I woke up this morning, asking myself about what I know of the world. I answered it in a tired whisper that I know nothing about the world, honestly… and frustratingly. I pulled a Jon Snow earlier on my bed, lying down and thinking about it, and after a few moments of studying the notion and the GoT reference, I did not laugh because it wasn’t funny. Not at all.
I mean I have dreams and ideals, and I’ve always had something to say about the world. I am opinionated, quite critically — ranting and nitpicking are my pet peeves. I still remember the time I ranted about Miley Cyrus, you know when she was going through her dramatic transformation from her Hannah Montana days to the sledgehammer-licking-on-top-of-a-wrecking-ball stage. Recalling the whole speech I gave my uninterested friends that one night before our final exams just causes me to shake my head now. Wow! What a hater I have been all this time because lately I find myself liking Miley Cyrus instead.
But really, what do I know about the world? I have two eyes, two ears, but I can’t make the right words come out of my mouth, and I can’t see through things without the prejudice of face value. I can’t feel the truth by my hands alone; pain is needed. And I only smell disappointment from things I put so much expectations on, as if expectations are bottles of cologne I test when I am out buying one.
What do I know of the world? Because it looks like and I’ve been feeling it these days, loneliness is teaching me life is unfair.
I tell myself every single day that I am alright but you know what? I am not okay. My back aches but I am okay with that. My head aches but I am okay with that. Every single day I endure these aches because I must carry on with my life. I have a day job that pays the bills. I get tired but I am totally okay with that.
But I am not okay with my fear that I will end up just being okay in life.
It brings me to tears to imagine what my life would be like two months from now, a year or a decade. It brings me to tears because I don’t know what the world means to me. I don’t know, and it scares me because I can’t just go to sleep tonight with the question hanging like a dark cloud over me. Worse, what if the question goes with me even in sleep?
I want to sleep tonight and ask myself what I know about the world. I want to answer even in a tired whisper that I know something, however small and irrelevant it may be. I want to know something about the world and I want to laugh.
I am more than okay with that!