This is probably not the best way to start BEDA for this stage but I believe in writing to clear my head.
I AM NOT HAPPY.
My family rolls their eyes against this statement. My friends tilt their heads and offer a comforting hand.
Unhappiness comes for different reasons, some of which seemingly take priority over others, to the people who think so, that is. Myself? Unhappiness is a bane, no questions asked – it’s like a rash, it may or may not hurt, but it’s there. It’s there in front of your eyes, triggering the itch at the back of your head.
People get unhappy over things like the lack of money, they hate their jobs, they feel stuck in a rut, family obligations, bad relationships, I could go on forever.
I would guess that my unhappiness derives from the feeling of no direction.
Not that I have no direction, but I guess the environment has decided to dictate that I should not have one. My goals have not changed, it’s only that they seem further away with each passing day going through the great machine of reality.
Note that I say not “life”, but “reality”.
These lines will probably be very familiar:
“When you’re in school, you had time, the drive, but no money.
When you’re at work, you still had the drive, now the money, but no time.
When you’re retired, you gained your time, might still have the money, but tire from your drive.”
But if I must be frank, I seem to be losing the drive. And I am not happy.
Perhaps you can say that I can always do my writing on the side now that I have a stable income with stable hours, but the truth remains that writing fiction will always take the back seat in my reality. Most people where I come from will go, “Yeah, art/ passion/ fiction will not feed you, what can you do? No choice what.”
I hate those two words. It’s like some kind of patented excuse to stop people from doing things you wished you could but ended up not. Have you ever heard these lines?:
“We’re not rich, you can’t pursue your passions if they don’t bring money. No choice, you must work even though you’re not happy.”
“You’re not happy with everything! What’s going to make you happy?! You have shelter, you have money, you have savings, what is there not to be happy about?!”
I don’t know much about you, but “no choice” often serves as a reflex action when things like “money” is on the stake. Happiness is not purely money. I don’t believe in dreading waking up every working day just because you want that damn bag.
At the end of it all, my unhappiness is my own – if I could get the guts (emotional/ psychological), I might not have this problem. Then again, there’s no point dwelling in the past – though you could try telling that to every single person who has told me, “You should have thought about this before <insert whatever stage of your life here>…” – so I guess what I’m trying to say is this: Let me have at it.
Life. You may all claim that my Life has not even “started” yet, but how can it start when what I have is but a template you just want me to fit?
How do you do it? Just keep telling yourself “No choice”? You can. I can’t. I hear the words “No Choice” and I want to smash the back of my own skull in with those bamboo poles outside our house.
So yes, I have said my piece (or at least, part of it). My next hope is to blaze and breeze through this smoke. The torch is in my hand, all I probably need is hope.