Narrative

Is it too early for reminiscing? Sometimes, out of the blue, and in the most ordinary of times, I feel suddenly, electrifyingly alive and in the moment. Sometimes in the middle of work, a flood of memories overwhelm me and I am reminded of things that came to pass. There's no shaking it, everything that happened in my life is now part of my narrative. If I were a story, I'm in the middle of my arc. I had experienced loss from which I will never recover, a burden, like heavy weights in my pockets that could sink me anytime, a wound so deep it will not heal. I had found myself in the throes of death, clung to life despite the isolation and the long road to recovery. And I find myself asking why? If I were a story, I should be moving towards something--a resolution or an ending of some sorts that should bring closure to my life's questions. Instead, it's starting to feel like Soprano and I'm moving to nothing but an abrupt end. Or The Good Wife--a good slap in the face that tells me to wake up and see the person I've become.


Nothing much I can control about the years behind me, but in the short moments of self-awareness, I'd like to control as much of what happens next. Maybe not totally control everything, but those that I can. Now that I'm in the middle of my story, I want it to have some sense and purpose--a goal, a meaning that would somehow make my life matter. I want it to have the structure of a novel: a clear purpose of why the story needs to be said and the change that happens to me from the beginning until the end. I want to be aware of the now, know what matters, and more importantly be at peace with my choices, even if they will never align with the world. It's too much to ask for, but it's always worth the try.