Ambiguity
Life is so interesting. And I say this without having a clue what I’m doing. But still. Some moments, you can feel inspired and hopeful and life can feel meaningful and purposeful. And seconds later, one loud conversation can send you spiraling downhill into a state that you’re not sure you’ll ever recover from. The future is uncertain. After rereading, it is obvious to anyone that this flow persay was created due to a negative occurance. And yes. Yes it was. But the actual situation is not important. There’s a million words in the English language (not to mention the other 6,000 languages that exist), and millions of combinations that could’ve created this feeling, this movement in my heart and mind. And therefore, the situation is not important. What is? I have no idea. Besides, the future is uncertain. Always has been, and always will be. Trying to plan, and calculate, and fit it’s ambiguity into a box is pointless and a waste of effort. Even as I type this, the words come to mind moments before I write them. I don’t know where they come from, but they flow and fill up my thoughts. And that’s another thing. Your mind can think about a million different things in one moment, without you even having a conscious thought about it. I feel that the human mind is something that science will never be able to fully explain. Oh, this is all rather vague, isn’t it? But even just that! That sentence. Think about it. “Vague”. Not one person on this Earth is vague. Ambiguous. Not one. They all have their own stories, their own struggles, their own interactions and interpretations. Uniqueness. It’s scary, but rather beautiful, don’t you think? Oh, who am I kidding. I dont even know who “you” is. Well, mystery person, whoever you may be, how are you? How have you been? I can’t reply, seeing as I am now in the past and you are living in a time separate to mine, but I care nonetheless. Is your family doing well? How about your friends? Do you have friends? What about age? Are you young, old, somewhere in the relative between. Somehow, out of all the things the world wants to change, time remains stubbornly the same. I just find that fascinating. What am I referring to, when speaking of change? I will leave it to you to figure out, if you haven’t already guessed, that is. Some things are better left unsaid. Maybe because you’ll hurt someone, or something, or yourself. Maybe just because there are better things to say. That being said, I think everyone deserves a chance to be heard. Life is subjectively unfair though, so I don’t see equal freedom of speech being a world wide concept just yet. But who am I kidding, that’s the realist side of my brain speaking. Since when did realism change the course of humanity? Perhaps somedays I am jealous of realists. Being optimistic is rare these days, what with everything that everyone is going through. Even the wealthy are being persecuted for having good lives. Is it so wrong to want to live happy? To be happy? People get so jealous and bent out of shape around those who overshadow them. They don’t see the opportunities to become great themselves that are right in front of them. Happiness is also subjective. Heck, everything is subjective. It all exists differently in our minds. There’s not even proof that we see colors the same way. Maybe, in reality, we all like the same things, but our minds are preventing us from seeing it. And maybe that is a good thing. Maybe us being different and difficult and unique is the best thing that ever happened. People may strive for the cookie cutter lives and strive for that unreachable sense of perfection, but at the end of the day, we’re all human. No one has made it out of this place alive. But I don’t see that as a cage. Rather, I see it as an opportunity, just like the ones I spoke of earlier. An opportunity to get to know those around us. To live. To experience other’s results of being unique. There are so many things that wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for our ancestors testing their limits and finding the unique. Straying from the safe ambiguity of being unborn. Wanting to find “the more” in their own lives. Please, what am I saying. I act inspired, but in reality I’m really just trying to make sense of it all. Well, perhaps not it all. Maybe just a small part. A part small enough to help me feel stable and grounded. I guess this is what some people call an existential crisis. But I strangely don’t feel meaningless. This has just made me realize how meaningful life is. There are no promises in tomorrow, except for the promise of the ambiguity of it. Of the unknown. That will always be promised. Am I grateful? Perhaps. Only the future knows.
Author Notes: This is a rather general flow of thought, the goal when I wrote this was to write a passage that could apply to millions of different situations all around the globe. It's quite cheesy, and confusing at times (probably due to the fact that it was written in the middle of the night) (as all good crises are) but I believe some parts of it are worth reading. Like previously mentioned, this is one of my more collected flows of thought called "Ambiguity". Name attributed, of course, to its overarching theme.
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