would you believe me if I said I’m tired of this?
So here we go now, one more time
When will this end? It goes on and on
Over and over and over again
Keep spinning around, I know that it won’t stop
‘Til I step down from this for good
-Sick Cycle Carousel, Lifehouse