Live everyday like it’s your…

Dear Readers,

Live everyday like it’s your last.

We’ve all heard it before. Many people use it as their mantra alongside “life is too short!” Or some such. Some have it plastered on their walls in their homes, or in their online personal bios. It’s become such a normal and engrained part of our identity, almost. Especially, during times of crisis or tragedy. I’m always reminded, somewhat, of this notion whenever someone very suddenly passes away or something dramatic happens in my life. I’m reminded to appreciate everyone and all of the little things, but if I’m quite honest, that’s something I do naturally, anyway.

If you know me, you’ll know how important it is to me that I show my appreciation for the people around me. It boosts their ego, it boosts mine. It is so important to me that people feel heard, validated…connected. It’s a habit I got myself into quite early, thankfully- but my trouble is finding likeminded individuals. That is until something drastic happens in their lives, that make them stop and think, Woah hold on…life is too short.

But bare with me, I’m getting ahead of myself. Although engrained in our society that we should live every day likes it’s our last, something just didn’t really fall into place for me, an overthinker. So, I done what I usually do, I tried to break it down in my own mind. Why was I having such a hard time with this? The answer seems very simple, so I’ll share it.

Instead of living every day like it’s our last, we should live every day like it’s our first.

Why? I hear you ask. The idea of living every day like it’s your last, to me, tells me that you’ve learned everything you’ve needed to learn. That you’re good. You know all you need, no more information is required. Not just that, but it’s an abandoment factor too. An abandoment of information, of experiences, of connections that fundamentally make us who we are as people. The kind of things that change us in groundbreaking ways and allow us to change those toxic traits we might have. Living like it’s your last, to me, feels redundant and dismissive of our lives up until this point, and thereafter.

Maybe that isn’t how everyone else sees it, maybe it’s just me, and that’s a strong possibility, but living every day like it’s your first opens up this beautiful sense of curiosity that we lose when we expect our lives to cease to exist the very next day. And to me, that curiosity is so important for my every day life, because I never wish to pretend like I know it all, I absolutely don’t. There are still lots for me to learn and I am eager to learn them, but I don’t feel I can do that if I’m rushing to check off my bucket list every day, or if I’m being selfish every day, or if I’m refusing to take a look around and absorb everything that life has to offer like a sponge.

And look, I know as much as the next guy that life can be tough, and it can be hard to want to wake up like that every day, because it isn’t realistic. But to me, neither is the blanket ignorance to how we can make our lives as fulfilling as possible, without worrying about the consequences to follow- not to say that people who identity with the “last day” philosophy are like that. I’m not suggesting we revert back to babyhood when words and language and sentiments meant sweet nothing to us; but think of every day as the birth of the you that exists today. Can you take what you learned yesterday, limit your expectations for this day and just see what happens as a fresh and clean slate?

So, my friends, don’t end your chapter where you are. Don’t rush to write it too, just live each day like a fresh new page in your beautifully complex story.

Xo

An imagined existence.

Dear Readers,

I’ve been deep in thought for the last few weeks about the meaning of human existence. It’s not normally the kind of thing someone my age is expected to think about, right? Of course not. Society tells me I’m supposed to think about artificial things- I’d list off examples, but I’ll be honest, I can’t think of the things I’m supposed to think about because I don’t care.

I feel like I’ve been here before. I feel like I kind of experience things a little differently from other people. I know that it’s probably because my individual perception will be unique from anyone elses, but from experience and the way I tackle things, I feel like I handle it differently. Naturally, it gets me thinking about a lot of different things. That’s something I do a lot, over think things. A lot of people tell me I shouldn’t because asking questions ‘makes things complicated’ but hell, I like making things complicated, but most importantly I like knowing things, so when I can’t get a solid answer and don’t know what something means, I get frustrated. Like I should actively go out of my way to find it out- if only it were that easy, right?

One thing I know for sure? That the only thing I have control over is my breathing. And that’s something I’m alright with. I used to be obsessed with the idea of having control over every little aspect of my life, I’m not sure where that came from to be honest, but I lost interest in that when I started really appreciating the random things that were happening to me. Crossing paths with people I almost didn’t meet, or meeting people I really shouldn’t have met. Or even choosing the wrong thing to do. Those were decisions I made on my own accord, whether or not I liked it, and I lived the consequences of those decisions and I learned from them. And I started appreciating them because I didn’t regret them. Why should I? Only regret the things you chose not to do, that’s what I like to live by. But anyway, back to the breathing. Breathing is my (your) anchor. It’s my base. The thing I can refer back to when I don’t know how to handle or label the things happening around me- the one thing I know I can do is control my breathing. And upon further thought, it’s probably the only real justification of my existence.

I have never seen my own face apart from reflections or in pictures. But I can’t really be sure it’s my face. Just like…I’ll look at someone in the street and never see them the same way you do. Or the way anyone else would. You see these people based on your own experiences and interpretations of what you wish people to look like in your eyes. Isn’t that funny? I guess it makes sense in the way where you sometimes don’t understand why people are attracted to certain people- they just see them differently from you do. I don’t know about you, but I love that about people. I love that one person can essentially be multiple different versions of themselves in the eyes of another human being. But on the same hand, we also only chose to see what we want to see in another person- which is almost like trickery, but brings me to another question of whether or not we really ever know a person and whether or not they ever really know themselves? If we’re too busy gaining information on ourselves based on the way people perceive us, are we essentially just bypassing who we really are as people in order to be a subjective interpretation of another person? They say if you met yourself in real life, you wouldn’t really recognise yourself, or in some cases, you wouldn’t necessarily like yourself, and maybe that’s because it isn’t for you to make up your mind about who you are, maybe you need the guidance of other people.

I guess what I mean is I can’t really be sure who I really am when there are so many different versions of me through the eyes of other people. I can partake in the “painting a picture” segment of getting to know me, but I can never really control how I’m viewed. It took me a while to make peace with the idea that I can’t please everyone. And it wasn’t through fault or a flaw in my own character (or anyone for that matter) and it wasn’t really much to do with a fault or flaw in the people viewing you, but there experiences just don’t match yours. Maybe they clash or maybe they differ entirely which makes the entire concept of you harder for other people to grasp. But maybe I’ll never find out what I want to find out and I’ll keep searching for reasons I really shouldn’t be searching for. But the idea of being multiple dimensions of one person both baffles and amazes me, and in the mean time I’ll carry on thinking that human beings and everyone I meet (myself included) are mere figments of our imagination.