Grasping at Moments
I've recently found myself slightly regretful of any memorable moments I've had the past few months. Ironic, sure, and maybe a little despondent. The regret mostly stems from a realization, perhaps fear, that the future can never quite live up to the joys of past. These valued moments, be it lasting ten minutes or ten hours, always seem like the pinnacle of our lives. I guess it's a little like the senile grandpa claiming things were better during his good old days. Didn't I just turn 24?
Over time, I've grown fearful of missing out on happiness, as if every joyful memory were evanescent. Maybe at first I believed in continuity, that these gleeful emotions could be prolonged, but I soon felt myself tugging at fool's gold. It turns into a vicious cycle of filtering the memorable and treasuring them as pinnacle moments, all to inevitably come back as the very depressant in realizing the one day of contentment never translated into anything more than that specific Wednesday. Normality eventually becomes the low points of life.
I think a part of me is scared of feeling happy. To know happiness is to also fully embrace sadness, for there is no such emotion that can be felt without an antonym; only then do emotions illustrate a true depiction of a a single word, whether I call it melancholy or happiness. That seems to be the unfortunate reality of things, and to live in this world is to somehow come to peace with the possibility of injury. The real question then, is perhaps whether we value the potential of these moments as worthwhile enough to risk our very hearts.
To say it's not worth it would be an utter lie. All I've known my entire life is the continued reckless investment of myself into what I find valuable, and that's despite all the negative return I've had. I don't know what keeps me invested in something that has let me down so often. Maybe it's the hope for that one payoff that finally settles and justifies the parts of me I've lost over the course of an investment. It's a worthless endeavor in trying to believe hindsight is 20/20. I would've made those choices, at those times, one way or another.
And that's all to say I don't really quite know what to make of this feeling I've been having. Take it glass half empty and claim I've grown cynical and hopeless over moments that produce happiness, or take it glass half full and realize I haven't quite given up if I continue risking my mind and soul. It's the same sadness that drives my happiness, and the same pessimisim that spurs my hope. What I can say is certainly true is that I'll wake up the next morning, maybe deflated, but a week from now jubilant at some other opportunity God and life has thrown at me.
Follow up with me in a week.