...Childhood
Childhood granted us the glory of innocence, wherein we were temporarily freed from the complicated nature of life. I want to go back on those days where everything was as simple as waking up early in the morning to go to school – where the world simply defined by the colorful murals, messy artworks and bullying classmates. By then, quarrel was easily appeased by “sorry”, wounds were magically healed by a mother’s kiss, and friendship was easily earned by sharing toys and candies. We always found an easy way out from our troubles, it was either we discovered it ourselves or our parents showed us the way. Yes, that was another wondrous thing, elders always got the solutions to our problems – but not until we started to grow beard on our face or developed curve on our body. When I was a child, I was quite aware that growing up would steal from me my “happiness stuffs” – summer vacation, playtime on the street, my elementary buddies, my mother’s pampering, toys and a wealth of other child things. Though I knew it would be for certain, I still looked forward to grow up nonetheless.
Childhood granted us the glory of innocence, wherein we were temporarily freed from the complicated nature of life. I want to go back on those days where everything was as simple as waking up early in the morning to go to school – where the world simply defined by the colorful murals, messy artworks and bullying classmates. By then, quarrel was easily appeased by “sorry”, wounds were magically healed by a mother’s kiss, and friendship was easily earned by sharing toys and candies. We always found an easy way out from our troubles, it was either we discovered it ourselves or our parents showed us the way. Yes, that was another wondrous thing, elders always got the solutions to our problems – but not until we started to grow beard on our face or developed curve on our body. When I was a child, I was quite aware that growing up would steal from me my “happiness stuffs” – summer vacation, playtime on the street, my elementary buddies, my mother’s pampering, toys and a wealth of other child things. Though I knew it would be for certain, I still looked forward to grow up nonetheless.
…Teenage years
High school years made me a bit less of a grade-conscious person I used to be in elementary. As long as I was in the cream of the crop section, I was all good. All that mattered to me was to be among the studious, intelligent and outstanding flock of sheep. For all I knew then, knowledge was strong and powerful enough that conquering the world was nothing but an easy thing. Adolescence times were real difficult and complicated but your parents were there to tighten the reign at times you were passing beyond the limit. Early teenage bore into us lot of pains and confusions but it did let a few rays of wisdom to dawn. Those were the days where life got its new meaning – dream, believe and love. We had finally outgrown the fairy tales but still believed that it could happen. Well, in some wisps of events, some fairy tale really did happen and it made life more magical than ever. I was ambitious then about my future career and was hopeful about finding my perfect true love. When you were young, dreaming and believing were nothing but a piece of cake.
Not until you reached college that the truth of life started to show its real form. Everything was a lie – the world was neither those vibrant murals nor those grand castles with beautiful gardens. The world was no less than a stage that transformed itself from time to time – a home, a school, a field, a park, but often a battleground. But it was always a stage with lots of actors coming in and out, with lights dancing and fading out, with scripted lines and adlib parts and yourself playing various roles at different times. The life is a stage where only the strongest and the weakest were befitted to survive. It made me tougher though by believing that I was strong and willful enough to surpass any challenges. I got the power of mind, the might of intentions that would lead me to success. Life’s full of obstacles and I believed then that fighting was my only way.
…Early Adulthood
Finally when the real world opened its gate for me, I had regained my hopes. Dreaming and believing did give you success after all – not till it come to your senses that success wasn’t all about having your dream job, earning bigger paycheck and being able to do all that you wanted to do. Life was still a stage for me, but a stage within a large battle arena. At first, I submerged onto it. The battle wasn’t always a healthy and honest fight but often a treacherous and savage one. Loyalty has never been well paid off and trust has always been a risk to your life. I drank the blood of life and it wasn’t the like of candies that children loved or the tastes of chocolates that teens fancied. Life is tasted like a bittersweet wine that glistened and sparkled so I never just sipped but chugged it down. I got myself drunk until I couldn’t bear a single drop of it any more. I have been honest with life but it has never been fair. I started to feel remorse about the fact of it. I disdained the dirty game of success and I no longer wanted any part of it. My dreams lose its meaning and my appetite for success weakened. My passions remained but not so strong enough now to drive me again to live my dreams. Life is uncertain and I hated every bit of it. At the age of 25, I found myself in the state of dying, no not my mortal body but my soul. I might be buried at the age of 85 but I was long dead then at 25 when I first stopped living and just spent my life existing in this world they called Earth.
…dying at 25
I’m dying now at 25 and the only best part about it is I’m quite aware of the truth. You know what is the hardest part for a man? It’s when he needs to make a decision and lots of options are laid before his eyes – it makes him deal with complicated choices. But a sick man on his deathbed only got two options left – let go or hold on. There’s no guarantee of both the choices because it’s either he’s meant to fight and survive or his time has really come. Growing up, dreaming and fighting my way to success aren’t all that enough to keep me alive, I’m dying at 25 and like that sick man on his deathbed, I only got to choices with me to decide.
…Early Adulthood
Finally when the real world opened its gate for me, I had regained my hopes. Dreaming and believing did give you success after all – not till it come to your senses that success wasn’t all about having your dream job, earning bigger paycheck and being able to do all that you wanted to do. Life was still a stage for me, but a stage within a large battle arena. At first, I submerged onto it. The battle wasn’t always a healthy and honest fight but often a treacherous and savage one. Loyalty has never been well paid off and trust has always been a risk to your life. I drank the blood of life and it wasn’t the like of candies that children loved or the tastes of chocolates that teens fancied. Life is tasted like a bittersweet wine that glistened and sparkled so I never just sipped but chugged it down. I got myself drunk until I couldn’t bear a single drop of it any more. I have been honest with life but it has never been fair. I started to feel remorse about the fact of it. I disdained the dirty game of success and I no longer wanted any part of it. My dreams lose its meaning and my appetite for success weakened. My passions remained but not so strong enough now to drive me again to live my dreams. Life is uncertain and I hated every bit of it. At the age of 25, I found myself in the state of dying, no not my mortal body but my soul. I might be buried at the age of 85 but I was long dead then at 25 when I first stopped living and just spent my life existing in this world they called Earth.
…dying at 25
I’m dying now at 25 and the only best part about it is I’m quite aware of the truth. You know what is the hardest part for a man? It’s when he needs to make a decision and lots of options are laid before his eyes – it makes him deal with complicated choices. But a sick man on his deathbed only got two options left – let go or hold on. There’s no guarantee of both the choices because it’s either he’s meant to fight and survive or his time has really come. Growing up, dreaming and fighting my way to success aren’t all that enough to keep me alive, I’m dying at 25 and like that sick man on his deathbed, I only got to choices with me to decide.
