Life is not simple. Although, I think sometimes we like to
play stupid and pretend that life isn’t really that intricate; one pride that’s
hard to swallow is admitting we are deathly afraid of trying to comprehend all
the moments we could live—if we pursued that passion, booked that flight, asked
out that compelling stranger. More so, trying to comprehend the moments we could have lived. Opportunities long
gone, moments that only exist in a medium we’re not sure exists—a parallel
universe? Or perhaps, it is all literally in our heads. Perhaps our brain is so
smart it’s cruel, and the moments we live are meant to be, the moment they
happen. Sometimes the thought of such simplicity scares us, however, because simple
has been caught hanging out with boring, and boring cannot kindle any fire hot
enough to keep the human engine going. So we reverse the lens in attempt to
stay focused. But there is no reversing in life; you can backpedal countless
rotations but onward the machine goes, as it was designed. This leaves us right
where we were before, but this time we can’t play stupid. So, we downplay the
formidableness that lurks around the corners of our actions, even a single
thought. Maybe if we push the severity of our choices into one of those
squiggly crevices in our brain, we can convince ourselves through a self-made façade
that we’re really not missing out. Taking a risk is too much of a risk. Is
there really that much to see? I don’t know what I don’t know… But being aware
of that makes me want to know. What lies beyond the vista of my comfort? I
suppose I will never know until I know, one moment at a time—and that’s life.
Maybe life really is that simple.
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