What was I made for /S2

My dad told me recently that whenever in the past he has been asked about me and my future, he has answered that there’s three options: I’d become a president, an astronaut or a terrorist.

Surprisingly all those paths have something very much in common: expectations. In good or in bad; I’m to be remembered. You know what I said?

“Ah, how sweet – and now I sit on the porch and grow beans as if I had done all that already.”

2022 Autumn

I lost my appetite for success.

I had done enough of unappreciated running around, I had hated enough Mondays, I had had enough Teams-calls that could have been emails, I had enough. None of the glories of the modern world could have ever made me feel that the hustle was worth it. That giving 5 days out of 7 to gain a 21-day-vacation in 365 days was ever going to pay off. That exchanging the time of my 20’s to become someone in my 30’s was the goal. That somewhere in the future, when I’d fulfill the prophecy – I’d become important, successful, appreciated and maybe someday, happy. 

Of course, the moment I let go of the expectations towards myself, I gained everything I had ever wanted. Suddenly I was enough and I had enough. I had not found happiness, I had become the happiness itself. Not in the way of ever-lasting-good-vibes-only but through the beauty of ever lurking death.

Somewhere in the paradoxes of life, feeling of being alone in the darkest moment but still not lonely, knowing that the sun that sets might never rise again, realizing that the best days are never behind, laughing in memory of the lost loved ones, saying the most memorable things as one’s about to get hanged – that kind of happiness. 

I’m glad to be here and I’m glad that someday it ends.

xx