( By Heart
You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?)
Yes, I understand that every life must end, aw-huh,..
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, aw-huh,..
Oh I’m a lucky man, to count on both hands
the ones I love,..
Some folks just got one,
yeah, others, they got none,
The song is Just Breathe by my favorite band Pearl Jam. While watching a TV show once I heard this song for the first time, and I absolutely loved it. I still have this song in my phone, and the line from the song always touched a cord. Always.
After I heard the song I did the same, I counted the ones I love and care about. Counted the ones who I think love and care about me. And as ashamed as I am to admit it, I never count family. They are bound to love and care, they have always done so. So in conclusion I could never reach four fingers.
I cared about so many people, yet I never felt that the feeling is mutual.
I feel alone. In crowds. In the seclusion of home. I am not ashamed to admit it. Everyone feels the same, everyone is looking for something in their lives. So am I.
And now more than ever. When everything is golden and blissful, at those times the ephemeral feeling of accomplishment, the feeling of not being alone even for a small time lifts you up. When surrounded by people who laugh with you, eat with you. But when things turn sour, the people disappear with the wind.
When someone who I got really got attached to decided to walk out, I had to reevaluate my life. With the anger of feeling of being discarded as thrash, the mourning and the selfish sadist urge to hurt back, I realized that maybe I am doing things wrong.
Maybe I expect people to be like me. To live their lives by my ideals. To fill in the picture that I painted for my perfect life. And that, even for all my nice intentions, is really the most selfish I could be. And I never realized it.
I cannot even live up to my ideals, how could I expect others to do so? And how could I expect them to know answers to questions that I should know.
The only person who can help me is me. About time I realize this. Only I can decode my life. No one else can decide which master’s am I supposed to pursue, or how to manage the abrupt stress of college work.
I have a direction, and I intend to improve myself down the path just opened.
To the friend who decided to walk out, I want to stay angry. I want to hurt you, even for small measure of pleasure I could get. But I know it is not going to help me. Your decision to end things, so be it. No more heated words exchanged, no more shouting in front of others. And I hope that when you decide to talk again, I’ll have lower expectancy. And I’ll be better. And I hope the same be said for you too.
Thanks For Reading