Perhaps.
“To live”—this is mainly the answer to most of my quarter
life and existential problems. A very wise quote from Natalie Babbitt’s book Tuck Everlasting goes like this: “Don't
be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life. You don't have to live
forever, you just have to live.”
The perpetually baffled cynical
skeptic that lives inside me asks: “But how?”
I know, I know; it is a scary
question only I can answer. It’s scarier because whereas there’s probably only
an average of four possible answers in a multiple choice question, the answer
in living can sometimes be none of the above. One YouTuber by the name of danisnotonfire once mentioned in his
video that there’s this fear in freedom. Because unlike a board game where the
finite options are literally set in front of you, there’s an endless list of
roads for you to take in life. And the fact that there are many is frightening.
Most philosophical views say that
the world doesn’t give a penny about us, that time won’t stop and death won’t
wait patiently for us mortals—that they
don’t care. The only problem with this is that we care. And I personally care too much.
There’s an understandable pressure
to living your life to the fullest, to pursue happiness and self-actualization,
and basically not lead an “unlived life.” Yes, the world doesn’t care about us;
and yes, we just have to just keep swimming. But even though the answer is
within me, as a life guru would say, I still throw in questions like “But what
if I care about the world?” or “But what if I can’t swim?”
The truth of the matter is I could live an unlived life; we all
could. I perchance might pick the wrong letter or trek the wrong road, get
desperately lost, and be stuck in my own labyrinth forever. They say “forever”
exists in love but I think “forever” exists in my existential crisis.
As long as I live, until I find
contentment (a sound if I find
contentment), I might always—chronic overthinker that I am—look up at the
ceiling late at night and ponder on my life choices, driven by the dream I long
to grasp and nibbled by my inhibitions. I shall keep swimming, but where I go—
I
seriously, for the life of me, do not know.
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