Bookmark #157

Sometimes, I’d wake up and sit up straight on the bed, thinking. I’d be in awe of reality, of life. I’d sit there, eyes wide open, a smile running across my face. I’d sit, dumbfounded and amazed at life and the fact that between all the large questions that we continually pondered over was the everyday.

We were here, we didn’t know why, and that was it. That was the game. It was the best choose-your-own-adventure ever made, and we chose so little, usually. It was our only shot at finding answers, not sitting around in a chair, ruminating over stale, dead-end questions. I could do everything, I thought. I could be anything, and all I had to do was get out of this bed today. That’s it.

I talked to others about it too, and more often than not, they’d look at it with the lens of their own mornings, and they could never see it with that clarity. The clarity I sat in surrounded only by a ruffled blanket, as the sunlight peeked in from between the golden curtains, calling me out to play.

Damn, the opportunities we had to learn from history, to be here right now, to make the future; we could only hope to contribute in some meaningful way for everyone else to ever come, and for everyone else already here. Our legacy was not a gift of a plan or a specific goal; our legacy was in the gift of hindsight, dots connected long after we’re gone.

Was it any lesser of a purpose? To make sure you didn’t waste the day in front of you. To be kind and understanding. To exhibit your inner virtues, whichever they may be, with honesty. It was the greatest purpose of all. That was the best thing you could do, hopefully, for anyone else down the line, anyone who sat upright in their bed, feeling a surge of energy run through them.

And so, I spent my days trying my best to turn those mornings into afternoons and evenings. I talked to others about it too, and they said things like, “You can’t do everything, man, that’s crazy.” And so, I’d nod and look at them. Then, I’d look past them and at the open sky, just so blue and wide and infinite.

Then, I’d tell them: watch me try.

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