The Corridors of Life

I wonder how many minutes of my life have been spent lying in my bed wishing for whatever pain I was feeling at the time to come to a quick close in space and time. I wonder how many breaths have been spent begging God to cease the unrelenting torment enwrapping my mind. I wonder how many thoughts have been used to speculate why things are the way they are, and why I do not receive the same kind of happiness like that of a joyous kid in a park in spring. I wonder how many times I have woken to feel an overbearing, overwhelming sadness weighing down on me as if there was an elephant sitting on my chest. It is as if there is some entity that gains its happiness by constantly raining down blows and kicks on me in hopes I will eventually give in, and this entity knows how close it has come to succeeding.

As I have traveled through life, I have encountered many doors but mostly long hallways. Whenever I would reach for the doorknob, turn it slowly, and step in, I would be met with bliss. This would soon end though, and I would be thrown from the room and against the walls of the hallway to only sink to the floor in greater despair than the last time. Each time I would be thrown a little harder, or maybe I was only getting weaker. In my head I know things will not always be this way. I know I will not spend the rest of my life like I have spent the last seven. This blanket of wounds, fear of future pain, and anguish of current pain is inescapable at times. It is a maze which there seems to be no end, and I have honestly forgotten the beginning. All of these doors I have entered and been thrown from simply blend together into a mosaic of my past with imagery that plagues my mind on some quiet nights. Life is like a stream with a constantly changing current. When I was born, I was laid down into this stream of life equipped with consciousness that would sometimes be my enemy in the future. I would float down stream with eyes closed when I was young, because I felt no need to look out for possible obstacles that could bruise me or a strong current that could drown me. After being assaulted by branches, beaten by rocks, and dragged under by the strength of the natural force of life, I quickly learned I should pay closer attention. With eyes wide open I am able to avoid some things. There are times when things are in my blind spot and lead to another wound on my tattered body. There are times when I rest my eyes for a moment but am simply pulled under the water by memories grasping me like a possessive vine. Wherever I float down stream, I carry with me these wounds, scrapes, and reminders. Whatever hallways I walk down and whatever doors I open, I carry with me the times I have been slammed against the bleak walls that hold nothing.

Although I have been caught by myself holding onto a stump near the stream, gasping for air, I have gained essential knowledge. With age I have learned. With hurt I have learned. With anger I have learned. With education I have learned. Unfortunately, wisdom comes from pain. Kindness comes from experiencing what it is like to carry an aching heart that you can feel from the top of your head to the bottom of your soles. A sense of humor comes from a desire to escape the hold of your mosaic past, haunting present and foggy future. I wonder how I will feel on my thirtieth birthday if I reach it. I wonder how it will feel to know I have not given up yet. Will I be proud of myself, or will I simply be coated in regret? I wonder if there will come a time when death scares me like spiders sauntering across the floor. Death is one of two things; it is either the abolishment of sensation or the beginning of an entirely new sensation in an afterlife. The former means no suffering. The latter means a new beginning and hopefully paradise of some sort. I wonder if I have done a good enough job escaping the grasp of the hands on my neck of the man that is fate. This man does not owe me a thing; he does not consider the good things I have done, the bad things I have done, the good things that have been done to me, or the bad things that have been done to me. His only goal is to bring unto me what has been weaved from the beginning of time. Therefore, I am not angry with this man. I both love him and loathe him, but I do trust him. I know I should only wish for things to go as they are meant to and not for how I want them to base on ill desires. In these past fleeting months, I have come to accept this man fully as my friend even if he sometimes brings death and despair right to my face in an attempt to stare me down and cause me to cave in. No, I will not let this man win. I am not competitive with much, but I will not let myself be on the losing team because of what is out of my control.

Despite how things are, you have to remind yourself you cannot do a single thing. Your goal in life is to be a good person and to fulfill your purpose that is a seed planted for you and only you. You cannot control the actions, feelings, or judgments and opinions of others. You can simply control most of your actions, all of your feelings, and all of your judgments and opinions. Pain comes from your perception of a situation. It is like standing in a blank room with two windows displaying very different things. The right window offers a familiar image: blackness. The left window offers something you are only acquainted with since birth: light. There is a catch though. The right window can be accepted with the flick of a switch in your mind. The left window takes effort, practice, and a willing to fail in not glimpsing through the right window from time to time. At some point, I became tired of this repeated route I have been going. There is no point of looking out the right window if I could switch to the left with some effort and dedication. You can judge the man that is fate, judge the corridors of your life, and judge the stream that is your life as good or bad when they are mostly out of your control. You can either allow yourself to form a belief that you are hurt, or you can gladly accept what has happened like you would accept the warm, emotional hug from a best friend. While floating downstream and walking down the corridor, I have met people who dislike me. I have met people who judge me before knowing me. I have met people who are simply evil. I do not let these people bother me. Their opinions and actions against me are their own problem. I will not be victim to the words of a man who is giving me a list of how I am a failure of a person. After all, this man did not include all of my flaws on this list. His list looks merely like a grocery list for a quick errand after a lonesome husband has forgotten a few ingredients for dinner while his wife is away. The real list that I have composed of myself looks like the grocery list of preparations for a Thanksgiving dinner in which the host is forced to provide many options because her family is hardly grateful and is picky. I am aware of my failures; I carry them on me like a heavy backpack filled with textbooks weighing down on my shoulders. I do not need this person with ill-intentions to cause me pain or anger for the things I am aware of. I do not need to let the loss of my best friend cause me anguish like something I thought was only a small prick but will probably need stitches. I do not need to let my parents’ problems cause me flashbacks like that of a soldier who has seen things never intended for human eyes. I do not need to let the lack of acceptance from my peers cause me to coward away in a dark corner in hopes it is safest in that spot. I do not need to allow any of these negative things take control over my heart and mind. Even though I have been thrown against walls, choked by fate, and have come close to drowning in my troubles, I am still me and I am in control. I am in control over my judgments of my fate like a sailor of a rusted ship, or the pilot of a bullet ridden fighter jet.

As I lie down in my sunken bed each night, I wonder if I can keep this up. I wonder if I can always face life with reasoning and acceptance. I wonder if I will be able to survive the grips of fate. I wonder how many beautiful moments in my life that will bring tears to my eyes that confuse others around me, because they do not understand how it is these moments that renew my draining hope. I wonder if I will soon find my purpose and understand why I am here breathing, thinking, existing. As I contemplate sleep each night, I allow myself to feel unfamiliar peace. I allow myself to shed the blanket of sadness that coats me often if only until morning. The anger of those around me, the tragedies that will attempt to impale me like a piece of limber, or the flicking of memories in my mind that has been dyed with my experiences are all things I can combat from staying in my mind like an unwelcome house guest who ruins everything and causes me to sigh in frustration. I am going to remain the captain of this rusted ship, even though I know I will occasionally run into debris. I know this ship will not sink like the Titanic, because I will do the best I can to make sure that never happens. I am going to remain the pilot in this fighter jet prepared to pass through the clouds and take on an array of armory instead of merely hitting the eject button as a last resort. I do not know what my foggy future holds, but I have faith in myself to remain and to accept whatever may come.