What They Didn't Tell You
No one told you that the force at which reality would hit you would leave you staggering like a drunk man intoxicated by his own custom-made wine. That your life would flash before your eyes not only in near-death experiences but in decisions you make, least to say that a wrong move would empty the bits of joy you’ve stored in your validation warehouse.
No one told the 16-year-old version of yourself that your current self still hasn’t figured life out, that the treasure you toiled for and acquired a day before and placed on your pedestal of accomplishments would seemingly lose its value after a night’s worth of comparison. And you wake up the next day seeking more, yearning more, trying to be on top until it becomes an endless vigorous cycle.
No one told you six years ago that the life you were desperate to live and learn would teach a sour lesson on friendship. That it sometimes takes the shape of something as immaterial and materialistic as clothing. You would treasure it, iron out the crease on Sundays, show it off at places, take pictures with it, wash off the grease spill, and leave it to dry out in the sun. No one told you that someone could steal it, that with time it would fade, that you would outgrow it, that suddenly you can’t find it, and you’re stuck reminiscing your times together from pictures.
No one told you that anxiety could take different forms and that it evolves with you. No one told you that it would capture your voice and leave you feeling helpless and isolated, that it sometimes closes you off from your loved ones, and that it makes you carry the weight of responsibilities that aren’t yours to carry. It mutes you from asking for help or reaching out because it convinces you that sharing your concerns and troubles with people is a burdensome ordeal. It reaps your joy at 3 am by pillow-talking you into feeling inadequate.
No one told you that your parents don’t have favourites, just expectations dangling off their offspring’s heads like bounty hunts. That they would have emotional expectations from the last child but financial and parental obligations from the first. No one would tell you that you would live a life outside their expectation, daydream, and corporate fantasy. That you might not turn out to be the doctor of the family but have a job as a digital marketing head of a company, that you would earn more than a doctor would annually, but your parents would still be displeased because you’re home all day on your phone and laptop and that they can’t quite explain your work to their peers.
No one told you that you would need Jesus, that you would find answers at his feet and that the holy spirit would comfort you, counsel, and guide you, and that in him, you would find peace and wisdom to navigate life. No one told you that the bumps of the journey might bear a discomforting similarity to a regular street in Ketu. If you run into it blindly, you might break an ankle in an auspicious-looking porthole.
In the end, no one told you, but I’m telling you that your life would make much sense with you in it, that the outcome doesn’t define you but the journey and process of becoming you...
