Find Me Before Someone Else Does
Rainy days make you ponder. And search about life's meanings. They make you question everything. Not God, no. God's existence, for those who believe in God religiously, is unquestionable because God has God's own purpose and God's entire existence cannot be doubted.
But what about humans? The individuals? The people you see everyday. The people that walk past by you when you are purchasing an ice cold orange juice when it's hot outside. Or the people that sit next to your table when you are sipping your hot chocolate. What are they purpose in this life? Or at least, in yours?
I think the melancholy of the modern world, the world that is built upon two world wars and political conspiracies, is that our own brooding of our existence and to some extent, identity. We are grown by the world that no longer has the threats of the survival of the citizens, because this world no longer recognizes the pain of being scared of what tomorrow brings.
But this world, we, as the future leaders of our own generations, are grown by the world where they ask your own true identity and contribution in this world. We even question ourselves, are we truly living or merely existing?
We seem to be more critical, but even more confused than the generations that precede us. We question almost everything, but never really search the answers. We question our own existence, but never search for ourselves. We are the lost generations. Because it seems that no one can answer any of our questions. We are just floating here, hoping the stream will take us somewhere, anywhere. The shelters we have are in the form of false Gods, temporarily assuring us that we are meant to be like that. But some people know better, some people tend to be better in that sense, some people try to be better but failed. We are doing this because we need something to identify us, to make each of us different from the other seven billion human entities in this planet. We are doing this because we are lost.
We don't want to be boxed either. We do not want to name ourselves as 'the middle children' or even 'the lost children' or perhaps, my favorite, 'the children who fills the in-between'. We want someone to remember us the reason why we exist, why we bother living in this world at all. Why we wake up every morning doing the same routine over and over again. The same, dull, boring and restless routine. And why we are doing what our precede generations are doing. School, college, work, retirement, school, college, work, retirement, school, college, work...
Some of us try to be different and succeeded. They are now being called as the idols. As the rescuers of our void-fill hearts. They are our gurus, the musicians and the singers. The writers and the actors. The designers and the hermits. The travelers and the storytellers. These are the people we run into. The people that make a simple difference. The people that can be differed from any other normal people. These people have found their own twinkles. Something inside of them that makes them different and they project them to the world. Their self-actualizations.
We love to hear the tales of the storytellers. They have been everywhere. They have finally found their homes. While the rest of us, we have this, incurable until further notice, homesickness and longing for a world and a place that we have never been, or for places that we are longing to come back to. A place that make, at least, our hearts at ease. A place where we truly belong. Our own personal niches.
But I think, there is a good thing in being lost. We can be found. Maybe not the whole self identity, but at least, by someone who cares. Someone who understands, or perhaps has lived through, the pain of being lost once. We can both be lost and found at the same time, because we are lost in the feeling of being found and understood by someone. The same other entities that have their own needs to be founded or to be cured from their voids.
Our melancholy is this void in our heart. And we cannot fill them until we know what can. But before that can be done, here is the things you can do to at least temporarily fill them: get utterly lost in cities you've never been to, make friends out of strangers in the streets, make cupcakes, make chocolate, drink hot chocolate, write something (anything) in your book, read a book (preferably those that are easy to enjoy), cry yourself to sleep, make a project with some friends, eat food you've never tasted before, draw a painting of some wild flowers, make a road trip. Find someone that accepts you completely, flaws and all, because someday, only this someone that will remember you for you and this someone will get lost with you. So, what about you, sir? Do you want to get lost with me?
But what about humans? The individuals? The people you see everyday. The people that walk past by you when you are purchasing an ice cold orange juice when it's hot outside. Or the people that sit next to your table when you are sipping your hot chocolate. What are they purpose in this life? Or at least, in yours?
I think the melancholy of the modern world, the world that is built upon two world wars and political conspiracies, is that our own brooding of our existence and to some extent, identity. We are grown by the world that no longer has the threats of the survival of the citizens, because this world no longer recognizes the pain of being scared of what tomorrow brings.
But this world, we, as the future leaders of our own generations, are grown by the world where they ask your own true identity and contribution in this world. We even question ourselves, are we truly living or merely existing?
We seem to be more critical, but even more confused than the generations that precede us. We question almost everything, but never really search the answers. We question our own existence, but never search for ourselves. We are the lost generations. Because it seems that no one can answer any of our questions. We are just floating here, hoping the stream will take us somewhere, anywhere. The shelters we have are in the form of false Gods, temporarily assuring us that we are meant to be like that. But some people know better, some people tend to be better in that sense, some people try to be better but failed. We are doing this because we need something to identify us, to make each of us different from the other seven billion human entities in this planet. We are doing this because we are lost.
We don't want to be boxed either. We do not want to name ourselves as 'the middle children' or even 'the lost children' or perhaps, my favorite, 'the children who fills the in-between'. We want someone to remember us the reason why we exist, why we bother living in this world at all. Why we wake up every morning doing the same routine over and over again. The same, dull, boring and restless routine. And why we are doing what our precede generations are doing. School, college, work, retirement, school, college, work, retirement, school, college, work...
Some of us try to be different and succeeded. They are now being called as the idols. As the rescuers of our void-fill hearts. They are our gurus, the musicians and the singers. The writers and the actors. The designers and the hermits. The travelers and the storytellers. These are the people we run into. The people that make a simple difference. The people that can be differed from any other normal people. These people have found their own twinkles. Something inside of them that makes them different and they project them to the world. Their self-actualizations.
We love to hear the tales of the storytellers. They have been everywhere. They have finally found their homes. While the rest of us, we have this, incurable until further notice, homesickness and longing for a world and a place that we have never been, or for places that we are longing to come back to. A place that make, at least, our hearts at ease. A place where we truly belong. Our own personal niches.
But I think, there is a good thing in being lost. We can be found. Maybe not the whole self identity, but at least, by someone who cares. Someone who understands, or perhaps has lived through, the pain of being lost once. We can both be lost and found at the same time, because we are lost in the feeling of being found and understood by someone. The same other entities that have their own needs to be founded or to be cured from their voids.
Our melancholy is this void in our heart. And we cannot fill them until we know what can. But before that can be done, here is the things you can do to at least temporarily fill them: get utterly lost in cities you've never been to, make friends out of strangers in the streets, make cupcakes, make chocolate, drink hot chocolate, write something (anything) in your book, read a book (preferably those that are easy to enjoy), cry yourself to sleep, make a project with some friends, eat food you've never tasted before, draw a painting of some wild flowers, make a road trip. Find someone that accepts you completely, flaws and all, because someday, only this someone that will remember you for you and this someone will get lost with you. So, what about you, sir? Do you want to get lost with me?