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[May the 27th] |
You know that moment when your life changes. When you know that nothing will ever be the same again. Most of us go through life without ever knowing that we change. Subtle or not, most of us are unaware that it is happening. When it happened. If it will happen again. We might only know when those dear and near to you point it out. When the events and quest of your life take a different route than what the GPS tells us, we are bound to notice. We could either try to get a new map, and find our way home. Or we could just stubbornly stick with our old one, and blindly find our way. The latter idea sounds worse, and yet, out of fear for the unknown, out of our skeptic nature, we choose it. We adamantly refuse to change our ways. They are those sad ones who never change, or at least try not to. Completely rooted in their ways regardless of whether they're wrong or not. A stubbornness that keeps them immobile. A power game with themselves and fate. I wonder if regression is a better alternative than stagnation. You would think, at one point, we all would strive for growth. Something better. Not necessarily different, but an improvement. Let things take their course. We as humans are naturally afraid of change, otherwise known as the fear of the unknown. Sometimes I feel like we interpret fear of the known as that though. I thought that I knew I would never settle down, get married, and enter fatherhood because the fear would overwhelm me before I find myself in any of those situations.
My bottom line is I thought that my life was coasting steadily on an open road -- no detours, no potholes, no stupid drivers swerving into my one-way lane. I thought I knew my destination... I even bought the souvenirs beforehand: that's how certain I was. People envied my smooth ride, exotic wheels, and the certainty of my destination. Given my trunk was full with baggage weighing down on my fuel tank, but since I was coasting, I felt I still had a long ways to go. The countless women, figures in the checkbook, import cars, beach front bachelor pad, extravagant parties galore... I thought I was set. People envied me, and that reputation that I had built. My legacy. My empire. But that wasn't enough. What legacy? What empire? All of that just stage props with no substance. Empty. Transparent. One-dimensional.
Tulip entered my life. She was the one that entered my picture that others admired from afar. The one that assumed my passenger seat, and told me she wasn’t planning to abandon me anytime soon. That two people together are better than driving solo. Opened that trunk, and confronted my baggage. She examined, defied, and emptied the contents of that baggage that even I was afraid my whole life to do. She gave me the opportunity to start anew. Moment she joined me was when I took my journey into my own hands, and diverted from that open stretch of road, in which led to nowhere. A “Waiting for Godot” situation that she took me out from. My new route is filled with potholes, bumps, and potential catastrophes swerving in and out in front of me. But she’s there by my side, and that’s what makes me envy me. It’s no longer an open stretch of road with nothing in front of me, and that is what inspires me to floor my foot into that gas pedal. Ah another detour. Perhaps the beginning of my real legacy. That’s right. I’m going to be a father. And you know what: it does not feel like cold feet, nor fear, nor panic. It feels fucking amazing.
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