The Splendor of the World
(Entry below is an excerpt from a journal entry handwritten on 2/15/2005)
I decided not to go to work today. I woke up late and ended up here, in a park a few blocks from my apartment. I’m scared and I don’t know what life means. And I’m constantly preoccupied with the fact that I’m going to die someday and with the question: Am I going to learn how to live before then?
I could’ve been in the office today, typing on a keyboard with my eyes fixated on a monitor for seven and a half hours, missing the sounds of children playing and crying out to their mothers, the sounds of the birds chirping high above and echoing each other, the feel of the breeze on my cheeks and the feeling of fresh air entering my body and lungs. I could’ve been missing the sunlight play around my shadow on the bricks in the ground.
One day off isn’t enough to appreciate the beauty of the natural world. How I envy those people who never have to set foot in a corporate office or wear corporate attire or have to miss out on the splendor of the world. How I envy children who don’t yet know what it means to be responsible and serious. How I envy anyone who’s daring enough to live their dreams.
I don’t ever want to feel like poetry, or love is a waste of time. I want to go back to slowing down and appreciating the small things without feeling like there’s something else more productive that I should be doing. I want to go back to feeling like someday I still might get everything and everyone I want. I want to feel immediately connected and vibrantly aware, not like now where there seems to be a veil between my heart and this paper and pen.
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