You ever want to ask someone a question but deep down don’t have the balls to really want to hear the answer? Sometimes when you’ve blown it as much as I have you begin to administer a fair amount of self-doubt. The self-depreciation comes later. The truth is, the one lesson I wish I could go back in time and teach my 20-year-old self is to not second guess yourself. Life is complicated on it’s own, there’s no reason to foster any ill-conceived notions of the past.
I feel at times life is about self explanation. What I mean when I say that is, we’re always constantly looking to validate the things we are doing or the people we’re seeing or the places were traveling etc. I don’t starve for validation but there’s something inherently fickle inside of us that yearns to be wanted. Craved to be loved. You reach a certain point in your life where you’ve lived enough happiness and suffered through enough anxieties and fucked up shit to learn the immensely valuable lesson on learning to appreciate the things you have. I’m not talking iPhones and flat screens I mean people. And experiences. And laughter. We spend an inordinate amount of time in our lives collecting things and collecting souvenirs and not nearly enough time exploring new ideas or admiring new places.
At some point, you grow tired of the constant need to validate. You grow tired to explain why you’re single or you grow tired of explaining why you hate your job. When did life become about a pay check? When did things boil down to my engagement photos (or lack there of) on Instagram? The truth is as we’ve become further and further connected by social media we’ve actually drifted farther and farther apart. We see each others lives not through stories told but through 10 second videos that disappear or the number of hearts attached to a photo. I’ve lost something in myself that has allowed me to give a fuck about what other people are doing. I don’t know why I feel this way and I wonder if maybe I’ve always felt this way or that it’s just a natural progression with age. Part of me wants the boyish ideals I held as a young man and part of me is utterly relived that with age has come an immaculate sense of self.
Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty to question yourself about on a daily basis. The increased number of gray hairs alone has given me momentary pause at least every morning of my 30th year on this planet. But the truth falls somewhere within the details. I’m sick and tired of worrying about what people think of me and sick and tired of being asked questions I no longer feel the need to answer or validate. At some point perhaps it’s time to reconnect yourself to your childhood and the thoughts and dreams you had. Perhaps there comes a time in your evolution as a human being where you get so connected to the people around you that you actually feel left utterly alone. All people come to and acknowledge little breaking points in their life and perhaps at 30.5 years old I’ve hit another one.
One secret I wish I told my younger self was to wake up every morning happy, and if you’re not figure out a way to do that. It seems as you get older you blink and a month has gone by, then 6 then 12 and all of sudden we’re in 2017 and I’m wondering where the fuck this year went. That’s how life is. It’s a flash. There’s a great quote by someone who says, “Your life is made of two dates and a dash, make the most of the dash.” And honestly it’s something I wish I came up with. You’re born, and you die, and somewhere in-between a lot of amazing and possibly not so great shit will happen to you. The sooner you can rectify the total and utter abruptness of our lives, the sooner you will start making the most of the dash you have.