Crap. Crap. Crap. I woke up this morning generally feeling a lot of crap.

The dilemma of choosing conventions (aka be a “responsible” person) or taking risk (and be “myself”) is the crux of the issue. It is strange how I have changed over the few years. How, I have learned, that I am not many things and I don’t subscribe to many beliefs people think they should have. I am a limited person with a limited mindset and limited range of feelings, passion and care. And gladly, quite gladly, I am one.

I am surrounded by many individuals who devoted their lives towards the clear devoted path. They face difficulties but they persevere – a trait I deeply respect. However, my heart is not at where I am. I am in a path I desperately wish to leave (and wish I have the courage to leave) yet a great many factors are forcing me to stay.

Be responsible. If other people can do it, so can you. It is experience. It’s normal to feel crap. It is life. Be patience. Think of your family. Think of what you are supposed to do. Think of the “right” things to do.

Yet my heart has never been clearer.

My perspective has grown to be very different from other people. Other people dream of stability, family, a journey. They wish to have a career. They define success by persevering in difficulties. Of doing what they are supposed to do. Of completing tasks they are given. Of being the best. Of being the top. Of being great.

I don’t care about all of that. Overtime, life’s definition has changed, to me, quite drastically. To the point that I am shocked of how unambitious I am. How ambition is now, part of my past. Everything that I dream of now are very important to me – to teach, to write and to communicate. For others in my life, such dreams seem to be dreams not worth living at all. People’s dreams, when unconventional, are often invalidated by others who don’t believe in them. Currently, I have no courage to face and pursue my dreams in fear of being invalidated. I chose the approved way of life, only to find myself not agreeing to it. 

Life is relative to me. So is death. Life is short. Death is the end. In that span of time, what would I like to do with myself? I don’t dream of starting a family. I don’t dream of finding romantic love. I wish to be content with myself, to be surrounded by my loved ones, my books and my writings. I wish to paint occasionally. I also wish to contribute to the society through the appreciation of diversity. To survive, I would need to earn some money. Hopefully, in that process of searching for meaning, I would be able to do just that.

The only reason life is worth living for is love. How I wish to live my life everyday in such a manner.

Yet, from where I stand now, my wishes seem impossible. I want it yet I am trapped by the walls of expectation.  

Maybe one day, I will find the courage. Maybe.  

Ending the post with a super old photo of the Three Chinguz - Fatma, Palah and Ruby!
Ending the post with a super old photo of the Three Chinguz – Fatma, Palah and Ruby!