Back in my high school days I had many moments in which I would grab a piece of paper and just start writing my thoughts. It sort of became a habit and a way for me to arrange my ideas and analyze them and myself in the process. And there was a time in which whatever little story I would start I would always start it with ‘Life is beautiful’. Always. I cannot say now what triggered me to do it, what I perfectly remember is that when I’d put my pencil down I would truly feel it. The immense beauty of it. And I would always have a smile on my face, following me everywhere.
Throughout the years, I would remind myself from time to time that simply being here and being able to do something I enjoy is wonderful. But more often I forgot that. I found it was way easier to complain about things not going my way, people deceiving me, plans failing. It was way easier to wake up a Monday morning missing the weekend that just passed than looking ahead to the new week. It was easier to victimize myself in various situations than to accept that part of the guilt belonged to me, along with the unwanted consequences. It was easier to postpone or neglect doing something instead of searching for motivation. Turning rainy days into excuses.
But that never made me feel good. All the complaining would drag me back and into more complaining. And at the end of the day I would be exhausted and annoyed and maybe even offend people around or mistreat them. By the time I had decided to just stop and really see where I was I had already wasted a day of my life. A good night sleep usually threw a brighter shade on what seemed to be a complicated situation. But so did shifting the perspective. Looking up instead of constantly looking down. Acknowledging those little details that could change the state of mind.
Myself from the high school days was naïve and pretty immature, as expected. But also believed in a simplicity of living, of perceiving. It would be immature of me now to despise it. After all, I love my smile and the way people react to it. In my mind the story is being written everyday. I just have to remember how to begin it.