Someone once told me, the expressions to my face were infinite. I had too many ranges, the slightly cheeky one, the unbearable excitement, the downward slumping, the recognizable frown and the barely audible whisper that reflected in my indifferent expression, which wasn’t indifference after all, because I was always so affected.
Back then, I thought the world had an expression of its own, a lyrical beauty to its very existence, which could not be contained in its physical aspects for it ran so deep. Some parts of me still believes the darkness and the light between those opposing fronts still exists, but the other part of me, the cynic has let go.
The world is a beautiful place, its very mortality is unique, the curves, the edges, the rawness that subsides within it. I believe now more than ever, that the world in its entirety has infinite expressions. Some we do not learn to understand, and some we only see because we collide with them so often.
I have seen so much hate, so much brutality, the very core of our beliefs being tested every single day, and every time I witness the loss of humanity, I see failure. I see us slowly molding ourselves, into a flat surface.
See limits make us feel connected; they keep our sanity intact, we understand spectrums that are finite because at the core of our human existence, we comprehend and value limitations. We give them new names, we call it social norm, sometimes we call it culture and other times, we call it fad. The one who dares to step out, is an outcast, a bully, a loser, or worse, a failure.
I vowed to myself, when I was barely old enough to understand the inexplicable human error in justifying your life’s work as success, that no matter what I did, I would aim to be different. I would be the underdog, the leader, not the successor to someone else’s story, this would be mine. I would write it, hell I would own it. Only to realize now, we are all just a copyright away to someone else’s theory.
See human error is undeniable, but we are slowly becoming the people we did not want to be, we are losing our sense of belonging and instead conforming to the adjustments set in place by someone else. We only value what is potent, what is fleeting, when we have the courage to express our desires unapologetically, to not bow down to what another weak mind decided was right.
Everything you are and everything you want to be already exists. It is said, the world was created in seven days, it takes nine months for a fetus to turn into a living breathing human, it takes the earth three hundred and sixty five days to orbit the sun, and your year consists of one hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes, and you wonder why your dreams are unfulfilled?
Reach out, and take it. The world belongs to you, you are not a stone in the midst of an ocean, you’re a breeze, which channels all the leaves one way, you take the clouds with you when you’re strong, and the days you want to give up, you are the stagnant smell in the air someone is wishing upon.
You were born with your idiosyncrasy, your own form of individuality, there will be no other you, so make it count, make it real, make it possible, be infinite.