I sometimes think my life lacks purpose, scratch that, this thought frequents my mind more than sometimes. This thought makes me; I am it. That would be a better description of my mind. I made this blog in 2009, by the name of Random Thoughts. I was more of myself back then. My thoughts were random yes, but they were mine. I was willing to express myself. I was not afraid to be me. To be who I was. What I was essentially made of. I shared my thoughts without inhibition. And I was fine. I was a happy person back then. Not afraid of being perceived as an idiot who didn’t know/cared much about the “popular” opinion.
It’s been six years since I wrote my first post on this blog. But I didn’t know what to do with a blog then, I was just happy to have found an outlet. I still don’t know what to do with it today. But I write more reluctantly, my thoughts are more random, my crises more severe. My life seems purposeless to me because of the high standards I set for myself initially. When I always knew in the heart of my hearts, I wasn’t cut out to become the person I always wanted to be.
I’ve been looking in the wrong direction all my life and now I feel lost. I don’t feel I can go back and to go further in the same direction would devastate me even more. What to do then? Just let it be. Stay where I am and expect it all to get better miraculously. I have ample reason to believe that this crises of mine will become severe with age. And as I heard somewhere, a crises at 55 is much worse than a crises at 35.
I changed the name of this blog because I wanted to be absolutely invisible. I wanted to become invisible on Google. I wanted to delete the memory of ‘random thoughts’ from my mind. But I guess in this day and age, there is no escape from who you are or who you have become. Does that mean then, that you cannot start afresh? That you keep going ahead in the same direction and forget about where you’d want to go instead? Does that mean you’re stuck where you are and there is no hope left for you?
These are my random thoughts. And they will continue. With a new name.
Past is called the past for a reason. It signifies something that we have experienced but notice the emphasis on “experienced”. Meaning, it is never going to be repeated again; under any circumstances. Now man is a curious animal. For the first twenty-five odd years of his life, he spends his life anticipating “the future” and when that future is reached (not necessarily achieved) he feels lost. We don’t know what to do when we reach that crucial point in life, called the middle age, arguably the most controversial of all stage of life. Where our past is gone, finished, done with; and our future, the one that glares brightly in our face, is the future we never anticipated! Let’s face it. We never thought we’d get old, dependent or grey; it was not what we signed up for. We thought we’d stay forever young, forever capable, and forever beautiful. And then suddenly life meets us at this unimaginably ugly little place, called the middle age. It’s the point where our past is still so fresh in our minds that we want to run towards it, hoping to catch it somehow, to bring it back. We don’t want to our youth to abandon us. We struggle to say goodbye to our beauty. But the more we try to resist the more we move away from the remnants of what we once were. We become jealous, fiercely so; even bitter. We feel wronged by Mother Nature herself, when she always showed us all the signs. We saw our parents growing old in front of us and our grandparents die. One by one. But we never thought we’d get old as well.
But it is our choice. It is our choice to remain bitter or to make something out of the inevitable self that WILL meet us sometime in future, to meet it in grace. And no, it is not as easy as those self-help books sometimes suggest. It is a constant struggle everyday, every minute, every second. It is keeping the guards up against all the negativity that will confront us. It is to turn it away, it is to rise and shine. It is to embrace who I am, and embrace the fact that I am growing older. To stop reminiscing about what’s gone and to start anticipating the future.
Always. Anticipating the future.