When I was a child, I recall knowing nothing about what is life. I thought places all over the world are the same as what I see in my own area. But I was not a very curious child. I only like to sleep a lot because my parents told me so. I do not know why they usually want me to slow early at night. But, so they say, they want me to grow tall just like them. I do not know why I even follow them, maybe because I love them. But still I do not know what love is when I was a little girl.
Life. Love. What is it with them that they are so hard to describe? What makes those two small, but broad and mysterious words can change a human? How can a person fully understand them?
Everyday, I woke up as a child ready to play outside with my friends. I know the word friends. I understand it even. Parents tell children, like mine, that friends are the people you want to be around to play with my Barbie dolls and colorful plastic kitchen utensils, talking about your imaginary friends, and engage in some activities. I like being around with little people that looks like me: small and free. Yet, I don’t even know what free means during that time.
My parents are too tall and busy to be played with but these people like me feel like we talk in the same language that I do not know. We laugh together at silly things and giggle. Playing was the fun part of being a kid. We all feel the same. But that feeling you get when your friend has a new toy and you want the same exact thing, the competition begins—subconsciously. I may not know what I was competing, but I like to have what my friends have. I may not even admit it, but I will tell my parents to buy me toys better than what my friends have.
When I got a little older than five, I sometimes ask myself why certain things are made. Probably for the people to help them assure and assist with there needs and wants; to keep them covered because they feel naked. And I know what naked is at an early age. It is baring no clothes to your body: no shirt, no pants, and no underwear, just you and your skin—bare. My parents taught me that it is no right to show your body to strangers or people because it is forbidden against our religion.
Religion? Yes. I have a religion as a kid, up until now. I believe in Catholicism. Though, I was not fully aware of what religions or God is, but my parents said He is the one who guides the people and help them with their needs. We can ask whatever we want from Him and He shall bless it to us, if we remain faithful to Him—or even if we’re not.
My heart is something. I notice it beating.
Sitting on the lap of my mother, she held my hand and placed it on my chest. There was a beating—two beats or three in a second perhaps. I wonder idly what it is, so I looked into my mother’s eyes as if I was asking her what was beating in my chest. She said it’s my heart. It is the powerhouse of my life. I do not understand what it means with my heart being my life. I compared my heart and my brain by bringing my vacant hand to my head. I touched it and felt nothing but strands of hair and my hard skull. No beating. No moving. Nothing. I do not know if brains exits even. I know that hearts exist because we can hear and feel them.
…The brain does exist, if you crack open your skull—but don’t do it.
Some parents greatly love their children. My parents are imperfect but I know they are trying their best to provide me the things that I need and want. My parents make me feel special and something beyond that they make me feel loved. Sometimes, they would say that they are willing to sacrifice their life for me to keep me away from danger and disease.
Now, I think that life is within one’s body. Not the body I guess, because when we die, the person being dead does not feel pain or any emotion. The dead corpse cannot cry or sob, cannot feel fear or sorrow, cannot feel happy or joy. They are empty and soulless.
Soulless? I honestly believe that every human body has a soul. His spirit is the ‘other’ life—the force that pushes the body to work—the core of life. But I have a question: If we give our physical heart to someone, does that mean suicide? Is it possible to give your life to someone else even though you don’t know him? I would think that it I possible. I bet it has happened too many times in the world illegally. But I don’t think it would be suicide. Suicide is an act of hating oneself, as I understand it. You loathe yourself, afraid of the future, and all you want to do is avoid everyone, the pain, and the problem. The question could be how will you avoid that terrible situation from your life? Many people gets wrong with this, killing yourself is not the best solution. And should never be treated as a solution—like ever. There is always something better than that that can help you—use your brain!
Believing in yourself and thinking positively even though it is impossible to stay happy when you are broken, never think of being nothing that nobody wants you, or that everybody hates you.
A lot of people fall down to their feet, but with right ingredient to stand, they grow to a better version of their self. They become stronger, successful, happy, contented, and free form nothing to something of love and life.
Possibly, life is more that just the body of a person. With the burning flames of a passion, certain things will lead you to the right path. That is why our friends and families have a great role and impact in our life.
Life is everywhere as well. It can happen when you pop out a bottle of wine at a special occasion. When you fail at a test, or even when you get dumped; life is a series of endings that would lead to beautiful beginnings and we fail to acknowledge this short and little moment sometimes. These are the important things that get us through the day.
As I grow old and wiser, I started to think that everyday isn’t always a good day. The time when we feel lonely and alone, considering that the world is being nice but very cruel against us, we misinterpret many things on our mind. Most of the people, especially women, overthink things. Though, there is nothing to think of—it makes them crazy.
Life, I realize, doesn’t begin with when the time you were conceived or born. Life really begins when you notice actuality and reality of things and decide that you want to make a big difference or seek your great perhaps in the vast expense of this universe.
This is my own theory in life: when you actually see it beyond your own imagination. It may be good or bad that is your own perception of your life. From nothing to something, it will lead a path where you belong.
Nothingness is my freedom to think freely of my own. I can think beyond and care not whether it is wrong or right to think such thing. There was no mistake when I was a child, though I only thought of good and colorful things. There was no one to tell me that mu thoughts are wrong; no one who objects.
Now, I know something—only it is limited. Limited to what I want and need to learn from school or at home, my knowledge will continue to be limited if I don’t venture the things that other humans made to improve the quality of life or explain why things occur.
My something is my faith and determination that I can do the dreams that I have in mind into a reality.
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