07/19
I turned 25 today.
Apart from my parents, I can count on one hand how many people remembered that today was a significant day for me. I was sad, sure. But in a different corner of my brain, my logical being scoffs at this melancholy puddle of a person.
Who are you? Nobody’s obligated to retain vague memories of dates and times not significant to them — in an age where almost everybody is just doing the best they can to survive, you are the least of their concerns.
Quit thinking and acting like a child.
Realizing and accepting the fact that I am indeed just a nobody is a key thing I learned trudging through a quarter of the century. I’m not some chosen one spawned by Greek tragedies to go to hell and back because I was destined for great things or because I said so in my other writing.
I am a mere pedestrian in this endless walkway of life. I don’t have a name to most people. I don’t ever come into the spotlight. Nor do I ever need it. Had life been a drama with everyone on Earth as cast members, I probably fought really, really hard to just have gotten a mediocre part. I am one of billions, doing my infinitesimal part in churning the world machine — an intricate machine made up of ill-defined notions and productivity and accomplishments, one that is heading to oblivion some centuries down the line.
It should be evident now that I am depressed.
Since losing my two grandparents, I have struggled to see a point in anything. I had never expected something like this to happen to me. Since then, I have been crying almost every day. Every happy day I thought I had would inexplicably end in tears. The guilt and sadness gutted my heart empty. I knew everything that happened was in the cards the moment I decided to move abroad for college, but why is it brutal like this? How is it going to get better? How can I stop feeling like this?
Now, I’m floating around in the world that’s not mine, a lone ship wanting to depart but having nowhere to go. Or rather, a beast longing for freedom but has no idea what freedom is. I can only scream into the void deep beneath my heart, placating myself with my own echo. Everyday feels like a solo expedition to the windy streets to make company of yesterday’s shadows. I am shivering in the rain just to feel I may still have something to live for. I’m getting used to this routine.
Normal aging aside, whatever I am today, all of it was a sacrifice of precious times. Hours I could’ve spent snuggling close to Wai Po next to the portable heater. Moments I could’ve spent yelling into Ye Ye’s ears and seeing him laughing at his own toothless self in the mirror. Days I could’ve spent holding my parents when they lost their parents. Years I could’ve spent cherishing the memories I would now never gain or get back.
Enveloped by a falsely victimized dark cloud that felt so real, a relentless, resilient, and strong me would catch a glimpse of how apart I have fallen. She tries to talk sense into my misery.
Don’t even think about your future if you don’t change now. It’s a scary thing to be used to feeling like this all the time. Wouldn’t it be nice to try to write about happy things every once in a while? Life is just full of regrets, helplessness, and promises you can’t keep as hard as you try anyway.
Oh, I understand that. I fully do.
Sometimes I wish I could hide from myself so I can have some happy days. But alas, the happy days are so short. I can’t help but pick up the sadness in this world. Even when I close my eyes, I can see the sadness in the corner of my void, waiting for something to feed, or something to resolve itself. I want to run away from that sadness, but it follows like my shadow. It trips me up and I am on my knees. I want to stay still and heal, but it keeps dragging me forward, my knees bloodied and my spirit confused.
You don’t have a right to be knocked down and lay low.
An ominous voice. There is no explanation, no justification, just a constant, involuntary motion forward. I don’t want a war with that sadness, because I fear I will lose and fall even deeper. Who is left to dissect my misery other than myself? So, I close my eyes and let it take me through thorns. I relinquish control.
There was a scene in Kung Fu Panda 3 that I enjoyed rewatching often. Po was close to having his Chi taken in the spirit realm by Kai. He closed his eyes awaiting the finality of this battle, but his family in the Earth realm — the panda villagers and Tigress, held out their hands in an almost hopeless optimism to mobilize their own Chi so Po could stand a chance. Sure enough, little bouts of Chi imprinted on Po’s almost jade-ified body. Boosted by everybody’s unconditional support and love, Po not only broke free of Kai’s shackles, but also gained true mastery of Chi.
In the past year, I’ve felt like a completely jade-ified embellishment hanging around the sadness’s neck, devoid of spirit, autonomy, or hope. I am out of Chi. My life has barely started, but I’m already thinking of the absurdity of its ending.
But just like Po, funny enough, my own panda villagers and tigress show up like never before. There is no judgment, only unconditional love and genuine concern. Their bright smiles remind me of reasons why I should keep steady. They hold out their own hearts in desperation and say,
It’s not over. We’re hurting too, but your existence in our worlds helps us keep going. We only hope you can see that too.
It took a while, but the sadness finally stops and looks back.
It has my face.
I feel little imprints of hope in my heart, heat incrementally melting the built-up ice. The sadness lets go, walks to the corner of the void, lays down, and falls asleep. I try to stand up, but my knees are so shot that I fall back down. Before my knees take another blow on the concrete, I am held up and supported to stand again. I feel like a baby taking its first steps, but I finally look up and forward at what’s to come. It’s a long, winding runway ahead.
I look around and see the arms holding me up. The people holding me up, frail themselves after weathering storms in their own lives but still steadily beaming strength, are smiling at me.
For the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to this world, and where this runway leads. Maybe my 25 years on Earth lead up to this point. I am eventually exhausted, scarred, scared, helpless, weighed down by invisible shackles, but I decide to walk forward anyway with arms of love holding me up. And one day I may get to run.
