This same time two years ago, I’d apparently contemplated on life on the moon.
I don’t always backtrack to read older entries, especially those that date way back to two, three years ago – they’ll soon be locked, because I shudder at how poorly written and/or intensely revealing they were – but the other day, for inexplicable reasons, this one caught my eye. The title struck a chord – it’s from David Cook‘s not-so-stellar song – and so, without much thought, I clicked it.
It’s funny how I’d mulled over the future – this present that is now – in the exact same tone as I do now, as I ponder over what lies further ahead; beyond Stanford and Stateside, home again. I guess some things really don’t change.
You know what’s funnier? Or perhaps the word is creepier – it’s Eldest Sis’ words:
What if you keep with the plan, do everything in your power to get back on that path … and then you finally, actually fulfill it. It happens exactly as you always wanted it …but then you realize it doesn’t make you any happier. It’s like you’ve won a battle, but you feel like you’ve lost. What then?
Her exact words; I remember them now, and I shudder to think she’s… right. I did, didn’t I? This present that is now, isn’t it the outcome of having stuck to all these plans?
Fast-forward to two years later, to this present that is now indeed, and that’s exactly what I’ve come to realize since relocating here. It’s a hard lesson to learn, what more accept. It’s not that I regret the present, nor do I wish I could take back my decision – there are more pros than cons, and I count my blessings everyday to remind myself how fortunate I am to be here – but everything’s so wildly different from the romanticized, idealistic notions I’d harbored for years.
“What’s the big deal?” You might ask. Build new memories, move along now.
What’s the big deal indeed; I don’t know, honestly. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal, when it shouldn’t. My mind reasons these things that my heart still can’t quite fathom, what more act upon. I don’t know how to be okay, if I don’t feel okay.
It shakes my equilibrium off-course; I can’t help it.
What if it’s like you’ve won a battle –
but feels like you’ve lost?