sadness to the positive infinity

Life is eternally sad for me. Everyday we are plagued with countless life choices yet we only have infinitesimal time to figure out—what decisions are we making today? Or, were there really thousands of choices we give up to compensate with few decisions we believe will make us happy?

Everyday we have more than 12 hours and half of those are spent on tame and insipid routines we hold on to—for, maybe we believe that stuck with being boring than having no bustles at all is less taxing. Life is eternally sad that we could hardly notice, because our convenient ideas of sadness is always a broken heart. However, I accepted that the reservoir of my woes are nothing but the ontology of life itself. We are not content. Everything is ephemeral. And, we fill in those little potholes either by overcompensating or not doing anything at all.

Sadness temporarily becomes vague with our everyday transactions—the hustle and bustle we artlessly personalize for ourselves. The small talks we have with friends. The inevitable bumper to bumper human traffic in LRT. The cramming of papers—and your typical beating-the-deadline repartee with your block mates. The habitual noise in the metro. Movie dates with your boyfriend. The eccentric karaoke session with your little sister who cannot even read the lyrics. Life is then a little less gloomy with these mundane activities.

But, imagine spending the rest of hours at a very quiet night. There you are appeared to be paralyzed while blankly staring at the tiny cracks or filths on your ceiling. Everyone is sleeping and the only transaction you have is with your mind, beset with a hundred of narratives you were either regretful of or you were yearning for. As you had clamored with all those mixed feelings of melancholy, fear, and guilt; you began realizing that life is an eternal unhappiness masked with short-lived interactions. I believe that is where we depart from the customary in pursuit of doing the decisions we neglect for the sake of routines or familiarity.

The small talks are replaced with symposiums and lecture forums about the ground rules of becoming adults. The transactions with all kinds of people in LRT are becoming more exhausting that you wish you can drive a car. The cramming session with your block mates has been stopped by some realization of sense of urgency—as you started doing the tasks ahead of the time. The background noise in the metro is becoming more deafening as you started paying attention to all of it. The movie dates are even now omitted from your to-do list. Your little bonding with your younger sister is replaced with a series of reading comprehension lessons. Isn’t it obvious then that the more we started prioritizing serious decisions, the less we give off for all those carefree transactions?

It is when you begin looking for the narratives you could have your life filled in, that everything becomes more difficult. But, it’s okay—sometimes, big steps away from your safe haven are essential for you to grow. However, what’s not okay is to overcompensate that you become too hard on yourself. You overcompensate because you are too fearful of becoming sad that often you get twice upset with the result. This is to say that life is eternally sad and every little thing can justify that. Now, it becomes more challenging to find the right ingredients to be “less” sad. We said it, life is short-lived, so make the best decisions and you define what’s best. Little steps everyday.

Sometimes the best things in life are separated from what you deemed as obligatory. Maybe the best things are the narratives you will be thrilled to tell your future grandchildren. How bad your singing skills were? Or, how were they worsen by your little sister who could not even pronounce the lyrics? How you fell off the tricycle to save your bag? The bad essays you make. The moment you drank too much and blacked out. The way you chase after your happy crush. Your awful hairstyles. Each night you spend with your dog. And, all those narratives that don’t give you sorrow when you try remembering. The narratives you wished you could have prolonged if you were a little loose.

There is no concrete handbook about being less sad—so it is not so bad to break free from the rules that confine you in a one-way esplanade towards happiness. I believe there is no such thing. Sometimes it is best to stop for a while and live in the moment. Talk about aliens and ghosts. Cram your thesis and never graduate—joke. Be dumb if you want—whatever it is that makes sadness a bit funny. Be squammy. Be brave. Genetic as it is, but life is too short, so be anything who you wanted to be. If your childhood dream was to become superman, then literally buy yourself a cape. If you wanted to change the world, then grow with people and listen to their everyday narrative. If you wanted to be happy now, then stop whatever you are doing—and without any reason, smile.

This is exactly what I did—I halted. I kept all the readings and started writing down all my thoughts. And, you know what—doing this essay is unexpectedly a relief from all those depressing thoughts, now I don’t even know how to finish it. But, things are stated as it is. If you are going to be infinitely sad, make sure it approaches the positive infinity.

Let’s all be sad—char.