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What You Wish For
I’ve no desire to lecture. No energy to protest. I’m neither celebrating, nor crying. Apathy has allowed me a certain serenity, and clarity, and with this I give a warning, that is preempted by the election, but really has nothing to do with this election at all.
“I can’t wait till the next four years are over,” is something I’ve heard over and over.
I believe, at this point, our country is closer to the end than it is the beginning. The Earth is heating up, and despite our efforts to speed it up or slow it down, eventually, the surface will burn up, leaving no trace of us, just violent dust storms akin to our sister planet, Venus. I am 27, which means, every day, I am one day closer to my death. I am also manic-depressive, and I have, and will again, spend time at the bottom of the well of a suicidal depression. Perhaps knowing there is no afterlife is the chief reason I’m still here. This is all we get. This is our time, and it’s ending, one minute, hour, and day at a time. Soon enough, I will be dust, and none of this will matter to me when I am dead, because I will be dead (non fui, fui, non sum, non curo). This is a grim reality, in which, I’ve found a certain comfort and hope. Despite being often terrible, the world is utterly ridiculous, and I cannot help but laugh at it. I cannot help but laugh because it’s so goddamn absurd. Laughter derives from a flame inside me, and I’ve found, being around certain people causes this light to grow, and I quite enjoy my finite time in this world.
No one actually wishes four years away (unless, maybe, they’re in jail). But I am guilty when it comes to wishing life away. In high school, I couldn’t wait for it to be over and go to college. In college, I started stand-up, and couldn’t wait for college to be over so I could just work and do comedy. When I graduated college, I just wanted to be five years into comedy so I wouldn’t be so green. And so on and so on. I have perpetually wished away portions of my life, and guess what? They pass. And when this happens you’re left with memories of a projection of yourself living, but not your actual self, if you have any memory at all. Anxiety and fear thrive in this psyche. Time, tick-tick, creeps away, and you can never get it back. Time is the more valuable than money. Don’t wish it away. Hope for the best with the things you cannot control. And strive, strive, and find a way to succeed in enjoying the present, because so little of what we fret over actually matters.
Take it from me, when anger and fear rule your world, you will miss the beauty. There is so much beauty. Don’t miss it.
Mild form?