Subjection

When I was younger, I always thought that I would live my life to be a story that is great to tell, to my children, my grandchildren, my friends, or just anyone in general. The funny thing is, I didn't realize that the stories that I would imagine myself telling are supposedly consisting only parts of my life I would be living. Easily put, when you ask an old friend whom you haven't met in two years what they have been doing, you don't expect them to tell you everything they do, every single second of their past two years.

Same goes with life stories, I guess. When someone asks me what I have been doing today, technically I've done a lot of things: I overslept, I cleaned my room, I watched a new jacksepticeye gameplay on YouTube, I cooked sardines and made tea... and also run out of it. But if you've been actually talking to people, you'd know that the only acceptable answer is... "nothing". Nothing actually happened to me today. Nothing of importance of you, of course. I would think. 

Same case with my life story. When someone asks me what I have been doing with my life, technically, again, I have done a lot of things, of course. I developed new habits, I read a few more books, I made new friends and lost a few, I wrote blog posts, I got fat, etc etc. But would I tell them that? Of course not. They wouldn't care about all the aspects that could happen in your life. When someone actually asks you, "what have you been doing with your life?" chances are they expect something spectacular to you, like probably becoming a millionaire, made a major breakthrough in quantum mechanics, sniped thirty enemies by the front line in a war or traveled the world.

Same with me. I probably couldn't care less about whether you slept over thirteen hours last night, or how your fingers got bruised when cleaning the bathroom. Nobody cares about such little things. They're probably asking out of politeness or sheer curiosity of the moment. Even when I heard stuff about your seniors going abroad to study or work, I would probably just be... mildly impressed. 

I mean, it probably didn't occur to me how hard they've been trying for that, or how easily they could get the opportunity. I don't get the whole story. It's just "oh, cool" and then I'm off continuing whatever it is I was doing. Probably, just probably, if someone actually tells me the whole story from when they started the registration, worked their asses off to get the required grades, to put up with the annoying people along the way, I would probably be more impressed... or possibly inspired.

And this thought just hit me: if I couldn't care about people's great accomplishment, what makes me think that my future children would be interested in the story of my life, consisting mainly of mundane things?

From this point of view, I'm trying to convey to myself a few premises: a) I should stop caring about how my life story would turn out, b) I should try harder to live a better life in order to get that life story I always imagine, c) I should probably kill myself so I won't worry about anything anymore. Option (c) seemed implausible, because what the hell yo. Option (a) looks very taunting, especially how easy it is to disregard everything right now, but I feel like it doesn't help to improve myself. Option (b) is harder, but I feel like have I even try?

If I only want stories, I got a lot more in my head. They're all fiction, or fantasy induced by my inability to realize things from ideas. I read Haruki Murakami's books, and his work consists mostly of... surreal stuff. Anyway, nothing of those inspiring kind of stuff. He wrote even the most boring of things done by the protagonist, like cooking spaghetti while listening to The Thieving Magpie, but still manage to assemble a good story nonetheless. Fiction, of course, but my point is: good writers don't have to write about a protagonist bungee jumping off a plane to become a millionaire, that's a reality show stuff.

The more I think about it, I just realized how deep in the option (a) I am. The fact that I'm living a life so mundane proves how I don't care about my life story. I have stopped caring about how my life story would turn out. It doesn't stop me from thinking about it, though. Right now I'm in a state where the option (b) appeals to me, without disregarding (a).

Frankly, this whole passage seems meaningless. I mean, I already knew what I'm doing and what I'm supposed to be doing. My problem right now is how I'm gonna do it.

How am I going to write my life story from now on? How do I, you know, move on with my life? What would be my legacy?

In the end, this rambling goes on to another rambling. One question leads to another. I guess that's just life, huh?