I’m not exactly sure how I ended up here. I had imagined my life to be different, to be elsewhere right now. But life has a way of surprising you with detours when you least expect them, and you find yourself living in a hostel in downtown Boston instead of somewhere in Southern California. I’ve been madly craving the west coast for a while now, but I can’t seem to get myself there. And now I’ve decided to go to grad school here in Boston. As if I needed any more reason to endure another New England winter. My life is in a total flux, and only I can save myself from whatever impending doom awaits me before the fall semester. I’ve got only one hope now. My writing. I’ve written a book, and I think it’s good. I just hope I can get some agents to bite, just one person to give me a chance. That’s all I need, I believe, to propel myself forward to the future my heart desires. It won’t be easy, and I never for one second thought it would be…okay, I did once. When I had faith.
When I had faith, I thought the world would fall at my feet. I must have been delusional or something. I was delusional. Illogical. Naïve. And with eyes so bright that I was too blind to see myself stumbling down a dark hole of stupidity and failure. That’s one of the main reasons why I gave up my faith. I believed too much. I had limitless faith that God would help me as long as I did my part. Wrong. There’s no one there to do the extra 50% to my 100%. I had to do it all. 150% and then some.
I can understand why people would cling to their faith, however. It’s scary to accept that there’s no one out there beyond the sky looking out for you. That you’re all alone and that your life is left to chaos. Sometimes even random events. Nothing is for sure. And the only eternity you experience is death. But I’m not afraid of death. I know I’m made up of the stuff of the stars; that I’m made up of this earth. When I die, I simply return to where I began. And that’s okay. All I can do now while I’m alive is make the best of this life by loving my family, friends, others, and myself. And making a lasting change that benefits society in some way. That’s the meaning I have in life. The meaning I make.
The road stretches before me, beckoning, asking, “Where will you go?” I answer, forefinger pointing toward the horizon, “To where beauty lives.”
How about you? Where will you go?